Chapter 1

I run a small mail order business through mostly ebay, and few other sites. My most lucrative items are sneakers that I sell to mostly Russian Federation countries and South Korea. They are US made and I get good prices on quantities and sell them for 4 or 5 times my cost. In the market I am one of the most least expensive dealers so my gouging doesn’t bother me. I sell much more than sneakers, like CD’s, music boxes, radios, and phones.

For years the Post Office would send a truck, already on his way to the airport to retrieve Express Mail, to pick up my international shipments at noon. It turns out, Eppley Airport in Omaha is a great link in the international mail chain, with most of my stuff getting to the Seattle distribution point (THE international hub for that side of the world) before 6 o’clock each day. Suddenly, and with no reason given, I was told they would no longer pick me up at noon, and the truck would come at 5 in the evening and bring things to the main Omaha Post Office for distribution. I had become friends with the driver and he told me he STILL went to the airport each day after he picked up the 2 large business boxes near a local office complex at 12:15. If I met him there he could still take my stuff, but he warned me that the box said “12:15 pickup” and he drove away precisely at 12:15. So in our perfectly timed electronic world, I was there at 12:15 to meet him (by our Apple watches).

The intersection before the box rendezvous point is a 4 way stop, first in / first out crossing. On 4 out of 5, and usually 5 of 5 days a week I met the same car at the intersection, a pretty lady I knew from the local grocery store, across from the mail boxes in question. She would smile, and I would wave her through ahead of me, she always waved and laughed as she turned in front of me. She had to be to work for 12:30 and arrived just after 12:15 to get ready for her shift. The way we met at the intersection each day was uncanny and not planned or orchestrated. Mid-days this was not a busy road.

As time went by I would nod to her and smile if I saw her in the store and after a few weeks of that she approached me one day.

“I just realized you were the nice gentleman who waves me through the intersection every day. Amazing how we always get there at the same time.”

I explained the 12:15 sharp situation and it somewhat explained our meeting.

From that point on I always flirted a little with her, either at the corner, where I would spread out my arm as if to show her the way through, or I would tip my ever present ball cap. In the store, she usually worked the service desk, where she would motion me over if I just had one or two items. Once I went through with a six pack and a bag of shrimp and she commented, “Wow, that’s simple enough to make a party.”

“It IS a party! Come on over.” I responded and she laughed.

I made eye contact with her as she laughed and I saw something in her face that made me think she wanted something else.

I kept my eyes directly on hers and said, “Your happy and smiling face would always be welcome at any party I had, whether with 10 people or just you.”

I wasn’t sure if I crossed a line, or broke the ice off an uneasy flirt attempt.

She sort of looked behind me uncomfortably and said, “Who knows, maybe someday.”

Just then, another customer stepped up to the counter and our brief interlude was through. But, as I walked out the door, I looked back and she was watching me.

Now, I never checked her hand for a ring, and if she checked mine, I don’t have a ring or a wife, anymore. We split long ago, I made the mistake of marrying a good friend, and when we added sex, money commitments, and pregnancy, we found out we were just friends, not lovers. She lost the baby at 4 months and as soon as she recovered physically and mentally, 3 more months, she told me she couldn’t handle our situation anymore. She asked me to file for divorce and she would not contest it. It was a quick and easy break, like snapping a frozen Hershey Bar in half, and she was gone. We couldn’t find it in our hearts to hurt each other. Since then, I run around a little, date one of my neighbors from time to time, sort of friends with benefits, but only a few times a year. I’ve hooked on with online dating sites twice, ended up having sex in the first date or so with each, and moved on. Not my thing to just satisfy desperate souls, like myself. I mean, you write, or read, how you want a relationship, what you look for in your partner, but when you meet up, it’s just to hook-up and fuck. I can go to a bar or club and get that easily enough.

A few weeks went by since our exchange at the service counter, but I did see her and wave, exchanged smiles, etc., at the intersection every day except one, when I was late for the mail truck. I was going to my sisters for dinner, one of her kid’s birthdays, and she called last minute for me to pick up whipping cream. As I looked for an express lane she got my attention and motioned me over.

Our eye flirt was more obvious to each of us and I asked her, giving into curiosity, “Why do you always have you name tag turned so I can’t see your name?”

“It’s not turned, I have it covered, too many creeps want to be “my friend”. So, it’s this way. Actually not covered just written in the same color as the background. I don’t know YOUR name either.”

Ever the flirty wise-ass I said, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

She blushed deeply and took my whipping cream and scanned it and said, “$3.47”.

I handed her a five and said, “Roger, Roger Dustin. Sorry if I said something stupid.” (Also I saw no ring, or shadow of)

“It’s OK, I was going to say it to you, that’s all. I’m Jenna, not short for anything Jenna” she said as she handed me the change.

“Thank You, “not short for anything Jenna”. I really have to run, but I hope we can talk soon.”

“Take care and have good rest of your day.” She said as I hustled out of the store.

