Clockwork Romance

by Andy Mandela

  But then I remember the woman. I hope I didn’t miss her. I don’t hope she has already gotten into her car and driven off. I turn my head back around and notice she’s gone. I don’t see the woman, but the car is still there. The windows aren’t tinted and it doesn’t look like anyone’s inside.

  But I know I saw someone. There was a woman there. I’m not a hundred percent sure it was Karina, but it looked so much like her. Whoever she was, wherever she went, she’s gone. I may be overreacting. Maybe I just miss Karina too much or something. I can’t explain it.

  I can’t be any more than a minute away, so I start wondering what to say when I see her. Maybe “Hello,” or “Hey beautiful.” No, not that one. It sounds too forward. Should I try to be funny? “I think Heaven’s missing an angel.” I don’t think that sounded right at all. If women want one thing, I believe it is honesty. I should just be myself.

  I like the idea of being romantic, but I really don’t think I’ve had that much practice. I’m not used to candlelit dinners or putting on smooth jazz or even drinking wine by a fireplace. I suppose we’ve done some pretty romantic things already. We’ve had a nice dinner, wine on a rooftop, even our first kiss. And second kiss. We’ve watched a nice movie together and have slept in each other’s beds.

  Now today we’re going to the park. What’s something else I could do to impress her? I should think quickly because I’m driving up to her apartment building right now. I could brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear with my hand, or propose. Just kidding. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.

  But there is one moment I have been curious about. It’s something that, for a reason unknown to me, most men are afraid of. In my opinion, I don’t see what’s so horrible about it. Do I see something, or think differently than most people? Are other guys afraid to share their feelings with their partner? All it is is three small, yet impactful words. “I love you.” It’s the phrase you can tell a woman to let her know how you really feel about her. I think all men want to say it, but are terrified of what it may lead to.

  Perhaps some guys don’t even feel love. That’s how I was for a while. I hated it. I hated myself. No man can be truly happy like that. Companionship is natural for people. Those who are loners can never be the happiest people in the world, I should know. I’m definitely not Man of the Year, but I know how to love. Maybe too well. If I could take back all the harm I may have caused women throughout the past, I would. I’ve shed tears about it, thinking of the women I’ve used for nothing more than for my own self-gratification. It doesn’t make me feel like a man, but more like scum. The scum you wipe off your shoes before entering a house.

  But that’s not who I am anymore. I will never be that man again. The part if me that was him was thrown out in the dumpster along with everything else I threw away.

  Now I have arrive at Karina’s It would be so cheap if I texted her that I was here. I want to be a gentleman, so I should up to her door instead. But before I can open the door, Karina comes outside, her purse around her shoulder. It was a different purse, bigger than the one before. Her smile is so radiant, I think of how lucky I am as she curries to the car door.

  She is wearing a black sundress. The straps on the dress reminded me of those vintage bathing suits for women that go up and around the neck. The dress stopped just at her knees, allowing the sun to strike her lower legs and feet. On her feet, she wore a nice pair of sandals with thin straps which exposed most of her feet. I could tell she had done her hair as well. It started straight, then got a little wavier as it went down. Her makeup was nice too, not overdone, but just right. Karina was a girl who knew how to look beautiful. She hops in the car and gives a quick, “Hi.”

  I was kind of hoping she would give another kiss, but she didn’t lean in. As we’re driving, she pulls a camera out of her purse, a Polaroid camera that prints instant pictures. It wasn’t one of the older ones. It looked newer and had a screen on the back. I didn’t even know they still made those kind of cameras. Karina said, “I brought this so we could take pictures at the park today. I thought we should capture a few memories of our first outing as a couple.”

  “That’s nice,” I say, taking my eyes off the road for a brief second. “I like looking at old photographs from the past, reminiscing about them.” Karina tries to pull her dress over her knees, but the dress only falls back, revealing half of her thighs. I thought that was cute. By what she just said, I think she really want us to last. I was already imagining ten to fifteen years ahead, going through a photo album together. It wasn’t hard to imagine at all. Karina must have thought about the same thing as well. Or it could be that she likes photography.

  We end up eating at an Italian restaurant for lunch. There wasn’t a lot of people, so we didn’t have to wait to be seated. Italian is one of my favorite cuisines, and Karina told me it was one of her favorites as well.

  I wonder if Karina had any Italian in her. Karina looked like the kind of girl who could have any ethnic background. If she said she was Italian, then she looked Italian. If she said she was French, she looked French. If she said she was Greek, she looked Greek. I think it’s harder to tell a woman’s ethnic backgrounds than men. I guess it’s just because I am a man, and it’s easier to guess about people who are more like me. Or it could be that women are so much more complicated, it’s hard to guess anything about them.

