by Nella Tyler
Noliarshere: See you there.
The little dot next to his name went away and she knew he had logged off. What have I gotten myself into?
There wasn’t time to think about that now. She had just an hour to get ready. She flipped off the computer and flew toward the bathroom, turning on the faucet and on dressing at the same time. A myriad of new thoughts flew through her mind. She considered whether she should take the time to shave her legs, yet she knew there was no way he would ever see her legs. They would be buried beneath a pair of slacks. And yet, it would just feel more ladylike if she did. With that resolution, she grabbed her razor, soaped up her leg and began quickly shaving. Consequently, she nicked her skin and a thin stream of blood ran down her leg and swirled in the drain. “Dammit!”
She could feel herself becoming nervous in her haste. She opted to skip the other leg and shut off the shower, grabbing a towel and a piece of toilet paper to dab the cut on her leg at the same time. The cut refused to stop bleeding and she carefully fashioned a sort of toilet paper bandage to catch the blood so it wouldn’t run down her leg and stain the carpet.
She brushed her teeth, applied her deodorant, put some mousse in her hair and headed for the bedroom and her vanity table. She flipped on her makeup mirror and almost gasped. There were dark circles beneath her eyes and they were very puffy, obviously leftover from her, crying fest all day.
With a sigh of resolve, she grabbed the jar of moisturizer and began rubbing at the remnants of mascara from earlier in the day. She began with her foundation and some under eye concealer. She remembered reading once about putting cold cucumbers on your eyes to get rid of swelling and considered that option. The problem was she only had forty minutes before she had to leave and the cucumber eyepatch would take at least a half an hour. She piled on the concealer and blended it as well as she could.
Next came the decisions about her hair. Should she wear it up or down, curly or straight? Should she part it down the center or on the left? Should she push it behind her ears and bring the shorter hair in front forward like bangs, or curl it all backward into something closer to a bouffant?
That started thinking about what she would wear. She didn’t want to wear just jeans, that would say she was sloppy and he wasn’t important. Nor, did she want to put on her leather leggings, that would say that she was a slut and invite him to follow her home. She didn’t want to look like a schoolteacher, nor did she want to look like a hooker.
She interrupted her hair deliberations to consider her wardrobe. Everything that hung at the front of the closet were clothes that she wore daily to work. They were chosen on the basis of comfort and making her look invisible. She knew instinctively the time had come to change her look.
She moved to the back of the closet, pushing aside a few new things that still held the price tags. She’d bought them before David had died and was looking forward to wearing them on a getaway weekend. It was the same stash of clothes that had been in the suitcase. She found a soft yellow sweater with the V-neck and pulled it out of the closet. She paired it with a pair of navy slacks and a gold chain belt to wear over the sweater. A pair of navy pumps completed the outfit.
Should she put the clothes on first and then do her hair, possibly risking getting makeup on the yellow sweater, or should she finish her makeup, finisher hair and then try to wrestle on the sweater without messing up her hair? So many questions. She never remembered it being this hard before.
She opted for finishing her hair first, deciding that a small up sweep would make her look a little more elegant for the evening, but not so rigid as the schoolteacher. She added a pair of pearl stud earrings and remembered to take her wedding ring off her left hand. As soon as she did this, she felt pain in the pit of her stomach. It was though she was divorcing David, putting him out of her life. She looked down at her hand and could see the white skin where the ring had sat for so many years. It was quite obvious. Resolved to be in her new life, she pulled the bottle of foundation back out of the drawer and patted a bit of it around her finger in an attempt to mask the white ring.
She looked at the clock. She was due to leave in five minutes. Quickly she pulled on the clothes, slid on the pumps, and grabbed a navy bag off the top shelf of her closet. She literally dumped the contents of her current bag into the navy one, unmindful of what landed where. She threw in her cell phone, headed for the front door, remembering to snag a jacket on her way out.
Her hand dove into the mixed up bag, looking for her garage door opener. She could’ve entered directly from the kitchen and wondered why she had been so scatterbrained. She finally managed to locate the opener and the door rolled upward.
She got into her car, started it, and backed out the driveway with some haste. She had put the car into drive, pushed down the gas and as she sailed down the street, she noticed her garage door was still standing open. With a sigh of exasperation, she drove around the block, pointed the opener at the garage door and lowered it.
She told herself to calm down. It was unlikely he would leave if she were five minutes late. It would be a better idea to arrive alive.
As she drove she wondered what he would be like. Would he looked the same as he did in his pictures online? Did it really matter? After all, she was just going to share wine with a potential new friend. She wasn’t going to select a new husband.
Then came the big question. What if I actually like him? That brought up the question of what if he didn’t like her in return? Or, vice versa. What if he did like her, and she couldn’t stand him? How did one comfortably get out of such an awkward situation?
Her heart began to race and she pulled over to the side of the road, contemplating whether she was doing the right thing. At that point, she knew she still had an out. If she didn’t show up, that would be the end of it. She could give him a polite excuse on the website and write the whole thing off as being too hasty. In fact, he might even have encountered that before. Then, on the other hand, if she did that, she was no better than the man in the sunglasses.
