Page 34 of My Turkish Fling
I walked around and pulled some weeds and searched online for a way to get rid of the white butterflies eating her kale.
Finally, I made it to the stables. I examined Molly’s eye, which looked a lot better, and gave her the drops. She barely reacted this time, already used to my presence. The late afternoon sun was still warm and gorgeous, so I let her out.
I was watching her gallop up the hill when I heard the engine. Janie’s car. She was leaving for her date. Everything in me tightened at the thought, and the headache returned like an internal hammer pounding my skull. What if they hit it off? Most people didn’t get that far on the first date, but Janie would. She was in a vulnerable place, and brave enough to bypass the usual pretense. She’d done it with me. What if she turned to this other guy and confided in him? What if she fell in love with him? I would lose my chance with her if I ever had one.
I’d made all my decisions carefully, to avoid pain. But right now, my whole body ached. I rubbed my temples, trying to relax my shoulders, but it seemed to do nothing. What if this pain was even worse? What if Janie’s new man wanted me out of the house and I’d lose her massages as well? I couldn’t help the niggling realization that time was running out. There was an offer on the table, and it was about to expire.
I rushed towards the driveway, waving my arms to get her attention, but her Lexus sped past me, leaving me in a cloud ofdust. Had she not noticed me, or deliberately ignored my signal?
Chapter 16
Janie
I closed the front door behind me, my nerves buzzing like the coffee maker I’d cranked up to its highest setting to perk up for the evening. My own house had become a mood, one that was hard to shake. It had taken ninety minutes of preparation, including a bubble bath singing along to Abba, to get me into a state where I was ready to meet anyone else at all.
As I’d prepared for the date, I’d looked up Len online, trying to find out more about him. I was hoping to find something to pique my curiosity, or even an interesting conversation topic, but Len didn’t have much of an online presence outside of his job. His name only popped up boringly and appropriately in context of weddings and funerals. Even in the rare photos, he stood in the background, out of focus, his black shirt and white collar thepicture of service.
Before leaving, I’d once again walked from one end of the house to the other, hoping to bump into Emir in my pre-date glory. His door was ajar, his bed made with military style precision, but Emir must have been outside, possibly avoiding me.
It was easier this way. I didn’t need to see his conflicted face or hear his opinions on Len. The guy who’d just kissed me and pushed me away could hardly be impartial. Still, I’d changed into a shimmering teal dress and heels, blow-dried my hair in soft waves and spent an hour on my makeup and was hoping to walk past him. He’d seen me at my worst. It didn’t seem fair that when I finally pulled myself together, he’d disappear. All the effort I’d put into getting ready, wasted.
I unlocked my car, my inside contracting with shame. How could I think like that? I’d prettied myself up for Len, obviously. He was the one who needed to witness and appreciate my efforts, not Emir. Why couldn’t I get this message through to my thick skull?
As I passed the stables, I noticed him, a fraction of a second that registered as a flash in the corner of my eye. It took me a moment to realize what I’d seen, and by the time I’d rounded the bend, turning onto the main road, it was too late to check in the rearview mirror. Maybe I’d imagined the whole thing. If I turned back, I’d be late for my date. So, I kept driving, wondering if I’d seen Emir or imagined him.
The sandwich board outside the restaurant advertised a quarter pound steak with various types of potatoes. As I stepped inside, I was greeted by the general hubbub of middle-aged men enjoyinghappy hour, a rugby game blasting on the TV above the bar. Not a quiet, intimate place then. Maybe that was for the best.
I scanned the wooden tables and sturdy chairs set under windows overlooking the busy downtown street. It looked like one of those middle-of-the-road places with nothing exciting about it. Traditional, yet without any Art Deco influences Napier was known for. I’d walked past many times and had never even noticed the restaurant. But maybe Len knew better.
Where was he anyway?
I edged closer to the dining side, turning away from the bar in case any of the patrons recognized me. It didn’t happen so regularly anymore, now that I wasn’t on TV every morning, but seeing the TV screen above the bar still gave me an uneasy feeling.
“Janie?”
I whipped around and found Len standing behind me, dressed in jeans and a beige jacket with no tie, his brown hair combed to perfection.
“Hi, Len.” I smiled, accepting his friendly handshake.
He led me to the farthest table, obscured by a row of artificial plants, and I sighed with relief. Sitting here, nobody could see me from the bar.
“Nice place,” I said, sliding into the padded seat.
Len smiled. “I’m aware it’s probably not your speed, but their steak is great and there’re never any tourists.”
“You don’t like tourists?” My mind jumped to Emir, and I focused my eyes on the dimple on his clean-shaven cheek.
Dimples were cute. Emir didn’t have one. Or maybe he did. Ihadn’t actually seen him smile. Okay. I officially couldn’t get the Turkish man out of my head.
Len shrugged, giving me a sheepish smile. “I find those tourist traps a bit disingenuous, and overpriced.”
“For sure.”
He leaned in. “I must confess I’m not well versed in fine dining. Or dating in general. I was afraid that if I took you somewhere fancy, I might commit a terrible faux pas and embarrass you. Or you’d get the wrong idea of what I can afford.”
He had that self-deprecating, easy manner that made him instantly relatable, yet somehow teflon. It made me think of my colleagues on the morning show. There was a similar energy. On air, you had to be endlessly affable and witty, so most of us learned to smile and joke our way through life, always keeping the tone upbeat. I believed in smiling. It energized me even when my soul felt heavy, but now I wanted to lose the chitchat. I wanted to be real, even uncomfortable. The way I could be with Emir. Maybe it was possible with Len, too, if I was brave enough to try.
“It’s all good,” I told him. “I’m on a tight budget myself. The divorce left me out of pocket and I’m skimping on anything non-essential. So, I’m not much of a catch in that sense.”
