by Karen Reis
Sean raised his eyebrows and smirked at me. “Conversational groupings?”
“I think she read it in a magazine somewhere,” I explained, chuckling.
His smirk turned into a real smile, and he said, “You have a very pretty smile.”
My eyes opened wide as saucers at that unexpected compliment, and I stuttered, “Uh, th-thanks. So do you.”
I turned away, utterly embarrassed and not knowing what to do next. No one had ever complimented me on my smile before. In fact, Nancy had once told me that my smile was ugly. There was silence then between us, and when I gave Sean a sidelong glance, he was just looking at me with this slightly amused expression on his face. Apparently no one had ever told him that he had a pretty smile either. I cringed again. I must have looked really horrified by what I said, because he took mercy on me and gestured towards the counter where I’d been chopping herbs.
“Anything I can do to help?”
I looked him over. If Genny said he was alright, and he was friends with Isaac, I figured that I’d give him a chance and become friends with him too. I felt bad for judging him based on his appearance, especially when he cleaned up so nicely. I also figured that I better quit eyeballing him like he had just arrived from the depths of hell and smile at him in a friendly manner more often.
So I nodded and smiled. “Yes, you can place this pizza in the top oven. Use these here.” I handed him Genny’s bright pink piggy pot holders. “And hand me the hot stone from the bottom oven.”
Sean looked at the pot holders as if they were an affront to his manhood, but he put them on without complaint. “Okay,” he said, and did just as I asked.
“What else?” he asked eagerly as he washed his hands.
I picked up my second ball of ready pizza dough and handed it to him once his hands were dry and he’d rolled his white sleeves up to his elbows. “Spread that around into a nice circle, and then here’s the sauce. Feel free to spoon it on liberally.”
He began to work the dough and I began to mix up two more batches of dough. Four pizzas would be enough for everyone invited to have at least one small slice, and since there was only hor’dourves being served that would be alright. Others were bringing food too, in your standard potluck-party fashion, otherwise I’d have been stuck in the kitchen all night making pizzas, and that would have sucked.
“Uh, Carrie,” Sean said after a moment, holding his hands up for me to see them. “The dough’s sticking.”
I looked at his hands and laughed. “Indeed,” I said. “I forgot to tell you to flour your hands and the dough. Here, let’s salvage this.”
I used a rubber scraper to get the sticky dough off his hands, and then began picking the dough off in bits, placing it back on the ball. Sean didn’t say a word, and he didn’t bother to help me. That annoyed me, so I looked up, about to say something peevish; he was a grown man after all, he could clean himself up, but the words never left my mouth. Sean was looking down at me, his gaze steady and intense, and a shiver ran down my spine as I looked back up at him.
I couldn’t hold his gaze, so I looked elsewhere. “Is that a naked woman?” I blurted.
Sean followed my glance down to his bared right forearm and the tattoo that adorned it. “Naked cyborg,” he corrected me a bit sheepishly. “It’s Japanese anime.”
“I hate anime,” I said swiftly.
He shrugged. “I outgrew it myself a while ago, but I’m kind of stuck with my tattoos.”
I guess I owed Genny a hundred dollars. Wanting to let him know that I no longer was bothered by the fact that he had tattoos, I blithely said, “Better some tattoos than warts or a third arm.”
Yeah, I know, that was a really dumb and weird thing to say, but that’s me. Sean looked at me like I was the strangest creature he’d ever seen, but smiled and nodded, “I guess I’d have to agree. Though I think a third arm would be the worst of the options. Tattoos and warts can be covered over. It’s pretty hard to hide a third arm.”
“Unless it’s tiny,” I suggested with a grin. I was happy that Sean was going along with my warped sense of humor. “Like a T-Rex’s arm, you know. Stunted and spindly.”
