Chapter 6

The last week of November

Thanksgiving had come on the 22nd that year, leaving another week in November and making the gap between Thanksgiving a Christmas a week longer than normal, or so it seemed. Monday morning brought my kids and I back to school. Teachers generally take one of two approaches to this period between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Either they work hard to stuff some knowledge into their kids before they become consumed with anticipation of Christmas and a two-week break, or they go with the season and not much gets done. I’m the former. We only have 180 days of instruction during the year so I pack it in. Sometimes I get flak from parents and sometimes I don’t. I didn’t get any that year, probably because the gap was so long. Whatever the reason was, it was nice.

From the students, I got a lot of family stories during lunch breaks. At lunch, I got some insight into the Pinkney family from Janice’s daughter, Marcia. It seems her father had died almost three years prior from an accident at his workplace. It was totally unexpected and devastated the family. In that conversation with her, it became pretty clear that there had been no other men in their lives since then. I realized that Janice’s invitation to join them for Thanksgiving dinner was a pretty big deal. I felt bad for having turned her down and essentially told Marcia just that. She seemed pleased that I felt bad for missing out. I also wondered if Kayla’s advice was right and that I should have gone. Kayla was usually right. Too late now but I tried to figure a way to get to know Janice better and see what might come of it.

I knew I needed to do something about the women in my life. I only had two classes after lunch so I two different teachers to cover those classes for me. Since we’d just come off a long weekend, they didn’t need their planning breaks and agreed to do it for me. I cleared it with the headmaster and took off right after lunch.

I texted Amanda, to get a feel for her day. Satisfied I wasn’t wasting my time I set off for Asheville. I already knew from text messages that Kayla wouldn’t be home until late. I pulled into the driveway before dinner and surprised Amanda. With an empty house and no responsibilities for the afternoon, I took her to bed and satisfied her several times. It was hard, fast sex that she needed. I knew what she liked and gave it to her in spades. I kissed her and hugged her and left by seven.

“There’s more to this than you’re telling me,” she texted as I drove.

“Maybe,” I replied.

I got home before midnight and hit the sack, tired and ready for the rest of the week. On Tuesday, I sent a message home with Marcia requesting a parent teacher conference. Marcia was doing fine in my class and I had no reason to ask for one so it was simply a pretext to talk to Janice. I saw her in the car line on Wednesday and we made an appointment for Friday after school. We talked in the carline again on Thursday. She called that night to confirm the time because we hadn’t actually agreed on one. Our phone conversation was pleasant and lasted much longer than necessary. It seemed like we talked about everything but Marcia. I liked the sound of her voice and the conversation had been natural and unforced even though the pretext was, and she had sounded friendly and didn’t ask what the conference was for. Parents always ask what a conference is for and sometimes they’re confrontational about it. They’re worried about their children and their possible shortcomings. By Friday morning, I still didn’t have a legitimate agenda for our parent teacher conference and had wound myself up something fierce.

A couple of years prior, I had met Maja’s mom, Elsa at a parent, teacher conference and that had been the single most memorable conference I’d ever had. The conference was weird but it set the stage for our relationship. That relationship had been like a storybook until it simply and suddenly stopped completely. The ending was as unexpected to me as the death of Janice’s husband would have been to her. When I put those two events together in my mind, I couldn’t separate them again. Not having an agenda made me anxious and the whole mess twisted me in a knot. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been anxious about something. At least not to that degree.

I’ve gone through life generally confident in just about any situation. I know my strengths and limitations and don’t impose on my limitations and don’t apologize for my shortcomings. I’m overqualified for my job and I’m very good at it. I could easily leave and get another job the same day. I could handle myself in a fight and I was doing pretty well financially. My health was good and I knew that more than a few women found me attractive. I had made a crazy new relationship with my cousins and I was sexually fulfilled. All of these things kept my confidence right where it belonged; high ... usually.

I also went home every night to an empty house. I didn’t even have a dog. A dog would be nice. Conversations with paddle boarding friends or guys from the martial arts school were all focused on a single, superficial aspect of life. Phone calls and text messages with Amanda were a nice change but it’s not the same as waking up next to someone you love every morning. I knew that would be nice and that possibility had seemed very real with Elsa but then, poof, it was gone. Janice had invited me to Thanksgiving dinner and I’d turned her down, like I turned down every other invitation. Was she just being nice or was there something more? All of our previous conversations made it seem like she had an interest and that it was growing. For someone pretty in-tune with others, I wondered how I had missed that. Or maybe I hadn’t missed it but wasn’t ready to welcome it. I really didn’t want to blow it and miss an opportunity but I didn’t want the disappointment that a failed relationship would bring either. Knots. I was mad at myself for letting the situation develop the way it had but it couldn’t be helped. It distracted me all day and I know my kids knew it.

