Page 11 of The Cannon
“Hey, what do you think of me bringing your sister flowers? You know, a thank you.”
“Is this a thing? I mean, you’re genuinely interested?”
“Yeah. Help me. Give me some pointers.”
He lays his utensils down and gets serious.
“I think your hound is barking up the wrong tree. But I’ll give you the best tip I have.”
“Great.”
“Go slow.”
He resumes his meal.
“That’s it? Go slow?”
“Don’t underestimate what I’m saying. She doesn’t respond to men who crowd her.”
I roll the idea around and let it settle.
“I was going to bring her flowers. As a thank you. Show up at her office and let her see I’m a grateful guy for what she did.”
“Bad idea. Horrible.”
It’s easy to read my fallen face.
“Don’t do it. Send the flowers. Write a note that doesn’t express anything but gratitude. Leave the romance out. That’s the way in, brother.”
I know when to listen, and this is one of those times. On the surface Brick’s advice sounds conservative. But I don’t think this is a brother protecting sister moment. They’re too old for that dynamic. I’m going to listen, back off with the flirting, and let her come to me slow like. At least I’ll try.
“Grandma Birdie said she invited you to Sunday supper. You coming?”
“I’ll be there,” I say smiling in anticipation.
“Good. If you’re going to be interested in Bristol, you need to let them all see who you are. That’s the first wall you have to scale.”
“I can do that.”
He leans back in his chair. “If it’s any consolation the girls are rooting for you. They think Bristol doesn’t carve out enough time for a personal relationship.”
“What about that doctor? Raul.”
“That’s nothing.”
“Nothing she’s interested in?”
His eyes meet mine. “She’s not really interested in him and neither are we. He didn’t click with any of us.”
For the rest of our meal I considered the advice. This must be what real families do. They’re a unit, each person standing beside and watching over the others best interests. Even into adulthood. It must be great knowing you are part of a pack.
* * *
Her thankyou card arrived two days after I’d sent flowers. Per Brick’s suggestion I had the florist write a simple note.Thank you, Bristol.I agonized over what I’d say. Those three words took an hour to come up with. It sounded impersonal.
What I wanted to tell her was when I came to on the alley floor that night, the feel of her soft hands was the first thing that hit me. Then the eyes. I know she was looking at me doctor to patient, but I got lost inside hers like a swimmer in a crystal blue lake. It felt like I had gazed in them in another lifetime.
Driving onto the Swift property I’m second guessing my wardrobe choices. Choosing a nice short-sleeved top that shows my guns was my nod to relaxed. Now the dress pants and good shoes are giving me doubts.