We both laughed, but it dawned on me that we were standing way too close to each other. I stepped away from him ever so casually, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
I finished scraping the majority of dough from Sean’s hands and said, “Um, you can just rub your hands together over the sink, and then, ah, here’s the flour,” I placed a container full of it between us. “Coat your hands well, and the, um, the um…” Damn, but I couldn’t think of the word. My mind had gone blank, and it didn’t help that my mouth was dry, which could possibly mean that my breath smelled. I blamed both phenomena on Sean. He was extremely distracting.
“Pizza stone?” Sean supplied helpfully.
My eyes widened briefly as I snatched the word up and got back on my thought track. “Yes. Coat the stone too, and if you need to, sprinkle some on the dough, but not much, okay? We don’t want to make it stiff and heavy.”
Sean went to work doing exactly as I said, and I rustled up a mint. We worked in silence while I tried to think of something brilliant to say, but nothing was coming to my mind.
So, your family’s Italian?” Sean asked as he reached to spread my special sauce liberally on the dough. He was either a better conversationalist than I was, or the silence was grating on him just as much as it was on me.
Luckily, I was able to answer quickly and coherently. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. My grandpa on my dad’s side was first generation. His parents were from southern Italy. My dad’s mom’s family was from northern Italy, near Austria. They’re all mixed blood up there. My dad is dark like his dad, but my sisters take after my grandma. They’re both tall and blonde”
“What about your mom?” Sean asked, sprinkling cheese on top of the pizza. “What’s she?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know much about her,” I said. “Except for the fact that her name is Barbara and her family is Scottish. That’s who I get my auburn hair from. My dad and her divorced when I was three. I don’t remember much about her, but I do know that her parents died when she was young, about sixteen or so. She lives in town, but I haven’t seen her since I was seven.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Sean was finished with the cheese, so I handed him the toppings. “Make this one a supreme, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He paused. “Did your dad remarry?”
I nodded. “When I was five. Nancy was someone he knew from back in east, where he grew up. He tracked her down; by that time, she’d moved to San Diego. She was still single. I’ve never asked my Dad why he chose her, someone he hadn’t talked to in years, but he did. He called her up a few times and eventually told her that he was looking for a wife and a mother for his three kids, two of whom were teenagers, one in middle school, and the other in high school.” I paused and looked up at Sean, who was listening with interest. “My dad’s not much for romance.”
Sean nodded, but didn’t say anything, so I continued. “So they got married and I took to Nancy like a moth to a light bulb. I called her Mommy right from the start. I guess I really needed a mother figure in my life.” I shook my head absently. God, but hadn’t that hope backfired miserably.
“Are you close to your stepmom?” Sean asked, putting the finishing touches on his pizza.
I took a deep breath. “No, unfortunately,” I said, my tone firm. I didn’t want to tell the next part of the story. It was too depressing, and this was supposed to be a wedding shower. Besides, I hardly knew Sean at all. “What about you? You’re Irish, right?” I asked, switching the focus from myself.
“Mostly,” Sean said with a smile, though I could feel him tense up, despite the fact that we stood at least two feet apart. Apparently he didn’t like talking about his family either. “I don’t really know much about my family history. I guess we’re pretty much Heinz 57.”
“And what about your family? Functional or dy
sfunctional?” I asked without thinking, because I was curious about this man who was friends with my friends and was described as a good man, a nice guy. That’s me though, Miss Way-To-Direct-For-My-Own-Good.
“Dysfunctional,” Sean said with a grim sort of smile. “Extremely dysfunctional.” He didn’t add anything to that description, and I didn’t press him. I didn’t want him to reciprocate in kind.
“So where do you work?” I asked as I set my dough aside to rise. It was a nice neutral question. So we chatted. He worked for an auto shop, his boss’s name was Ranjit, and before I knew it, all the pizzas were done and the doorbell was ringing again.
“There are the guests,” Sean commented, wiping his hands on a paper towel and making a 3 point shot into the kitchen garbage can with it.