On the 20 minute drive to my sister’s place I began to sort of imagine a relationship with Jenna. We were both smart-asses, both happy-go-lucky with seeming positive outlooks. I guessed her age at 28-30, and I was 38, but, I really didn’t think I looked it at all. I was sure it wasn’t just my horns riling up, she was cute, real cute when she smiled, but not a raving beauty in the high cheekbone, pouty lips, sort of way. She appeared to have a thinner type figure, not busty, but curvy in the hips. She probably filled a pair of jeans nicely, not that any of that really mattered, as long as I thought of her as a nice person. My ex-wife was chunky, always was, and looked Rubenesque in the nude, but clothed she was nothing to drive you crazy. When we first started having sex it was exciting as hell, but we got a little bored shortly after our honeymoon. Physically, she DID excite me, but when you added the whole psyche of how we got together, something got lost. I wasn’t looking for a receptacle for my seed and jollys, I was truly looking for someone I could love and relate to, and that was it, I didn’t “relate” to my ex. We were friends at a level that didn’t translate to “love”. Hard to explain, but if any woman made me feel she “might” fill the bill I wanted, but wasn’t currently seeking on a regular basis, (my life was happy) Jenna was a start. By the time I got to my sisters, I was sure I would ask Jenna out for a cup of coffee, a lunch, or maybe a movie.

The next few days were cat and mouse as usual with my not wanting to appear too anxious, just interested. Then one day when I didn’t meet her at the intersection, she pulled up as I was off-loading my foreign packages to the USPS driver. When I finished I turned to her, in her car, and asked, “May I help you, young lady?”

“Yes, you can, my fine gentleman. You said if I showed you mine, you would show me yours.” She said as she held out her driver’s license for me to see, with her picture, name and birth date on it, adding “I’m single, never married and not currently in any sort of relationship, not even an old one to pine over. I’m shy and you make me feel sort of brave because no one would believe what I’ve said to you in the past, or what I’ve done today. Please let this be your opening to ask me on a date when and if you feel so inclined.”

She put her little station wagon in gear and drove off to work, as usual.

Well, there it was, SHE made the first move and put the ball squarely in my court. If I was to act, I had the opening. No more wondering if I was reading something into nothing, over reacting or under reacting.

I drove the local Wendy’s and got a Frosty, spooning it slowly in my car, digesting her words and action. The one o’clock news came on the radio and I woke out of my reverie and drove to the grocery store, with my short shopping list of eggs, bacon, and Jenna.

I got my few things and instead of waiting to be called to the service desk line, I went right to it, with Jenna standing there smiling.

She rang my stuff right through and looked up to me. I said, “Carter Lake House (local bar and restaurant) has 33 cent wings and a band tonight. Would you like to grab a bite and hear some music?”

She thought for a moment and said, “A Thursday night, huh? Are we going to dance too?” She paused and looked at me with a squint and said, “Real men dance.”

“Real men do a lot of things to make their dates happy.” I said before I could pull the words back.

She rolled her eyes and asked, “You sure you’re that guy? Don’t apologize, I think it’s cute. You’re definitely a little more worldly than I.”

“Worldly?” I asked.

“You’ve been around the block more than me, and made a few more stops along the way.” She said as almost a tsk-tsk.

“You could profit from that.” I said, again wishing I could pull back the words.

She dropped her eyes and seemed fearful, suddenly, saying, “Maybe going out on a work night isn’t good. Another time, OK.”

“We’ll see, then. Maybe I’ll find a dance partner there anyway. Have a great night Jenna.” I said, sorry I opened my big mouth with wise-ass comments.

I took my eggs, bacon, and receipt, without a bag and turned on my heel to head to my car. I still planned on going to the Carter Lake House, but probably would just eat some wings, have a couple beers and listen to the band a bit. As usual, I would be home by 10 or so.

I backed from my spot and pulled to the head of the lot. Pedestrians have the right of way in Nebraska and you watch for them closely, they boldly step off in front of you. One such pedestrian stepped off in front of me and another car coming from the right as we both stopped. It was Jenna. She came to my window and made a motion for me to roll it down.

“I addressed you as a “fine gentleman” earlier today, and I’ll stick to my judgement of you as so. Please don’t disappoint me. Men have been a mystery to me. I spent a lot of years meeting the wrong ones and I’d given up seeking and you came in and made me think there was hope. I’ve figured all men are assholes, don’t make me right. What time do you want to pick me up? I get off at 6.”

“How about 7? What’s your address?”

“2600 Dodge Street in Griffin Park. Do you know where that is? It’s a one story house, green with white shutters.”

“I’ve probably driven by a bunch of times. See you at 7.”

“Don’t come to the door, just blow the horn, OK?”

“As you wish.” I said, and she walked back to the store.

What changed her mind, I don’t know. I secretly hoped the thought of me possibly meeting someone else and having a good time bothered her for missing a chance. In any event, at 7 o’clock I blew my horn in front of her house and she came out in a fashion tee and tight hip-hugging jeans. She may not have been super-model material, but she certainly knew how to present what she had. She looked awesome and right away I knew I would be the envy of other men when I walked in Carter Lake House tonight.

