Chapter 4

And so it was.

I dropped Holly off, or rather, I surrendered her car when we got back to the apartment complex. We kissed, hugged, and made plans to get together at her place at 5pm, where I would amaze her with my culinary skills ... with implications of much much more. By implications, I mean ... hot torrid sex.

I was liking this.

So, we parted ways, it was still early, 10:00 am, so I decided that I would take a couple of hours to explore the Bangor Forest walking trails and the boardwalk around the peat bog. These trails offered Mother Nature at her best, and only a few minutes out of the city. Being a beautiful day, there were a lot of people, couples walking hand in hand, families with Mom or Dad trying to keep the kiddies from running off the trail, and a lot of middle aged people there by themselves or in small groups. I stuck to the smaller trails as they were less populated, got in about five miles, finishing with the one mile loop around and through the peat bog. Feeling virtuous and healthy, with a bit of a sweat going, I hit the parking lot and piled into my Silverado and headed to the food mart.

As a man, I am genetically engineered to detest shopping. I hated malls, the crowds, the thoughts of so much money being spent in a relatively small area, on mostly items designed to have a short life, and largely on products that are completely unnecessary in life. It's a conspiracy of major marketing to brainwash the buying public into spending money they don't have on products they don't need. But, as a closet Gourmet, I enjoyed slowly strolling up and down the aisles of a food store, stopping to read labels, and preparing menus and exotic dishes in my mind as I shopped. It is one of those inexplicable things in life that I cannot explain. As I shopped for tonights dinner, I browsed the shelves and displays of fresh veggies, meats, seafood, pastas, spices, herbs, wines, and such, giving me some creative ideas for future menu possibilities. I bought: two large boneless, skinless chicken breast, a package of apple wood smoked bacon, a box of Japanese panko (rice breading), a small block of Parmigiano-Reggiano, the best Parmesan cheese known to man, some Italian Prosciutto, sliced ultra thin, some smoked Gouda, a dozen eggs, a small container of 1% milk, some fresh asparagus, fresh mushrooms, fresh green beans, a red onion, a couple of garlic cloves and a bottle of Emeril's "Bam" spice. I also bought a dozen roses and a vase, and a bottle of Gewürztraminer white wine, to accompany our meal. Loaded for bear, (a figure of speech, bears rarely are aggressive here in Maine), I headed back to my apartment to store away the goodies until later this evening.

All this time, my mind kept replaying the events of last evening and this morning. Holly was an incredible woman, some might say out of my league, but it seemed the connection was clear. While the "meet someone interesting, date, get to know them, perhaps fall in love" ritual was, for us, at supersonic levels, and out of character for both of us, it seemed so right, so comfortable, like it was truly fated. To be honest, it was a little scary. After all we were neighbors as well as new lovers ... what if this blew up in our faces? Even if this new relationship blossomed, what then? Was I ready to invest emotionally? Did I still have unresolved issues with Bobbi ... meaning did I still love her? All this pondering was giving me a headache.

Ladies ... take note, we men are not good at this sort of emotional analysis. For most men, "getting in touch with ourselves" involves a porno flick.

So, anyway I arrived back at the apartment, noticing that Holly's car wasn't there, so I parked, unloaded my groceries and put them away. I snagged a Sam's Boston larger from the fridge, stuck it in a Styrofoam "cuzzi" and decided to ponder outside, under the shade of the maple tree. As I sat down, my neighbor in #3, John Thompson, was doing what John usually did on the weekend, which is sitting on his lawn drinking beer. He noticed me and waved, I waved back. John took this as a sign ... he saw the opportunity to have a beer drinking buddy, and well, since I had a maple tree that provided shade, and he didn't, he brought his camp chair up and plopped it down beside me.

"Mornin' Max, how's it hanging?"

"Hey John, doing fine, you?"

John took a healthy swig from his bottle, belched, and grinned, "Ahhh ... I live for the weekends Max, this weather was made for drinking beer."

So, John and I chatted about this and that, a little idle gossip about a few of the newer neighbors. I waited for him to say something about Holly, I was sure by now the neighborhood gossip machine might have a inkling of an idea that Holly and I had spend some time together. I know we were seen by several neighbors getting into her car together earlier this morning. But, John never mentioned her, probably waiting for me to say something. I let it ride. Instead John mentioned the retired Nun living on Ponderosa, and how she got up each morning at dawn to prepare for and then go to mass. Idle gossip is not something I care to partake in usually, so I decided to change the subject.

"Speaking of Catholics John, did you hear the one about the two Nuns riding bicycles on the old cobblestone back streets of the Vatican one early Sunday morning on their way to mass?"

He took another swig and raised his eyebrows indicating he was all ears.

"As they bounced over the cobblestones, one Nun turned to the other and said "I've never come this way before."

"The other Nun giggled. "It's the cobblestones."

John brayed and slapped his knee, "Funny shit Max ... I can never remember jokes, you always seem to have one to fit every occasion."

"Yeah, it's a gift John."

So, this went on for an hour or so and another round of beers, which I provided, with John desperate to gossip, and me coming up with one stupid joke after another to deflect the scuttlebutt. After the second round of beers were drank, I told John I had enjoyed our visit, but I had some paperwork I wanted to get out of the way, and then I would likely take a Sunday afternoon nap. So, we made token plans to visit more often and "have a few pops", and john grabbed his chair and headed back to his place, and I went in to my apartment. What I really wanted to do was make a few preparations for tonight, and then I really did want to take a nap on the sofa with the Sox game on the tube.

I built a little care package to take with me to Holly's later. I packed some scented candles, scented massage oil, a few of my favorite mood music Cd's, the roses in the vase, and the dry goods for tonights dinner. In a small cooler, I packed the meats, the wine, the veggies, the cheeses, and the milk. I was all set for later. So, I set my alarm for 4:00 pm, flipped on the Sox game, and sacked out of the sofa. I watched the Sox, seemingly snatch defeat out of the jaws of victory, because I heard the alarm bleat annoyingly at 4:00pm. I had fallen asleep. I jumped up rubbing my eyes, and hit the shower, shaved, put on some cologne, brushed my teeth, and slipped into my favorite "dress" jeans, and a button down pinstripe Oxford, un-tucked, with the sleeves rolled up. I completed my wardrobe with suede loafer's, no socks. Freshly shaved, well groomed, white of tooth, smelling good and looking sharp, I grabbed the cooler and bag of goodies, and at 4:55, walked out of my apartment, took perhaps 20 steps and knocked on Holly's door.