When the last bell rang and the kids left for the weekend, I took a deep breath and tried to settle myself. I pulled out my lesson plan for the following week but couldn’t concentrate on it. I had twenty minutes until our appointment. Except I didn’t. I heard a knock at the door and Janice pushed it open a couple of inches.

“I’m a bit early. I hope that’s okay. Or, I can wait. I just wanted you to know I’m here.”

She started to let the door close but I hollered out to her. “Please, come in,” and she did. It had been an unseasonably warm December day and she had on a zip-up windbreaker rather than a bulky coat.

I quickly shoved the papers I’d been ready to start on into a pile and set them aside. I watched a she took off her windbreaker as she stepped in. I had met Elsa exactly like this and a strong sense of déjà vu washed over me and I didn’t like it. Don’t project, I told myself and I shook off the feeling.

Elsa had shown up on a rainy day and was a beautiful, disheveled mess. Janice, in sharp contrast, didn’t have a single hair out of place. Something about the contrast allowed me to forget abut Elsa and focus on Janice. She had a fair complexion, without blemish and just a hint of summer tan remaining. Her fine blonde hair had a gentle wave that looked natural but I thought must have taken a lot of work to tame. Without a bulky coat, I could tell the Bahamas snorkeling picture wasn’t the angle of the shot or the lighting. It was not difficult to imagine her in that bikini. She looked good. She looked really good. She’d be near the top of anyone’s scale.

Plus, she was early. That, and she came to our conference without even asking what it was about. I’d had moms show up angry, late, and in sweats before. I’d studied body language for ten years and knew what to look for. Janice was definitely sending out the right vibes, some subtle and some pretty blatant and all of them positive. How many had I missed before that afternoon? I cursed myself.

I rose from my desk and walked to meet her, shake her hand, take her windbreaker and hold a chair for her at a small table in the back. She had a firm, dry handshake and a pleasant smile and seemed genuinely happy to see me. I caught the faint scent of perfume that I liked, Jasmine perhaps. I have expectations of relationships with parents based on the relationship I have with their child. Marcia was a good kid and I had told Marcia that, regularly. Telling kids how well they’re doing is far more important than telling them when they mess up. They already know when they’ve messed up. Perhaps Marcia had said kind things about me.

Janice started, “So, how is Marcia doing?”

This was where my conference agenda fell apart. I had nothing to talk about. “Marcia is doing fine. She’s one of my most prepared and attentive students. She has a quick wit and a quicker sense of humor. She doesn’t easily take offense and I’ve never heard her say an unkind word about others. She might think them but doesn’t say them. She shows self-restraint. I’d love to have a classroom full of students like Marcia. It would make my job a lot easier,” I stated with a smile. It was my winning smile. That was it. I was done. “I could have told you all that at the car line and you wouldn’t have been surprised.”

“No. Not in the least.” She shifted in her seat and brushed her hair away from her neck. That was a not so subtle cue, obvious to even a beginning body language student. Showing her neck by moving her hair out of the way, subconsciously demonstrated vulnerability and is frequently a precursor to a more intimate relationship. At the very least, it’s an invitation to explore a closer relationship.

“I didn’t really ask you here to talk about Marcia,” I said and she gave me a ‘do tell’ expression. “What I really wanted was to thank you for the invitation for Thanksgiving dinner and tell you how much I wished I could have gone. I had guests that needed some of my problem-solving skills,” I said and paused. “They’re gone now. So, having missed my chance a week ago, I thought I might offer you dinner,” I said with my most charming smile.

“Really?” She seemed pleasantly surprised. “I would like that.” She paused to think a minute and then looked at me seriously and said, “I’m flattered. It’s been ... Oh, I don’t know ... Sorry. Just thinking out loud. I do that when I don’t know what to say.”

I guessed where her mind had gone and I tried to put her at ease. “Marcia told me what happened. About your late husband. She didn’t provide a lot of details and I don’t want to read too much into the invitation. But I don’t want to read too little into it either.” I waited a moment and watched her as she looked down at her hands. “It’s hard,” I said.

She looked up from her hands and engaged me with wonderful green eyes. “It is hard.”

“I’m not him. I’m not Don. But I do know some very good restaurants. You should say ‘yes’.”

Her face softened. “Yes. That would be nice.” She breathed a sigh of relief and paused a moment to collect her thoughts. “Can I tell you something. Do you know how hard it was to get the courage to invite you for Thanksgiving dinner?”

