Page 13 of The River in Spring
4
Dove
The initial high of performing is usually followed by an energy crash. Splat! Then by Oreos crumbled over cookies and cream ice cream in bed, watching recorded episodes of Jimmy Fallon. Or my current reality program obsession. Tonight, I am officially breaking with tradition. This is a proper dinner. With a man. An actual date.
“Want to hear which song I liked best?” Nobel says, cutting his steak.
“Was it ‘Wild Thing’?”
That’s the usual favorite of the men in general. No mystery why.
“No. Although that was great too. It was ‘Breathe’.”
He stops there, not explaining his choice further. Not acknowledging I was looking right at him as I sang. His knife and fork are still in his hands but resting on either side of his plate. He’s held the stare and is waiting for my reaction. The ball squarely in my court. Two can play.
“Why that one?” I say, forcing him to put words to feeling.
“Because, well, I kind of thought for the first time in my life I was being sung to.”
His head dips as the words come out. As if it took courage to admit it happened. What a doll. He’s damn cute for being such a handsome man. So I rescue him from drowning in unnecessary embarrassment.
“You were. Glad you noticed.”
Now the head lifts and a gorgeous smile breaks out. “I did. And I liked it.”
If anyone is watching us, they are wondering what was just said because I’m certain I look about twelve and he looks sixteen. The boy I like just said he likes me. It feels like happy mixed with embarrassment, desire with excitement. It’s a huge ball of emotions. Both of us chuckle, and now I know he feels it too. It takes a few seconds before he speaks.
“So no boyfriend? And please say no.”
Chuckling, I answer truthfully. “I’ve been too busy for a romantic connection. There have been boyfriends, but nothing has stuck. I’m a picky woman disguised as a free spirit.”
“A great combination for therightman.”
That quiet confidence he has? Gold.
“What about you? I’m certain the ladies love you.”
“It’s not like that. I’m not like that.” He says it with such certainty it’s hard to doubt.
“What are you like? Tell me.”
“I’m a man who finds satisfaction in quietness, solitude. I like my house and my job. I love my family and my dog. I am not a complicated man, in fact, what you see is what you get.”
“Have you made room for the one?”
His brows come together as if I’ve just proposed some novel idea.
“I’d make room if it happened. So far that hasn’t been the case. But I was in a long-term relationship a few years ago.”
“What happened?”
“She was too much like me. She liked her own world as much as I liked mine. We never made room for each other. Ends up, that isn’t the best way to be. Obviously love had nothing to do with it.”
“Wow. You are really fucked up.”
I hold a straight face for a good five seconds while he questions if he just heard right. Then he sees the devil in my eye. A wide smile lifts the corners of his mouth.
“For our first date this is remarkable,” he says. “I’m absolutely sure it’s going down as the best one ever.”