I frowned. Soon, the house would be full of people, all talking, some of them talking at me. I was horrible at party small talk and had nothing in common with most of Genny’s friends, who were older, mostly married, with kids and careers and retirement plans. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay in the kitchen for a while and hide.
Sean cocked his head at me, puzzled by my frown and hesitation. He gestured to the living room with a jerk of his head. “Ready to go mingle?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. I-I think I’ll stay in here for a while more.”
Sean gave me a small empathetic smile. “You gonna’ hide out?”
Feeling loathe about lying, I said in a low embarrassed voice, “Yes.”
“But there’s all that good food out there to try,” Sean said, trying to persuade me.
“I’m not hungry,” I said quickly, but my stomach decided at that moment to growl loudly. The traitor.
Sean didn’t push me or the issue, but his eyes showed his disappointment. “I see. Well, maybe you’ll come out later.” And with that he left me. All alone. By myself.
“Loser,” I muttered, but I wasn’t talking about him.
Chapter 3
At that time, I still worked at the library. I had gotten that job originally in high school in part as a key component in my plan to get as far away from my parents as possible, but also to pay for a 10th grade field trip to Shakespearean England. The trip fell through, but of course I kept the job. Nancy had been madder than a hornet in a mannequin shop when I took that job; she disliked me and my sisters reading and loudly discouraged us from going to the library, so continuing to work there was also my little way of rebelling against her.
Anyhow, the very next day after the party, one of my coworkers, a man, walked up to me as I was setting up a display table featuring the works of Frank Herbert. I remember thinking how Dune was such an awesome book, but that the sequels were just weird, and how the original Dune movie from the 1970’s just did not do proper justice to the female characters as beautifully as Mr. Herbert had in his novel. Interrupting my musings was Dan Doherty; he stopped in front of me and cleared his throat.
Dan was a clean-cut person, as most library workers are, with no visible tattoos or piercings. His uniform of choice consisted of a pair of camel colored slacks set off by a colorful long-sleeved shirt and a matching tie. He wore this same combination of clothing year round, no matter the temperature or the occasion. His dark blonde hair was beginning to thin at his temples, though he was still in his twenties, but he had nice blue eyes and a well-shaped nose. I imagine he looked like a younger, shorter, dorkier, and more out of shape, version of Bruce Willis.
“What’s up?” I asked him. I considered Dan to be a work friend, which meant that I was friendly with him and even joked around with him, but I did not socialize with him while on break unless necessary, and I did not see him outside of work. Ever.
He shuffled his feet a bit. “Umm, how are you?”
I squinted at him, noticing for the first time that we were the same basic height. I usually went for guys that were about my height, maybe a little taller. I thought about Sean, who was many inches taller than me, which led to thinking about how much I’d been a coward the night before.
Dan repeated his question, and I realized I’d been staring off into the space just above his forehead, where Sean’s dark brown eyes would have been. I gave myself a shake. “Sorry. I’m fine, Dan,” I smiled. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. Are you working tomorrow?” He surreptitiously wiped his hands on his pants. Was he nervous, or hot?
“Why?” I asked suspiciously. “Do you need me to cover your shift tomorrow?”
“No, no,” Dan reassured me. “I’m not working tomorrow. I have the day off.”
He stopped talking and looked at me expectantly, and I remembered that he had asked me a question. I nodded. “Yes I’m working, but only in the morning. I get off at two.”
Dan smiled. He had evenly sized, straight, white teeth. “That’s good. You know, tomorrow night’s movie is Singin’ in the Rain. Do you want to come and watch it with me?”
I tilted my head thoughtfully. Once a week, the library’s theater showed a movie, usually whatever our head librarian was in the mood for. “Is this a date?” I asked curiously.
He nodded quickly, shoving his hands into his pants and hunching his shoulders. “Exactly. Do you want to?”