  And of course, since this is a date, even though neither of us said those words exactly, I was the one who paid for our meal. It’s weird, because even though I have all this money saved, I still worry about every dime I spend. I shouldn’t, but I do. That’s just how I am, I suppose. For now, I don’t mind. However, Karina is worth every dollar I have.

  After we were through eating, we made our way to the park. Taking a walk through the park might burn off some of those carbs we just put on. Karina left her purse in the car and just brought along the camera.

  The park, named Northwest Park, was a little like Central Park in New York City, except Northwest Park was half the size and with no lake. There were lots of trees for people to sit under, lots of walkways for people to walk or ride bikes on, and plenty of benches to, well, you know, sit on.

  There were a good amount of people here, all having a good time. Some were playing ultimate frisbee, some were walking their dogs, and some people taking the time to jog all around the park. I also noticed couples here as well, spending quality time with each other, just like Karina and I. I think my favorite feature of the park is the part where one sidewalk curves right, running directly through an area of trees growing so thick, it created a tunnel that became almost entirely dark for about fifty feet. I used to have fun in there as a kid. No matter how sunny the day was, that tunnel always stayed dark.

  At first, Karina and I just walk casually down one walkway. She seems to be having a much better time than me, not that I’m not, she just seems so cheerful.

  “Look over here,” she says. When I turn to her, she gives me all of one second to smile before she takes my picture. Afterwards, she continues to take pictures of the scenery. Then, while continuing to admire everything around her, she starts a chat. “Have you lived here your whole life?” she asks.

  “Yes, you?” I return.

  “I’m originally from Austin. I moved here when I was fourteen. I didn’t mind. It’s less hectic here, but of course there are things I miss. A few friends, certain memories. This park was one of the first places I came to when I first moved here. My parents brought us one Saturday. I met a few friends here and we would hang out here after school sometimes. Do you come here often?”

  “Not really,” I say. I don’t even remember the last time I was here. “I did when I was younger, like you. Who knows, maybe I’ve seen you here before, only we didn’t actually meet. But I don’t think so. I would remember if I’d seen you before.”

  “That’s sweet,” she says.

  I ask her, “Do you have family here?”

  “Somewhat,” she answers.
“Just my parents. Most of my family lives back in Austin. I go back sometimes during the holidays, like Thanksgiving and Christmas. We all get together at either my grandparent’s or my aunt and uncle’s house. They both live in really nice houses. They usually take turns who will host which holiday.”

  I remember Karina said “us” when she mentioned coming to the park as a teenager, so I ask, “What about your siblings?” When I said that, she hesitated to answer.

  “Umm…” she said. “I had a brother. His name was Zack. He, uh, passed away when he was eighteen. He had been driving home from a party and was hit by a drunk driver at two in the morning. It’s been about five and a half years. He died on New Year’s Day.”

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her. I kind of regret asking her, but as a couple, we’re bound to find out about these things eventually.

  “How about you?” she asks, switching the topic to me. “You have a lot of family here?”

  “Just my parents, too,” I say. “I’m an only child. We were a working class family. I guess me and my mom are pretty close. Maybe I should call her, I haven’t talked to her in a while. My dad is alright. I’ve butted heads with him in the past, but I haven’t really visited them lately. I’ve been paying most of my attention to getting my life together.”

  “From what?” she asks.

  “What?” I respond.

  “You said you were getting your life together. From what?” she says.

  I know now I can’t tell her the truth. Not yet. But I won’t lie. “I’ve just been…” I say, before she cuts me off.

  We’ve reached the giant water fountain in the middle of the park that shoots water in every direction. I’ve often how much money lies at the bottom of that fountain. Hundreds of dollars’ worth, maybe.

  “Hold that thought,” Karina says. “We’ve got to get a picture of us next to the fountain.”

  This gives me more time to think about what I’m getting my life together for. Karina approaches a stranger, a middle-aged man strolling through the park, just like us.

  “Excuse me,” Karina politely says, “Can you take a picture of me and my boyfriend next to the fountain, please?” The man obliges, and Karina and I stand in front of the fountain, getting our pose ready.

  “You ready? Smile,” the man says, looking through the camera.

  As soon as he takes the photo, Karina asks,” Is it good?”

  “Yup,” he answers.

  “Thank you so much,” she says walking back to him to retrieve her camera. The photo popped out of the camera, and the man hands both the camera and the photo to Karina.

  “No problem,” he says, before returning on his way.

  “I love this fountain,” she tells me. “Let’s sit over here and wait for the picture to develop.”

  Facing the fountain were long benches that circled it. Four benches, broken up by four walkways. When we sat down, Karina said, “I’m sorry I interrupted you.”

