Saturday, January 27, 2018

Innocent observation

Blaine and I went to the historical part of downtown to a new bar that is trying to establish itself a venue for local and regional bands. A Facebook friend had posted about it, and when I checked the website I noticed the band tonight was billed as Chicago blues, jazz and swing. When Blaine came to the bar on my birthday he mentioned liking blues and so I thought it might appeal.

The band had a couple of blues influenced songs that I liked a lot. Otherwise, it sounded like good musicians who didn’t quite grasp the soul of those musical styles. Blaine wasn’t into it either. We left in the second set and went back to my house.

I had bought a bottle of Cabernet that Blaine likes and put it into a one-bottle wine chiller so it would be the proper temperature when needed. This particular chiller can be plugged into a wall outlet or a cigarette lighter, so you know it’s a high quality device. Blaine laughed when I pointed out its adaptability. He commented that, chiller aside, I was surprisingly well equipped for someone who doesn’t drink wine. He was holding the Rabbit corkscrew and also was referring to the wine glasses, which are pretty good quality.

I explained that years ago I had a friend who schooled me in the relationship between quality crystal and flavor enhancement. He also gave me the Rabbit after watching me accidentally push corks into too many bottles. Blaine closed his eyes and shook his head at that.

“Was this a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Still around?”

“No.” He glanced at me to see if I would offer more. “He started dating someone and when things became serious she told him she wasn’t comfortable with him having a close friend who was a woman.” Blaine’s eyebrows rose. I shrugged. Long time ago. Water under the bridge.

It occurred to me we were getting dangerously close to the territory of past relationships, a topic I am in no hurry to cover. I suggested looking for something on Netflix to watch. We only got as far as turning on the TV and loading the app. Blaine was in an exploration mood and moved around the living room, checking out what I have hanging on the walls. Most are framed photographs taken by me so not high quality but of meaningful places. He checked out the photos that sit on top of the bookcases, too. One is the last formal portrait taken of my dad, my brother and me.
“How old were you here?” he asked.

“College. A junior or senior.” The photo was taken for the church directory so it isn’t a great. The color is off and we’re all a bit sallow. But I was young and it was a happy time in my life.

He continued to look at the photo but it seemed like he was thinking more than seeing. “When this was taken I had been married for a year, maybe two.” He looked at me, but I couldn’t read his expression. “I wouldn’t have…” he pulled his shoulders up, “noticed you because of where I was in my life.” I don’t know if we were thinking the same thing just then, that if his wife were still living we would never be standing here together. In some part of my mind I’ve thought about that before, but just then -- after having so much fun last night and looking forward to tonight -- the recognition of it felt like ice spreading through me, slowing everything down. Some ghosts from my past rose, reminding me my natural position in life is distant second or third.

How could one innocent observation make such a difference?

I didn’t know what to say. I summoned my no-worries-here voice. “Timing is an interesting thing.” It was the best I could come up with. “Refill?” I reached to take his nearly empty glass from his hand, wanting a chance to walk into the other room for a minute.

He let me take it but then caught me around the waist before I could walk away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound like it did.”

“It didn’t,” I promised, although I wasn’t sure how he thought it sounded. “You didn’t say anything wrong.” And he hadn’t.

He let me have a few seconds in the kitchen. I refilled his wine glass, and I filled a tumbler with ice water for me. I couldn’t drink anymore Cabernet, and my mouth was especially dry.

We never did get to Netflix. Blaine detected a change in me and seemed genuinely worried that we were in a bad place. He talked me through some things about the loss of his wife and his life in the six years since. I understand loss and losing someone to illness long before it should be their time but I have no idea of the emotional complexities that come with losing a spouse, let alone establishing a life they’re not part of. I appreciated that he talked to me about it.

He said that a couple of years ago he decided to try dating, wanting conversation and friendship rather than romance. He went out to dinner twice with a woman, waiting a month between invitations. I was glad when he poked fun at himself about waiting so long because I was having trouble suppressing a grin.

“Right around that time Eve started talking about this woman she worked with who was funny, smart and sweet with an amazing smile.” I rolled my eyes. Blaine pointed at me “She mentioned, too, that you have no idea those things are true. She kept hinting that she was going to invite you when a bunch of us got together. As you know,” he nudged me, ”that didn’t happen for a long time.”

In between he met a woman he thought he could like and they went out a few times before it ran its course. He said that had seemed like enough for him, and he didn’t know if he would bother again. “You came to [The Bistro] that afternoon and when you didn’t stay for dinner, I was disappointed. When I said I wouldn’t have noticed you back when you were in college, I was thinking, ‘Boy, I notice her now.’ I said the wrong thing out loud.”

We continued to talk into the early morning but it was simply conversation between people who find lots of the same things worth talking about.

As he was leaving, Blaine put his forehead against mine. “Will you go out with me again?”

“This is rather sudden,” I teased. “Wouldn’t you rather get back to me in March?” I felt him chuckle.

“Nope. I always ask you at the end so you won’t have time to think it through and decide you can do better.”

“I haven’t come close to thinking that, so yes, I will go out with you again.”

“Great. March it is. The weather will be nice and we can walk that river trail we talked about.”

“Next week. I will go out with you again next week.”

“Perfect.”

1 comment:

  1. I'm glad he's really working on what to do and say with you because it sounds like he had absolutely no game a few years ago. A month? Holy cow.

    ReplyDelete

Search This Blog

Powered by Blogger.