Over Spilt Wine

I stand outside of the restaurant, tugging at my too-tight collar. My hands are sweaty, making the flowers wrapped in plastic slip around in my hands. I take a deep breath, grab the door handle, and step inside.

"Hello, table for one?" The woman at the welcome desk smiles at me. She is in a white shirt, black vest, basic black pants, covered by a maroon waist-only apron. She clearly doesn't cook, but in the apron is a simple notepad, pens, and napkins.

"No, I'm meeting someone here. Uh..." I rake my brain for the name she gave me on tinder, "Jessica Rink?" The woman frowns for a second, seemingly thinking about any faces that match the name.

"I don't know if she's here yet. If you'd like, you can take a quick look into the dining area, I don't think anyone would mind." I nod, and the woman opens a set of doors leading into a huge dining area. I don't see her anywhere, so I ask to be seated. The woman leads me to a table with two seats, each facing the other. I take the seat with the back to the doors, and just ask for wine. A new waiter comes out and pours me a glass. I'm surprisingly nervous, but I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach that this date will be different. That this girl will really change my life. Whether in a good of bad way, I will have to find out.

"Excuse me?" A woman behind me says, and I turn around, almost dropping my glass. The woman is beautiful, with long brown hair, blue eyes, and tan skin. She is in a red dress, one that matches her lips.

"Hello, are you Jessica Rink?" I ask. I now realize how sweaty my palms are again, and I wipe them once more on my napkin before standing up and taking her hand.

"Yes I am," she says, and she shakes my hand, "And are you Michael Rance?" I nod and pull out her chair for her. She takes a seat, orders wine, then stops, looking at my face.

"Is something wrong?" I ask, but then I see her face too, and suddenly I'm reminded of something. This woman, the woman in front of me , recently had her house burnt down. Her husband found her on a dating website, the one that I met her on, and lost control of his emotions, eventually burning the house to ashes.

My date, Jessica, is still staring at me with a frozen expression.

"Um..." I feel uncomfortable now, "Jessica? Are you okay?" I ask her, but she just stares at me, looking at me directly in the eyes. I stand up and race to the bathroom, my hands shaking at my sides. I sigh. Maybe she's just still in shock. Maybe she hit her head on something while escaping the fire. I sigh again. I leave the bathroom, and sit back down at the table. She is smiling now, and I am shocked.

"Uh...Jessica, you okay?" I ask.

"You're the cop that arrested my husband, then knocked him out cold because he was shouting out awful things about me!" She says in an excited voice that only I could hear. I drop my glass. We have met before now.

The wine flows across the floor like water in a stream, getting the floor dirty. I drop down to my knee's shocked and, in a way, completely in love with this woman I've known for five minutes. She is gorgeous, smart, and she's on her knees helping me wipe up the mess I made. Kind, too. When we arrested her husband, one of my friends asked her about what she did for a living. She looked at him, smiled and said,

"I'm a nurse, but in my free-time, I love to volunteer at children's daycares!" I think back. She seemed and still does seem so sweet. I feel this connection with her. She see's me staring and, jokingly, say's

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," I smile even wider at her.

The wine is cleaned off the floor, but it stains the napkins we used to wipe up the mess, making them a dark crimson color.

"I'm so sorry," I say to the waiter.

"No problem at all!" He says, and he smiles at me. I smile back. Jessica sits down in her seat, and I sit across from her. We order, eat, then leave, going to the beach instead of just going straight home. My polished black shoes sit next to her small, red heels, buried slightly in the sand.

"You know," I say, turning to her, and we stop walking, "I've never felt this way before. I don't think I've ever gone on a date and come out this... this..."

"Happy," she finishes for me. I look at her and, quite suddenly, I have a strong urge to pull her in close to me. In these past few hours, I've learned more about her than I could've ever imagined. I feel so happy every time I look at her face or brush her arm accidentally.

"I feel like I've known you forever," I say, and I grab her hand, "and I really do feel... so light and joyful every time I look at you. I know we just met, but I have this feeling..." but before I can finish, she's kissing me. A warmth spreads from my mouth to my arms, to my fingers, to my stomach, to my legs, all the way down to my bare feet. I hold her waist, feeling the velvet of the dress she's wearing. We stand there, and in this moment, I know that day I saw her outside of her burning house, that was God telling me that I had to get the girl. I don't know if she feels the same, but I damn well hope that she does, because this girl is perfection. This girl is kind. This girl is beautiful. And hopefully, some day, this girl will be mine.