There was this girl.

The first time I saw her at the store, she smiled at me. I notice these things. Being a lonely guy and super leery of anything wearing a skirt, I notice.

The second time, she helped me check out in the self-service lane, and I really noticed her. She was gorgeous. She was friendly. She was not wearing a ring. I made a point to thank her, letting her know I was new to this part of town, and really appreciated her help. She went so far as to say she hoped she saw me there again. Of course, I took it to mean she wanted to see me, Charlie, there again, not just see the customer sticking his credit card in the reader there again. I’m a single man. Of course, that’s how I took it.

The third time, she smiled first, then I smiled back, and when she approached, I just asked her what time she got off and if I could take her to dinner.

“Diving right in, are we?”

“Yes, I guess I we are. I’m not good at this, Debbie. I never have been anyway.”

“You’re doing fine now, ummm. I have a nametag, sir. You don’t.”

“Charlie. Just call me Charlie, for now.”

“OK, Charlie. You’re doing fine now. Five. I get off at five, and I’d love to. You seem like a nice guy. Wuups, I need to help that lady over there. She’s trying to put her shopper card in the credit card slot instead of scanning it. I’ll see you this evening? Here? I walk to work, so it makes sense to me if it’s OK with you.”

“Perfect sense. See you fivish.” I tried to tone my smile down, but it was hard. She said yes. Where I got the nerve to ask this doll out, I’ll never know, but it happened.

I’ve been skittish and untrusting of women since I came home a few days early from a long overseas mission and found my former fiancée in bed with another man.

Going through that memory had me almost shaking with fear. An hour until I do the same thing again. An hour until I think about letting a woman into my life. Maybe a girl would be more like it. Maybe she’ll be a better person. More honest. More ... Loyal?

I picked her up, Debbie, on the sidewalk out in front of Safeway. She was in her black shirt, skirt, and Keds. She looked just fine for a casual dinner out and I told her that. I also told her how gorgeous she was as she took her nametag off.

“Thanks, Charlie. That’s sweet. You look a bit nervous. Please don’t be. I’m just a girl. No reason to be frightened.”

My mind went back to that day. I didn’t want to, but...

My first thought was to unload my trusty forty-five into both of them, but then I thought. ‘You know, Charlie, this guy just did you a favor.’ He was shocked when I said, ‘Thank you’, and quite calmly asked him to please get dressed and leave. She was shocked when I told him to grab as much of her stuff as he could carry from the closet and take her with him. I think I was quite rude when I mentioned her life expectancy not being very long if she didn’t leave out the front door before him, but I didn’t really care at that point.

I told him I’d ship the rest, everything that she had at my place, to him when I calmed down. “Just leave your address on the table on the way out,” I told him. I never said a word to her. I didn’t hear a word she said either. It just sounded like squeaking, so I blocked it out. I never let her eyes meet with mine. I saw the tears, her tears, when I glanced at her to make sure she was getting dressed to leave, but they didn’t affect me. Mine did, my tears, naturally, but...

In any case, as soon as they pulled away, I took the sheets from the bed, fairly new, luxurious, 600 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, out to the little picnic area and burned them in the fire ring. I toasted their demise with some American Honey and washed it down with a Coors Light.

I put her personal things into a clothes basket she brought over once with her laundry, stacked as much clothing as I could on top of it and put it on the guestroom bed. I put everything of hers I could find in there, then closed the door. I even rummaged through the fridge and dumped her wine out. The next day, with a bit of a hangover, admittedly, I took her stuff to the Fedex Office store. They found a box big enough to hold the basket and all her stuff, stuck down in the sides and on top, then mailed it to his apartment, less than two miles, and yet an eternity, away.

“Did you know him?” Debbie asked.

“Yeah. He was my copilot for a while until a year or so ago. He got promoted and got his own crew and was assigned to a new squadron a couple of months prior to ... I hadn’t spent much time with him since. We weren’t close or anything. Different lifestyles. Yeah, I knew him.”

“Jesus, Charlie, I’m sorry that happened.”

“No, Debbie, I’m sorry. I must have been thinking out loud. It’s been well over ten or so months now, and I should get over it. I’m sorry I just spent five minutes of my life, and worse yet, five minutes of your life, rehashing the worst day of my meager existence, to date, and I’ve lost an airplane out from under me. That night, the airplane thing, was a piece of cake compared to the day I walked in on them.”