Mackenzie sighed and pulled back onto the street, turning the corner so that she was only a block away from Joe’s. With an abundance of caution, she turned the car around so that it looked like she had driven there from another direction. She also wanted to make sure he didn’t follow her if the whole thing didn’t work out.
It took a lot of guts for her to get out of the car and go into that bar. She did it, though, and once inside, realized that she was going to have to pick him out in the darkness of that room. He must’ve been watching for her, as she was there only a couple of seconds when an arm began to wave through the air and a hand back into her.
She couldn’t see him yet, there were too many heads in the way. She moved leisurely in the direction of the arm, fully conscious that she had already made a fool of herself once that day. She didn’t need another incident.
Then a strange thing happened. It was as if the entire meeting had been choreographed. People scooted their chairs to the left or to the right, the waitress headed toward the bar, two women headed toward the restrooms, and all this movement opened a visual line as though she were Moses parting the Red Sea. She got her first look at Bill.
It was one of those moments where you hold your breath. Did he like the way she looked? Did she like the way he looked? It was the old, “Am I okay, are you okay?” He stood up and came toward her, towering over her by at least six inches. That was a good start in her opinion. She happened to like taller men. He looked exactly like his photo, even a bit better.
For his part, his smile was sincere and unbroken when he looked at her. She thought that was a pretty good sign. There was neither disappointment, nor surprise, and so she imagined that she pretty much looked like her photos, too. She walked toward him and pulled out a stool at one of the high tables.
“Have a seat,” Bill invited, and as she set her bag down and bent to sit, he pushed it forward, making the entire action quite smooth and natural. She was gratef
ul.
“I’m so nervous,” she said honestly. In fact, she felt a bit ill in the pit of her stomach and almost wish she could stand up and leave gracefully.
“That’s pretty normal, I hear.”
“Normal?”
“Well, you see, I used to play a bit of football back in school and always felt nerved up in the locker room. Once you got onto the field, it became automatic for you and the nerves went away. So I’m guessing right now, you’re feeling locker room nerves.”
“I’ve never thought of them as that, but I think you’re probably right. So, did you have any trouble finding the place?” As soon as the words left her mouth she felt like a fool. Of course he would have no trouble; they both lived in the same area. In fact, he was the one who had invited her. “Gosh, what a stupid thing to say.”
“Let’s just write that went off to the locker room.” He was smiling and this relaxed her.
“You’ve got a deal. Now, you get to say one stupid thing so that we’re even,” she invited him.
“You’re even prettier in person.”
His words were simple, yet the depth and texture of his voice made them magical. She was suddenly very glad that she had come. “Thank you. So, what do we talk about at one of these meet and greets?”
“Generally, we begin by telling stories of previous dates that we’ve had that went wrong. That tells each of us what qualities we don’t like in other people. But, since you’re new with this, I’ll let you get off without telling me and I won’t share stories with you.”
“And that leaves us, where?” she asked.
“That leaves us with the typical questions of what is your favorite color, what is your favorite television show, who’s your favorite movie actor, how old were you when you had your first kiss, you get it.”
“Okay. Green is my favorite color, my favorite television show was Happy Days when I was a kid, my favorite movie actor is Kevin Costner, and I think I was ten when I got my first kiss.”
“You think?”
“What I remember I was definitely ten because it was my birthday, and my mother threw a party for me. What I’m not entirely sure of is whether Billy Dodd’s lips brushing mine could be considered truly a kiss.”
“We’ll give him the benefit of the doubt, only because that makes you a more experienced woman,” he retorted with a laugh. At that point, the waitress came up and he ordered two glasses of burgundy, looking to her for approval before the waitress left. Mackenzie nodded.
“Well, there’s something I need to get out of the way at the beginning.”
“Okaaaay,” he dragged out the word as though waiting to hear her horrible secret. “What is it?”
“My name is not Alice.”
“No! Say it’s not so!” He drew back in horror, covering his mouth.
“I take it you’re not surprised?”
“Not in the least. Women seldom use their real names on a dating site. So, if that cheers you any, recognize that you were already learning how to take care of yourself without knowing it.”
Mackenzie liked Bill. “Is your real name Bill?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. I wasn’t as creative as you. So, may I ask your real first name?”
“It’s Mackenzie,” and she spelled it out for him.
He thrust his hand across the table toward her. “How do you do, Mackenzie. I’m Bill. It’s nice to meet you.”
With a smile, she began to relax even a bit more. The waitress arrived with their wine and Mackenzie took her first deep sip. It’d been a long time since she’d had alcohol and the taste of it gave her a bit of a shock. She coughed as it went down.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded, holding the napkin over her mouth as she finished coughing.
“I take it it’s been a while since you had alcohol?”
“Yes, and I feel like a fool. It’s just that I’m so nervous, I seem to have lost all sense of protocol. I’ve never been on a blind date, you know.”
