attention span, between point A: (Leon’s) and now point B: (A small neighborhood park in west Raleigh). He had revisited the communications between them, and the absence of detail and brevity left him halfway expecting this woman to try and sell him some of her daughter’s fundraiser cookies, or a year supply of toilet tissue. It seemed like he had met her a month ago, but only eleven days had passed and he needed to be reminded of why he was even there, but then he saw her, and all hell quietly broke loose within the man.
Only in North Carolina can it be 30° one day in November, and 70° the next. She sauntered up wearing a faded pair of vintage jeans, with the appropriate well-earned fray, an Abercrombie & Fitch t-shirt and one of her sons’ baseball cap with a short ponytail pulled through the back, her brunette hair now shimmering with a hint of auburn, and no makeup, she didn’t need it …God help him. He would have probably agreed to murder for hire right then and there, figuratively of course, or at least offered up the contents of his wallet for the opportunity to unwrap her. He had the look on his face of a man about to go over the waterfall and knows there’s nothing he can do to avoid it. Life had slowed such that seconds seemed like minutes. His sudden self-awareness of weakness where she was concerned, seemingly announced in his smiling eyes and bashful grin. If this doesn’t work out I can always pursue stalking, he joked to himself.
Ivey who? No disrespect intended, the young woman would have her well-deserved and rightfully distinguished place in that heart-shaped box of amorous events, but right now the name conjured up nothing more than the image of Hedera Helix , which was not a Cuban singer, but the scientific name for common English ivy as it was known at the plant nurseries he did business with …something else he had planted with great success. The experience had been unbelievable, truly unbelievable, like a beautiful mirage unbelievable, but he was now staring at a potential oasis , which like one of those tricky damn SAT questions: Reason is to Excuse as; A) Oasis is to Mirage… i.e., one is real, the other is not, and he could only think about the possibility of the refreshment it might offer him if he played this right.
He rose to greet her, a simple handshake seemed formal and impolite but would have to suffice for now he decided in the half-second before things got awkward, after all they were in a public place, and at best like prison pen pals gathering to discuss …her escape, a conjugal visit or what? She would resolve the dilemma, extending her hand first, with a “ Hey you, nice to see you again. I bet you forgot what I looked like, sorry to show up looking such a mess. ” A damn hot mess he told himself, and like the night at the club, he felt himself slowly turning into Billy Bob Thornton in Sling Blade , as if he might start speaking in monosyllabic utterances about “ biscuits and mustard, ” and “ liking some French fried potaters ,” when she unfairly flashed that wicked grin, touched him on the hand, and fucked his head up momentarily.
Bypassing any small talk because her schedule didn’t allow for it, she sat down across from him, her legs crossed, and seamlessly began to lay out her situation succinctly like a CEO who had a plane to catch. What was absent from her marriage, what wasn’t, what she ideally wanted from him, what was acceptable/unacceptable, what he could expect in return, the deal and the deal-breakers so to speak. In short it sounded a lot like a sexual 401k plan to her marriage, to supplement the physical aspects. “ Are we good, what do ya think?” “ Sound like something you’d be interested in? ”
Like any well-deserving applicant, he had some questions he had prepared for the “interview” regarding the nature of her marriage, i.e., was it “open,” “polyamorous”…did they dress up like the butler and French maid and chase
Only in North Carolina can it be 30° one day in November, and 70° the next. She sauntered up wearing a faded pair of vintage jeans, with the appropriate well-earned fray, an Abercrombie & Fitch t-shirt and one of her sons’ baseball cap with a short ponytail pulled through the back, her brunette hair now shimmering with a hint of auburn, and no makeup, she didn’t need it …God help him. He would have probably agreed to murder for hire right then and there, figuratively of course, or at least offered up the contents of his wallet for the opportunity to unwrap her. He had the look on his face of a man about to go over the waterfall and knows there’s nothing he can do to avoid it. Life had slowed such that seconds seemed like minutes. His sudden self-awareness of weakness where she was concerned, seemingly announced in his smiling eyes and bashful grin. If this doesn’t work out I can always pursue stalking, he joked to himself.
Ivey who? No disrespect intended, the young woman would have her well-deserved and rightfully distinguished place in that heart-shaped box of amorous events, but right now the name conjured up nothing more than the image of Hedera Helix , which was not a Cuban singer, but the scientific name for common English ivy as it was known at the plant nurseries he did business with …something else he had planted with great success. The experience had been unbelievable, truly unbelievable, like a beautiful mirage unbelievable, but he was now staring at a potential oasis , which like one of those tricky damn SAT questions: Reason is to Excuse as; A) Oasis is to Mirage… i.e., one is real, the other is not, and he could only think about the possibility of the refreshment it might offer him if he played this right.
He rose to greet her, a simple handshake seemed formal and impolite but would have to suffice for now he decided in the half-second before things got awkward, after all they were in a public place, and at best like prison pen pals gathering to discuss …her escape, a conjugal visit or what? She would resolve the dilemma, extending her hand first, with a “ Hey you, nice to see you again. I bet you forgot what I looked like, sorry to show up looking such a mess. ” A damn hot mess he told himself, and like the night at the club, he felt himself slowly turning into Billy Bob Thornton in Sling Blade , as if he might start speaking in monosyllabic utterances about “ biscuits and mustard, ” and “ liking some French fried potaters ,” when she unfairly flashed that wicked grin, touched him on the hand, and fucked his head up momentarily.
Bypassing any small talk because her schedule didn’t allow for it, she sat down across from him, her legs crossed, and seamlessly began to lay out her situation succinctly like a CEO who had a plane to catch. What was absent from her marriage, what wasn’t, what she ideally wanted from him, what was acceptable/unacceptable, what he could expect in return, the deal and the deal-breakers so to speak. In short it sounded a lot like a sexual 401k plan to her marriage, to supplement the physical aspects. “ Are we good, what do ya think?” “ Sound like something you’d be interested in? ”
Like any well-deserving applicant, he had some questions he had prepared for the “interview” regarding the nature of her marriage, i.e., was it “open,” “polyamorous”…did they dress up like the butler and French maid and chase
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