I was about to shoot him down and tell him, “Heck no, not in a million years!” because I don’t date coworkers, especially those that slouch, but I stopped myself, remembering Genny’s advice about dating and relationships. I needed to get out. Since I usually followed Genny’s advice in most life matters, and since I’d been such a coward the night before with Sean, I nodded my assent, even though I didn’t really look at Dan in a romantic way. It would be a practice date, I told myself, and I’d pay my own way if we went anywhere afterward.
And you never know, I thought airily. Maybe Dan will sweep me off my feet. Stranger things had happened in the history of mankind. So I nodded my head. “Okay. That sounds alright.”
Dan grinned and pulled his hands out of his pockets, rubbing them together in excitement. “Great. The movie is at 8. Is it okay if I meet you here? And then maybe afterwards we can go get some coffee or something?”
I smiled. I hated coffee, and he should have known that. In fact, just yesterday I’d told him that I didn’t drink coffee when he’d offered to get me some Starbucks. Apparently, he suffered from short-term memory loss. I grimaced, but tried to summon up at least a little enthusiasm in my voice. “Sounds great. I’ll meet you here.”
Later on my lunch break, I called up Genny while sitting outside in the warm October sun. “I have a date!” I announced triumphantly. I was eager to let her know that I was branching out in my social life so that she could stop harassing me about it.
“You’re going out with Sean?” she asked excitedly. “That’s great!”
“No, not Sean!” I exclaimed. “With Dan, who I work with.”
“Haven’t I met him? Isn’t he the guy with the huge key collection?”
Yes. Dan had a huge key collection that he carried with him wherever he went on an equally large key ring. There were all sorts of keys of different shapes and colors on it. He liked to look at the ground as he walked just in case there was an abandoned key laying there that he could rescue and bring into the clan. He’d shown me his collection a while ago. There was a story to go with every key, and Dan had probably only told me half of them up to that point.
“You told me that I needed to start dating,” I pointed out, ignoring her question. “I’m just following your sage advice.”
“I meant that you should go out with Sean, not the geek of the month from your work.”
“I barely know Sean,” I countered, shifting uncomfortably and trying to think of something that would get Genny off the topic of Sean, who probably thought I didn’t even like him since I’d been too embarrassed to speak to him the rest of yesterday evening. I really was a coward, I thought.
Aloud, I said, “I don’t like the idea of going out with someone I don’t know well.”
“All you
need to know is that he doesn’t have a large key collection. I think that that says enough,” Genny retorted.
“Will you just tell me that you’re happy I’m seeing a real person and that you hope I have a good time?” I snapped.
“I’m happy you’re seeing a real person and I hope you have a good time,” Genny mimicked in a monotone voice. “But you should be going out with Sean instead. He likes you
“No he doesn’t,” I argued despite the blush that crept up my face. “Not in that way.”
“Yes he does,” Genny retorted.
“How do you know he likes me?” I asked curiously.
“Oh, my God, you are the blindest woman I know. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you! And you! You wouldn’t even look at him after he helped out in the kitchen; you just moped out on the patio and stuffed yourself on falafel and hummus. Believe you me, Sean wanted to spend time with you. A man doesn’t pay that much attention to a woman, and help her in the kitchen, if he doesn’t have some sort of interest in her romantically.”
“So I messed up,” I said defensively, wanting her to drop the topic. “I realize that, Genny. I do not need a lecture from you about it.”
But Genny was not to about to let go of the subject. “You need to take some classes on dating. Learn to flirt.”
I sighed loudly. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I am going out with Dan tomorrow. I am not going to take dating classes, as if any such thing really existed,” I scoffed.
“Such things do exist, and I only tell you these things because I think you and Sean could go all the way,” Genny persisted. “I just wish you’d do what I tell you to do.”
I couldn’t help but smile into the phone at her remark. “You do realize how ridiculous that last statement was, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do,” Genny snarled. “And since I’ve lost all creditability at the moment, I’ll just talk to you later.”
“Okay, Master – I mean Genny, my friend and advisor,” I said, needling her.