“Well, it’s good to talk about things sometimes. And now I know why you’re so nervous. Don’t be. I’m not that kind of girl, at least I don’t think so. God, I hope I’m not. Talk about a failure to be a decent human being! In any case, it’s just us, and dinner, and good conversation, hopefully at least, now that that part of it is out of the way. So, Charlie, I take it you’re an airplane pilot?”

“You are a very astute young woman, Debbie. Cute and astute. That rhymes. For you to pick up on that, out of that conversation, or should I say diatribe I regurgitated, proves you know what a pilot, and as well, what an airplane is.”

She giggled and nodded. “My father was in the Air Force, Charlie. I’ve seen lots and lots of airplanes, and more than one pilot. He was a cop. Security. Whatever. He retired a few years ago and last year found some property and moved to the rolling hills of the Ozark Mountains. I stayed. I like it here. I’m taking classes part time.”

“So, you’re a brat.”

“I resemble that remark, Charlie!” She giggled. “Come. Feed me. You told me you would. At least that’s what I thought I heard.” She giggled. We pulled up into the Olive Garden parking lot and went inside. They were a bit busy but there were tables open in the bar area, so we asked for one of those.

Two hours later, still at that table, talking over a tiramisu, I had a funny feeling that Debbie was going to be around for a while. She seemed just as interested in my life as I was in hers, and we seemed to fit. Fit? Yeah, that would be a good word in this case. I felt that we fit together.

One thing she stressed was her schedule. It was rather tough. Tuesday through Thursday she had evening classes. She was off on Sundays and Mondays from the store. She was a full-time employee working straight day shifts unless some drastic problem happened with scheduling, but they never, ever, asked her to work on her school nights. Management, she said, was pro education, even providing a bit of scholarship money, helping her father with her tuition and such.

Interesting life. It was Friday night. She was working the next day.

“Debbie, would you take me to a movie tomorrow night? I’ll pay, I just want you to pick the movie, then we’ll grab a snack somewhere and talk about the cinematic arts.”

She giggled. “Sure. I’ll find something. Anything you don’t like?”

“Horror and gratuitous blood and guts. Gratuitous sex gets old after a while, too, but I can tolerate a small amount for a short while.”

Another giggle. “Define gratuitous.” I scowled at her, then smiled. “OK, so, no King and no Tarantino. Got it. I’ll take care of it.”

I drove us to her apartment, just across the street from the store. Nice little complex. I walked her to the door, she opened it and kissed me. One hand on my cheek, soft lips on mine, just a nice kiss.

“Thank you, Charlie. I had a good time tonight, and I’m looking forward to the movie, and whatever else we do, tomorrow. Please don’t be nervous. I’m not someone you should be nervous about, and as a matter of fact, it should be me that’s nervous. I’m young, inexperienced, and question my value to a man such as yourself. You are not young, you are not inexperienced, and you are both handsome and gainfully employed. If you didn’t know, those are the primary qualities a woman seeks in a man. Girls, too, in case you’re wondering.” She giggled.

She touched my face again as I smiled at her mirth. “Just to make myself clear, before I kiss you again, push you away from me, and go inside, Charlie, you’re a hunk.” She giggled again, kissed me, put her hand on my chest in some sort of caress, and stepped back into what appeared to be a really cute little studio apartment. She smiled at me as the door closed and the deadbolt locked.

“Wow,” I said to anyone listening, and there was no one, “a freaking beauty queen eligible girl just called me a hunk.” I drove back to my place, thinking how nice my life was all of a sudden.

I picked her up at five, out on the sidewalk, cute as could be. She asked me to take her over across the street and said she’d be just a second. I waited in the car as she ran up the stairs and went inside. It was many, many seconds, but not many minutes later when she came back down, in a cute T-top, cuffed short shorts, and high heeled sandals. Her legs were something else. I jumped out and went to the other side to let her back in.

“Jeez, Debbie. You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful in your work clothes. In this outfit you’re ... You’re just totally gorgeous.”

“Thank you, Charlie. I’m glad you like it. Ready?” I nodded as she got in, then I went around to the other side and as I sat, she continued. “The Citadel has a couple of good ones playing starting in about half an hour. Thank you for this, by the way.”

“My pleasure. Honestly, it is truly my pleasure.”