“How did you and your husband meet?”
“We were high school sweethearts.” Her voice was softer as she remembered meeting David on the first day of history class.
She’d gotten turned around heading for class and arrived just as the bell rang. She grabbed the first seat that was open and it turned out David was sitting directly behind her. Throughout the hour, he had tapped the center of her back with the eraser end of his pencil.
She remembered shaking it off by jerking her shoulders, until the frequency drew the teacher’s attention. The teacher called her by name, asking whether or not she had a problem and Mackenzie, face flushed with embarrassment, shook her head no. David had met her in the hallway after class and they had instantly become an item.
“Memories?” Bill’s face was empathetic, and he gave her the respect of a few silent moments as she remembered.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I can’t help it. Things just come to mind.”
“Don’t worry about it. It just tells me the depth of love that you’re capable of.”
“What a nice way to think of it. Anyway, I told myself I wouldn’t bring up my past. That’s hardly something you want to hear about.”
“It’s a part of who you are, and as such, I want to hear about it.”
Mackenzie nodded, drawing another sip from her wine glass. “And you? How did you meet your ex-wife?”
Bill laughed out loud. “At her divorce hearing.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“She had married some guy on the spur of the moment and was at the courthouse having the divorce finalized. The strap on her handbag broke and everything but the kitchen sink spilled out onto the marble tiles. I could tell she was really upset and assumed she was probably late.
“I sort of leapt forward and helped her gather everything up and shove it back in her bag. She smiled and I was hooked. I was there waiting to pay a traffic ticket, but I waited around until she was done and held the door for her as we left the building. I asked her to have a cup of coffee with me and I guess she was feeling pretty down with the divorce and all, so she accepted.”
“And, what went wrong?”
“She went looking for a new someone else at the same courthouse.” He tipped up the wine glass and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. Mackenzie recognized the defensive stance and gave him a few moments of private thought, as well.
“Strange, how we think we know everything when we’re young and we have everything planned out. It always turns out that were so wrong. So very, very wrong.”
He nodded in agreement. They had already become comfortable with one another, and their conversation continued for another two and a half hours. Eventually, Mackenzie’s eyes felt heavy and she knew she needed to leave. She mentioned that she was tired and wanted to go home.
“Will you have dinner with me on Friday night?” he asked her.
It only took her a moment before she nodded. “I think I would like that. If you don’t mind, let me catch you online this week and we can talk about it.”
“Fair enough. Just promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“If you meet Mr. Right sometime between now and Friday, you’ll at least have dinner with me and give me a fighting chance?”
She laughed. “Deal.”
With that, Bill pushed his chair back and came around the table to pull hers out, helping her to put her coat on. Spontaneously, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, saying, “Goodnight now.”
“Goodnight, Alice.”
She walked out of Joe’s, realizing that he was staying behind so that she could find her car and leave without feeling as though she were being followed. He was an extremely considerate man.
The drive home felt much slower than the drive there. In that soft, secret place of Mackenzie’s mind, she almost wished he had asked to follow her home. It had been a long time since she felt the strength of a man’s arms around her. It would’ve felt nice for him to just lie nex
t to her, fully clothed, and just hold her until she fell asleep. She banished the thought from her mind, knowing it would never stop there.
She brushed her teeth, changed into her sleep shirt, and tossed off the decorative pillows from her bed. Climbing between the sheets, she flipped off the light and snuggled in, content for the first time in over two years.
Chapter Five
“So, what did you do this weekend?” Lucy asked her as they stood next to the coffee maker.
“I really don’t want to even tell you,” Mackenzie admitted.
“That bad? Or that good?” Lucy was like a dog with a bone when she was trying to get to the bottom of something.
“That different,” Mackenzie allowed.
“Really?” Lucy’s face lit up at the prospect of gossip fodder. She reached for the coffee pot, pouring herself a second cup so she would be well fueled to make the rounds. “Don’t hold me in suspense. Tell me everything.”
“No, I won’t tell you anything. You’ll march right out of here and tell everyone in the whole office. My personal business is not a source of entertainment.”
“No!” she breathed a whisper of denial. “You can’t do that to me. How much work do you think I’m going to get done if I know there’s something juicy you’re not telling me?”
“That is not my problem. It’s yours, or more to the point, the company’s.”
“You’re mean, you know that?” Lucy stuck her tongue out at Mackenzie and left the coffee room, looking over her shoulder to see if the ruse worked. Mackenzie was staring into her coffee, stirring it thoughtfully before returning to her desk.
Mackenzie’s mind was not on her work. She found she had to repeat looking up things; the first time she would look it up, she would turn to use the results and have forgotten the answer. The more she did it, the more frustrated she became. Lucy found continual excuses to get up from her desk and walk next to Mackenzie, bending to whisper things in her ear.
“You’ve got to tell me; you always tell me everything.” On her return to her desk, she whispered, “I can tell you are preoccupied. If for nothing other than your own good mental health, you should tell your best friend.”
