Never Thought It Possible

Here we are. 

The two of us — alone. 

Okay, so we aren't entirely on our own.

In the kitchen is my best friend and now hooker-upper Ellie.

I'm sitting in a floral-upholstered armchair while he stands by the window, his back to the room.

He is holding a tumbler filled with whiskey in his right hand.

A basic glass of white wine is in my left hand.

He is all decked out, wearing a grey pinstriped three-piece suit with a black shirt underneath.

The only casual touch he has made was to remove his tie and leave two of his shirt buttons undone.

I'm in a long-sleeved top in an olive green color, black pants, no socks, and my beige sandals.

I shift uneasily, conscious of the disparity.

I hear banging sounds coming from Ellie's kitchen as she prepares 'this is a casual get-together, so you and him can meet' snacks.

It's almost elegant how he pivots away from whatever he is gazing at, clears his throat, and then locks eyes with mine.

I drop my gaze from his blue — or are they green — or both— eyes.

As I stare at my shirt, I silently think, ‘Look at me. And look at him.’

Ellie steps in and places a charcuterie platter on the knee-high table, "Don't worry about how you look," as if she has been listening to my thoughts. "Ronnie has been —.”

"Ellie, please allow me to defend myself. Yes, I am well aware that I’m overdressed. But I had a client at the last minute, and it took me much longer than anticipated."

He moves closer by two steps while he holds out his hand in a supplicatory manner.

" And there was no time for me to go home and change. I hope that explanation is good enough for you.”

Simply nodding my head and flashing him a kind grin was all I could do in response to his exuded genuineness.

I would have gladly given him a hug if doing so at this stage of our relationship wasn't deemed rude.

Instead, I just stand here, feeling quite awkward.

His name is Ronnie. I assume it is Ronald. 

"Hey, you guys. Come get some food before I eat it all." 

Ellie is standing with her hands on her hips as she taps one foot, anticipating this evening turning out precisely how she had hoped it would.

Ronnie turns and bends to pick up a paper plate, bringing his attention back to me with the question, "What do you want? You tell me, and I’ll plate it for you." 

Wow!A gentleman! 

How quaint!

Or is it?

"I eat practically everything there," uncomfortable in his presence.

Why? 

Because I'm captivated by what I'm seeing and have no idea what to do with my body or my hands, which keep moving from in front of me to behind me— and I don't know where to look.

Ellie disappears into the kitchen again, and I know it's on purpose since she winks before departing.

“She’s not very subtle, is she?” Ronnie sends out an easy-going laugh, hands me a plate filled with food, and goes for one for himself.

I can't help but giggle at his remark, which is similar to how I thought, "Ellie never does anything low-key."

I settle onto the overstuffed flowered chair that is right behind my knees, and he places his dish on the table and moves the other chair so that our knees are practically touching,

“Oh,” half up out of the seat,” did you want more wine?” 

“No, “I shrug,” but thanks. One glass is good enough for me.”

I take a bite of the mushroomy flavor of camembert, and as I do so, I let out a hum because it is so delicious.

"So — what do you think we ought to discuss?" as the same cheese on a toothpick presses against his gums, and his face puckers as he struggles to swallow.

I need to stifle a chuckle, “Don’t like it?”

The fact that he instantly pops a cracker into his mouth to mask the taste, chews it, and then says, "I never could get used to the flavor of mushrooms," is indicative of this.

"Don't worry about it. We —" And at this point, I cannot help but start laughing, and he follows in the good spirit of things.

At that exact moment, Ellie comes in, "Oh, what's so funny? Or is it none of my business?” 

Ellie makes her way to her desk, where she opens her laptop and waits for it to load.

“Don’t mind me, folks. I have some stuff to do. You two just get along get alonging.”

That alone is enough for Ronnie and I to begin giggling again.

In my book of dream men, he lists high.

His nearly reddish but primarily brown hair is curly, and it appears challenging to tame those curls.

His facial features are mainly smooth, most likely due to the use of an electric shaver; nonetheless, I see a tiny scar near his right ear.

"That's from a skirmish I had when young," as he takes note of my expression. “An older kid attempted to steal my bike. He was unsuccessful," and he ran a finger absentmindedly across the mark.

“I never learned to bike. With seven in the family, it was hard enough to afford food, let alone the luxury of bicycles.”

“Oh! I guess you would consider me a spoiled child because I’m it. The only one,” and a finger gestures to his chest before dropping to the plate to tuck a slice of salami into a piece of Havarti cheese.

I do the same, chuckle before placing it in my mouth, swallow, and then say, “Ah! Must be wonderful not having to listen to the carrying on of voices in a household full of young ones.” 

Ronnie looks across the room at Ellie’s back, “Actually, I think it would have been nice to have at least one other sibling. You see —” reflective,” I grew up quite lonely. My parents owned a bakery, and most of the time, I was on my own. I don’t intend that to be the case with my children—” suddenly he turns, his eyes wide in the realization of what he said,” oh no! I meant when I have — I don’t right now.”

“I understand what you meant,” and I feel a wave of shyness wash over me as I gaze down at my shoes.

Ronnie pushes forward in his seat, bends down to take my plate from my lap, places it on the table, and reaches out with both hands to enfold one of mine.

“I think it would be better if we met somewhere else. Say for dinner tomorrow night? Then, we can get into the who, what, and why of it. What do you think?”

My breath hitches.

He likes me!

At least the me he sees right now.

I know that Ellie has her ears perked up to hear everything we say, "I think it's a wonderful idea. Where and what time?"

“Give me your address. I’ll pick you up at six. And if Italian is good for you, I know a little place that’s been around for ages. How about it?”

We both stand simultaneously, and before we can say anything further, I feel him wrapping his arms around me.

It's strange, and I notice that I'm pulling my shoulders back, keeping my arms by my sides, and trying to prevent my head from making excessive contact with his chest.

I know Ronnie senses my restraint as he lowers his arms and examines me intently while asking, "Are you all right with a hug? Or is it too soon?”

"Oh no! No! Just so —unexpected," my eyes wide open to express my surprise and my like.

"Well then," as his arms wrap around me, I follow suit without hesitation.

Comfortable and warm, I'm sure this is just the beginning of what's to come.