“And I refused the offer. I’m so sorry. I truly am. But I’m anxious to reward your courage if you’ll let me.” It was a really tender start of a much longer conversation and she was wrestling with her emotions. Every word was spoken with lots of thought behind it.

“When,” she asked and seemed to relax with the question. A question with the fewest words possible.

“Tonight? Is that too early?”

“No. Not at all,” she said and then realized how eager she had sounded. She also seemed pleased that I would suggest dinner so soon. “That sounded pretty eager, didn’t it? Marcia’s actually staying at a friend’s house tonight and I have no dinner plans at all. Leftovers, probably.”

“Outstanding. I think we can top leftovers. How does Edmund’s Oast sound?” She was looking back down at her hands and her shoulders shook a little. I thought I knew why but I didn’t really know what to do about it. Finally, I reached out and touched her hands gently and she gave them to me and looked up at me with those green eyes again. I loved those eyes.

“I haven’t been out with anyone,” she paused a long moment and continued, “I don’t even know how to talk with a man. I haven’t been on a date with anyone but Don in fifteen years. Sixteen. I don’t even know how to feel about it. I’m sorry. I must seem a mess. If I seem clumsy it’s just that...”

“Not at all,” I said and stood, gently lifted her hands. She stood and looked at me curiously. I knew what she wanted and I hoped it didn’t come off wrong. “I understand. At least I think I do. Can I ... would it seem...”

She seemed to know what I was thinking and she definitely knew what she needed and I pulled her to me and hugged her. I felt like so many things were working in circles. Tiffany had needed a hug and I gave her one and she seemed appreciative. I was hoping Janice would feel the same. I certainly felt a bit like the protective male.

She surprised me by putting her arms around me and holding me lightly. I held her securely. She was only about 5’4” and after spending the weekend with tall teens, she seemed almost tiny.

Her hold increased ever so slightly as she lay her head against my shoulder. “This is so...”

I tried to finish her sentence for her, “Awkward?”

“No ... no. Not to me.” She paused to look for the right word and when she found it, she looked up at me. “Welcome,” she said, smiling. “Really. Very welcome.” She let go and sat back down before it could get awkward. “A widow at twenty-nine. Who prepares for that?”

“No one does.” We sat back down. “It takes a lot of courage to step out of your comfort zone like this, doesn’t it?”

“You have no idea. You have no idea. Thank you.”

“For...”

“Holding me. Just holding me. God, I miss that so much. You’re sweet.”

“I might have a little more holding in me if it ever comes in handy,” I offered. “Do you need to do anything before dinner? It’s early but I have an idea.”

“Am I dressed for it? I’ve never been to Edmund’s Oast. Friends have and said they liked it but I don’t want to be the underdressed person.”

“You’re fine. It’s casual.” I stood and took her hands again. “What are we waiting for?”

She stood and smiled and looked at me with a question on her face. “Do you think ... would it be okay...” I pulled her back to me and hugged her again and she quickly settled into it. I simply held her and let her make up for lost time.

“This is nice. You must think I’m, I don’t know, clingy, maybe.” Finally, she drew back and sniffed. “I must look a mess. I have to fix my mascara. I can’t believe I just did that.” She dabbed at her eyes.

“Clingy is actually one of my favorite traits in a woman.” She smiled. I was doing my best to make it easy for her. Let’s make a deal. We go to dinner, we have a nice meal, maybe a drink or two, we talk, and neither of us has to give any apologies or explanations. We don’t worry about tomorrow or the next day. Just dinner and some conversation. How does that sound?”

“That’s a deal,” she answered with a very relieved smile.

I took a look around the room finding nothing out of place, grabbed my own light jacket and escorted her to the parking lot and my car. She took a look at my car, then me, with a skeptical smile I’d seen many times before.

“I know how to indulge myself. I like me,” I said, giving her my hand so she could ease down into the passenger seat. My car is very low. I pulled the seatbelt forward so she could grab it and then closed the door.

“Wow,” I thought to myself. How could I have not done this before. Talk about vulnerable. Don’t blow it, Danny boy. Don’t blow it.

I eased in and started it up. “The seat is pretty far back. My last passenger was actually taller than me. If you want to adjust it forward, there’s a lever under the seat.”

“I think I’ll have to if I want to see out.” She slid forward and settled in, her eyes exploring my car. “I’ve wondered whose car this was, sitting in the parking lot. I should have known. This is a very manly car, you know. It rumbles and it looks beautifully aggressive. Does that seem right?”

“A reflection of my persona, don’t you think?”

“Ha. That’s why you bought this? To reflect your persona,” she asked, enjoying the lighter conversation.