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Authors: J. D. Burrows
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and lack of
confidence.
We have superficial conversation about nothing substantial.
Before we leave, I make a quick visit to the ladies’ room to collect myself,
check my makeup, and go before the long ride home.
Ian takes the freeway back, rather than the scenic route,
and returns me home mid-afternoon. After he pulls into a parking spot, he turns
off the SUV and looks at me.
“When can I see you again?”
“Whenever you like. I think my calendar is wide open.” It’s
not exactly like I have dates penned in for every day.
“How about tomorrow? You go to church or anything in
the morning?”
“Who me? I used to, but not anymore.”
“Yeah, me too.” He hesitates and then offers a suggestion.
“Well, how about we take a drive to the coast tomorrow?”
Wow, gorge one day, coast the next? Now I’m
singing praises in my head. I’m starving for a chance to walk the beach.
“Yeah, that sounds great,” I reply in a perky tone.
“Cannon Beach okay?”
“Perfect.”
“Pick you up at nine a.m.?”
“Perfect.”
He’s smiling from ear to ear, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed
by the fact that I get to spend more time with him. Guess things turned out
okay, and I haven’t scared him off yet.
“Thanks for today. I had a lovely time.”
“Yeah, me too. Let me walk you up to your apartment.”
He jumps out of the car, opens my door, and grabs my hand.
We walk together up the stairs, and he stops. The usual question looms in my
brain, do I invite him in or not? I don’t want to, because I need a break
to process our time together and prepare for tomorrow.
“Mind if I kiss you?” His blues eyes beg.
“No,” I sheepishly reply.
He puts his arms around me and draws me close into his firm
torso. My body responds to his touch, and suddenly I’m mush. It’s been too long
since I’ve felt the embrace of a man. I literally want to sob in his arms
because I’m being held, but I control myself. After another sweet and tender
kiss, he looks at me adoringly.
“So glad you ran into me. See you tomorrow.”
With that, he turns and trots down the steps and out of
sight. Suddenly, the absence of his presence is painful. The tears I held in a
moment ago, sting my eyes. I insert the key into the lock and disappear into my
solitary cave to be the lonely, pathetic Rachel once again.
Chapter 5
A Time to Snoop
Whiskers wanders out of the bedroom, meows and flashes me an
about-time-you-got-home look of disdain. I pick him up and cradle him in my
arms, rub his belly until he purrs, and then give him a kiss on his black nose.
He’s my rescued cat, who rescued me—for the most part.
The taste of Ian’s kiss lingers on my lips, and I remember
his warm arms around me. It’s been so long since I’ve received a tender touch,
I still cannot process the act with clarity. I love the feel of a man’s
embrace, yet at the same time my alter ego wants to push him away. He’s
invading my space. It’s a carefully planned and well-built line of defense that
follows me like a protective bubble wherever I go. When breached, I feel
uncomfortable, threatened, and unnerved. There is so much I want out of life,
but I possess so little courage that I cannot make myself believe that anything
worthy awaits me in this relationship long-term.
After spending a few minutes sulking around the house, I
turn on my computer and sit down. Windows comes to life. I connect to the
Internet, and click on my page to see if I have any pseudo-friend comments. I
look at my four hundred and eighty-two friends, most of whom I’ve never met
face-to-face. I think only twenty-five people I actually know. The others are
pictures of smiling faces or false identities. My own consists of some
nineteenth century painter’s portrait of some beautiful woman. I hate my photo,
and this makes me feel better about myself.
The first thing I notice is a new friend request, so I click
on it. Ian Richards wants to be friends. My heart skips a beat,
confidence.
We have superficial conversation about nothing substantial.
Before we leave, I make a quick visit to the ladies’ room to collect myself,
check my makeup, and go before the long ride home.
Ian takes the freeway back, rather than the scenic route,
and returns me home mid-afternoon. After he pulls into a parking spot, he turns
off the SUV and looks at me.
“When can I see you again?”
“Whenever you like. I think my calendar is wide open.” It’s
not exactly like I have dates penned in for every day.
“How about tomorrow? You go to church or anything in
the morning?”
“Who me? I used to, but not anymore.”
“Yeah, me too.” He hesitates and then offers a suggestion.
“Well, how about we take a drive to the coast tomorrow?”
Wow, gorge one day, coast the next? Now I’m
singing praises in my head. I’m starving for a chance to walk the beach.
“Yeah, that sounds great,” I reply in a perky tone.
“Cannon Beach okay?”
“Perfect.”
“Pick you up at nine a.m.?”
“Perfect.”
He’s smiling from ear to ear, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed
by the fact that I get to spend more time with him. Guess things turned out
okay, and I haven’t scared him off yet.
“Thanks for today. I had a lovely time.”
“Yeah, me too. Let me walk you up to your apartment.”
He jumps out of the car, opens my door, and grabs my hand.
We walk together up the stairs, and he stops. The usual question looms in my
brain, do I invite him in or not? I don’t want to, because I need a break
to process our time together and prepare for tomorrow.
“Mind if I kiss you?” His blues eyes beg.
“No,” I sheepishly reply.
He puts his arms around me and draws me close into his firm
torso. My body responds to his touch, and suddenly I’m mush. It’s been too long
since I’ve felt the embrace of a man. I literally want to sob in his arms
because I’m being held, but I control myself. After another sweet and tender
kiss, he looks at me adoringly.
“So glad you ran into me. See you tomorrow.”
With that, he turns and trots down the steps and out of
sight. Suddenly, the absence of his presence is painful. The tears I held in a
moment ago, sting my eyes. I insert the key into the lock and disappear into my
solitary cave to be the lonely, pathetic Rachel once again.
Chapter 5
A Time to Snoop
Whiskers wanders out of the bedroom, meows and flashes me an
about-time-you-got-home look of disdain. I pick him up and cradle him in my
arms, rub his belly until he purrs, and then give him a kiss on his black nose.
He’s my rescued cat, who rescued me—for the most part.
The taste of Ian’s kiss lingers on my lips, and I remember
his warm arms around me. It’s been so long since I’ve received a tender touch,
I still cannot process the act with clarity. I love the feel of a man’s
embrace, yet at the same time my alter ego wants to push him away. He’s
invading my space. It’s a carefully planned and well-built line of defense that
follows me like a protective bubble wherever I go. When breached, I feel
uncomfortable, threatened, and unnerved. There is so much I want out of life,
but I possess so little courage that I cannot make myself believe that anything
worthy awaits me in this relationship long-term.
After spending a few minutes sulking around the house, I
turn on my computer and sit down. Windows comes to life. I connect to the
Internet, and click on my page to see if I have any pseudo-friend comments. I
look at my four hundred and eighty-two friends, most of whom I’ve never met
face-to-face. I think only twenty-five people I actually know. The others are
pictures of smiling faces or false identities. My own consists of some
nineteenth century painter’s portrait of some beautiful woman. I hate my photo,
and this makes me feel better about myself.
The first thing I notice is a new friend request, so I click
on it. Ian Richards wants to be friends. My heart skips a beat,
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