“I have to say, Charlie, this is about the least practical car I’ve ever seen anyone own. What is it?”

“It’s called a Cayman. It’s a cheap Porsche. I treated myself to it when I knew I’d be single for a while. I love it, but you’re right. It’s not practical. I didn’t buy it for practicality, however. I have a truck for that. We’ll use it if I can talk you into a third date.”

“Warm it up, hunk. I’m not done with you yet, if you aren’t done with me.”

“The truck it is!”

“I like this, though, don’t get me wrong. It’s fun and comfortable, and I can tell you enjoy driving it.”

“That, my dear, is a fact.” I took off from a light and ran through the gears, just up to about forty-five, the speed limit, but smiling as I did it. “Yessiree, that is a fact.” She giggled. God, she was cute.

The movie was fun, we had sodas and shared a large bucket of heavily buttered popcorn, then afterwards, we walked the mall. She took my hand just a little way into the walk and looked up at me for approval. She got it as I squeezed her fingers gently and smiled. We stopped in a couple of stores to look around, but I could tell she was window shopping only. She picked a blouse she liked off a rack, held it up to her and with her eyes asked what I thought.

“Beautiful. Simply you, and beautiful. Would you like it? I’d like you to have it.”

“No, that’s all right. It’s nice, but I’m just looking.” I took it from her to hang back up, and noted the size on the label, since she picked it out between other sizes. I would buy her that blouse. Period.

We stopped in at RadioShack where I found some inexpensive Bluetooth headsets. I’d been thinking about trying some anyway, but I needed a bag big enough for my planned purchase. My timing was perfect, because she asked me to excuse her while she went to the ladies’ and as soon as she was around the corner, I headed back in and bought the blouse, placing it, in its little bag, inside my RadioShack bag. I made it back in time so that she didn’t see me doing anything other than gazing in the window. The same store had some lingerie on mannequins in the window, so it was perfectly natural for me, a dirty old man, to be scoping out the nylon and lace. She smiled and took my hand.

We continued our walk, shared some pretzel bites and made a plan for the next weekend. Dinner and a movie after work on Saturday. She asked about the next day, Sunday, just hours away, and wanted to know if I liked sightseeing in the foothills. She asked if I’d take her up and do just that. Just walk around. She ... asked me? Of course, we could!

I took her home, up the stairs, and kissed her goodnight, with her hand on my chest, this time with her fingers moving, no question she was caressing me. Once she was inside, I got my smile on and left.

I picked her up at noon, in the truck, having to help her up. She was not a big girl, at all. She used the hand hold though, and was fine. We headed for the foothills and all the tourist traps, having a really good time. We ate a late lunch or early dinner at a really nice place there, sharing an appetizer and talking.

“Is it possible, in your mind, Charlie, for someone to become ... To feel ... Shit ... To fall in love in three days?”

“Or less? I did it just yesterday. Don’t, please, Debbie, please don’t take this wrong, but yesterday, you sort of stole my heart when you came downstairs. You were gorgeous. You are gorgeous. I added that to your kindness, your wonderful attitude, the fact that you think my Porsche is a silly toy, and put it all together, with my heart pounding, I pretty much knew. Debbie, I was engaged for months and didn’t feel like this. Yes, I think it’s possible.”

“Good. I thought I was being a silly little girl. If you feel that way, I doubt if it can be attributed to that. Maybe I’m being a silly old man.” She almost didn’t get it all out before she started laughing. I got up, went to her side of the table, leaned down and kissed her. More of Charlie and Debbie in this kiss than the goodnight kisses of the last two evenings. “Yep. I think I’m in love,” she said, smiling.

I took her home, got another really nice kiss, and told her I’d talk to her very soon.

“Please do. Are you working tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Office time. Paperwork is the scourge of the modern world.”

She giggled. “Me, too. Final edition of an essay on Gender Fluidity. Women’s studies. We have to take it to graduate, but they call it an elective. I see a problem there, but don’t really know how to handle it. I guess it’s not that bad, just a pain and a form of blackmail, in my eyes. Not the gender thing. That’s interesting. The women’s studies thing. It’s a rip off. They could just write ‘housewives are stupid slaves’ on the chalk board, tell everyone to write a hundred words agreeing with it for credit or disagree with it for a failure, and be done with it.”