This morning I took the car in for an oil change, a chore I despise so much you would think I was the one under there pulling the plug and changing the filter. Mica called while I was waiting. Her outdoor faucet froze and she was worried a pipe had burst. When I said a burst pipe would be obvious because of the water pouring out of it, I meant it to be reassuring. She heard it another way. After a little while she texted that she had a plumber coming after lunch and asked me to pick up the little white dog and Chloe, Sophie’s dog, from the groomer. The plumber only stayed 10 minutes and found everything was OK, and the dogs weren’t finished until later than usual so Mica picked them up. I went to the grocery store and Target. Forgot to stop at the bank.
And then there was tonight. After learning that yesterday was the anniversary of Blaine’s wife’s death, I didn’t know what to expect from tonight. All day my thoughts were less than gracious. They were, in fact, self-centered. Recognizing that I’m the least impacted, least important person in the scenario did not help.
An extra long shower didn’t help. Slamming brushes and various hair products around might have helped slightly. Accidentally coming across a Cubs game late in the eighth inning did help. Deciding to wear a sassy outfit, one that inspires a bit of self-confidence didn’t hurt.
And then the doorbell rang, and when I opened the door Blaine was standing there holding the screen door open, and his eyes widened. “I’ve been hoping to see that outfit again.” He stepped inside, I closed the door and he hugged me, as he usually does, and his clothes felt cool from the outdoor air and his skin felt warm and he smelled so good, as he always does, and I didn’t feel as prickly anymore. He remarked, “You’re taller tonight.” Heeled ankle boots.
“When have you seen me wear this?” I’ve avoided it because I thought it would be a little much for his taste.
“You wore it to [the band bar].” Ah. Yes, that’s where I would wear it.
We went to dinner at an Indian restaurant where the muted lighting and discreetly spaced seating whispers romance. It wasn’t chosen for that reason; it is by far the best Indian food here. On another night the atmosphere would have been nice.
The conversation through dinner was light and interesting—the usual for us. After the vegetable samosa appetizer and before the entrees arrived I checked out of the conversation for a minute. I concentrated on Blaine, on how relaxed he is now compared to early on when he always started out rather formal and seemed nervous at the end. I noticed that he seems to see me when he looks at me. He sincerely likes me. I think. Believe it anyway.
Outside the restaurant after dinner, Blaine asked if I wanted to walk to a bar and have a drink. We were in a small shopping center and the bar he suggested was in another block of buildings. As we walked, I decided to tell him what Eve had shared about the anniversary. “Are you OK?” I asked.
“I am.” We continued to walk. “Is this what’s been on your mind tonight?” I couldn’t immediately find a way to deny without lying, so there was an unintelligible sputter of parts of words. He saved me. “You’ve seemed preoccupied.”
“Oh.” Clear. Concise.
“Either preoccupied or about to break up with me.”
I smiled. “The former.”
“Good. If you ever do break up with me, wear something else when you do it. It’d be cruel to look like you do tonight and then walk away.”
And so it went for the rest of the evening.
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