  “That’s okay,” I said.

  “I was asking you why you were getting your life back together,” she reminds me, shaking the photo so it’ll develop faster.

  “Right,” I say. “Here recently I’ve just been having some trouble deciding what I want to do with my life. I can remember my dad telling me that I have plenty of time to figure it out, but the last time he told me that, I must have been in the eighth grade. Now here I am, fifteen years later, and still not knowing what the hell to do.”

  Karina gives me a look on her face that shows pity. She feels sorry for me. “It’s alright,” she says, ceasing to shake the photo. “What do you want to do?” she asks. I’ve been asked that question so many times, my answer is hardly different each time. I don’t have much of a response ready, so I just give her a general idea, one that I’ve been thinking of for a while.

  “I was wanting, or at least I was thinking of starting a business. But I don’t know. I don’t even think I want that anymore. I guess I’ve just always liked the idea of owning a business. I’ve considered opening my own bar, or being the CEO of a corporation.”

  “You know what,” Karina said, leaning in, “I believe you can do it.” She gives me a kiss on the cheek to return me to a positive mood. “Look here, the picture’s ready.” We both look at it as she hold it up. “It looks incredible, she says, “It came out perfect.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. She puts the photo down, with her hands resting in her lap. I think we’ve found ourselves at that awkward silence again, trying to find something else to say.

  I was just about to suggest that we go over to check out the tree tunnel, when Karina decided that we keep the conversation going, revealing more about ourselves in order to get to know each other better. But the question she asks next was a total complete subject changer, I almost didn’t know how to respond.

  “Do you ever want to have kids?” she asks.

  At first, I didn’t know if she was asking my personal opinion, or if she was requesting if she could bear my children. Surely it was only a normal question, but I can’t help but to think of the alternative meaning. I answer, “Yeah, one day. I hope so.”

  “Well I didn’t want to scare you by asking you,” she said. Too late. “But there a lot of people out there who say they don’t want kids. It’s a horrible thing, really. I couldn’t imagine being old with absolutely no kids or grandchildren. Oh, I’d love to have grandchildren. That’s one of the things I do too much. I start thinking too far into the future.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that,” I assure her. “It’s nice that you want a future and have something to strive for. That’s something a lot of people don’t have.”

  “Yeah, I suppose,” she returns. “So have you thought about how many children you would like to have?”

  “No, I haven’t really thought about it,” I say. “But I don’t want to have just one. I wouldn’t want my son or daughter to be an only child like I am. Maybe three or four.” I look at her.

  She says, “I’d like a big family one day, too. And live in a big house.” Immediately I thought of this big house that was one of my favorites out in the suburbs. It was a house all by itself on top of a hill, very big, with floor-to-ceiling windows. That was the house I wanted to live in one day.

  A confused look comes onto Karina’s face as she looks down into her lap, staring at the photo of us. “Luke?” she says.

  “Hmm?” I answer, wondering what may be going through her head now. I hope it’s nothing bad. I hope I haven’t done anything to mess up today. I don’t think I have, but it’s just best not to worry and listen to what she has to say.

  “Can I ask you something? And please don’t get upset about it, because… because I’m not upset or anything, I’m just curious about something.”

  “Go ahead,” I tell her.

  “Last night,” she says, “why didn’t you wanna… you know?”

  I do know, and I don’t blame her for asking. Truthfully, I’m happy she asked, that way I can tell her, instead of dodging her every time she tries to make a move. “I know,” I say. “The truth is, I’m waiting for the right woman. The right time.”

  She looks at me with a somewhat surprised look on her face now. I know exactly what she’s thinking, and she says it. “Are you a…” she says, before I finish the question for her.

  “Virgin? No. But in retrospect, I kind of wish I was. If I would have been with the right woman already, I wouldn’t have been single for so long. But I just saw it a part of being young, and not being as intelligent as I am now. Now that I’ve had the time to really think about it, I wish that I could’ve been with one woman my entire life. Maybe that’s just my mind trying to be a mature adult.” I give a slight laugh through my nose.

  “I suppose you’re right,” she says. “Now that you say it like that, I wish I could be pure all over again too. I know the guys I’ve been with in the past never really loved me, I just wanted to feel loved, you know?”

  I tried not to think of the men who have had Ka
rina in the past. The men who just wanted to take advantage of her and use her. But really, that doesn’t sound at all different from how I used to be. I was that kind of man before. But that man no longer exists. I just thank God Karina never met him within the last year and a half. I couldn’t live with myself if Karina was the girl I told to “Get out.” Now I’m starting to feel worse about myself, that I could have ever been such a bastard. “None of that matters now,” I tell her with a cheer up smile.