I got out and opened her door for her while she tried to wave me off, but my Mother raised me to respect women, and especially a woman I was dating. I always opened doors, held chairs, helped her with her coat, etc. If a woman ever had a problem with being treated like that, I probably would not see her again. It’s just how I was.

“I’m glad you changed your mind about coming tonight.” I said to open the conversation, adding, “You look quite beautiful outside of your work smock and pants.”

“Those uniforms, the smock and matching pants are not too stylish, but the money we save on work clothes is appreciated. Thank you for the compliment, I wanted to look nice for you.” She said quietly in a tone that said she was still testing me.

“Have you ever been there before?”

“No, heard some of the girls at work talk about it. I would never go alone and I don’t date much anymore.” She said.

“That’s too bad, you should enjoy yourself more often.” I threw in.

“Men have shown me to be shallow, possessive, and lecherous. I’ve given more than one a chance to prove otherwise, and always been sorry. Please don’t take that the wrong way, I’m not condemning you, it’s just been my experience.” She said as a person fed up with a repeating situation.

The drive to Carter Lake House was short and we parked in a newly opened spot near the front door. After turning the car off, before I moved to get out, I reached for her hand.

“Jenna, I didn’t ask you out for any other reason than to have a good time, and show a good time to someone I think can be special to me. I hope you feel the same way. Now, I know I’m not shallow, I’m pretty common sense, I’m not possessive, why would I want to be with someone who didn’t want to be with me, and I’m not lecherous. Yes, I have the same desires of most men, and women, for that matter. The fact we exist says that desires have been fulfilled in our parents past. I would never make any sort of move that I didn’t feel was wanted or welcome. I would never remain in a relationship for the sole purpose of personal gratification. If this is our only foray into dating, that’s fine, at least we tried. I only ask you don’t judge me by others you’ve been with.”

My words brought a little tear to her eye as she nodded and whispered, “fair enough.” Before I got out and opened her door and escorted her into the building.

We each got beers to go with our wings and had a nice conversation about our lives, our families, and what we do. After the 1st dozen wings were finished, I offered to get more, but she passed saying she was fine with the 6 she had, as was I. The waitress asked if we were having the house cheesecake for dessert and I asked for a slice, with 2 forks, telling Jenna it was filling. She smiled and nodded.

We finished our meal as the band began to set up. Our table was such, I only needed to move my chair to the side and we both faced the band.

“What sort of music do you like?” I asked.

“Mostly what I grew up with, formative years, what they call classic rock now.” She said as I nodded and agreed, naming off band names I liked as she nodded back to me with each mention.

She knew some things about musicians, instruments, and music, which I found delightful as they matched my own interests. Once they set up and began playing “Tequila Sunrise”, an easy going warm up, we were both into the band and enjoying the music.

“So,” I asked, “Do you play? Are you a musician?”

“No, just an interest of mine, I guess.” She said uneasily, like she had just told me the biggest lie in the world.

I didn’t pursue the point any further but she seemed to suddenly tense, wrenching her hands, like I broached some subject I should have avoided.

“Jenna, in what little I know of you, the fact you are always so pleasant rings the loudest and suddenly you seem so troubled. Did I say or do something stupid? I know my smartass mouth has gotten me in trouble earlier.”

She seemed to get a little weird on me, uneasy with her eyes darting all around and then suddenly she seemed to steel herself and she sat up and leaned toward me as if to say something very private.

“Many of the asshole men I’ve known in my life, the ones I’m using to paint my impression of you, were musicians, guys in bands. What they do on the band stand is magic to me, I love music and admire the people who make it. The guys I’ve been with were hurtful, dependent on some pill, or pot, or booze, and abusive mentally. Not so much players like these, I was with touring musicians, guys who considered themselves rock stars, I guess.”

“I hate to think of you being treated so poorly. I...”

“Please let me explain something before you make impressions of me. Who I am now is who I always envisioned myself, pleasant simple and happy go lucky, but I would be married and happy. I met a name musician and we were rolling along until he got too, uh ... famous, I guess. Things changed and eventually we broke up and I caught on with another guy and things snowballed and after a couple years of riding busses, flying in rattletrap planes, being shit on, I gave it all up, came here (Nebraska) and I’m happy, and I’m sorry if I’m so distrustful of men. You’ve been nothing but sweet to me and I actually find your little attempts at humor, double entendre, and that, to be amusing, but I’m a little afraid, or defensive of myself. I hope I’m making sense to you.”

I took her hand and looked into her eyes so she would know I was going to be as sincere as I could hope she might take me.

“I am nothing but respectful to you and you have made me nothing but happy and hopeful for us. I don’t really care about your past relationships, I know you from our day one. Please don’t color me like your previous relationships. Let’s just be honest with each other, whether this is our only date, or if we develop into more. I just think we click together.”

She smiled broadly and took my hand. “I really shouldn’t be ashamed of my past because I went into everything with my eyes wide open, and ignored the signs that things were going wrong. I’m happy that you take me at par, so to speak. You make me smile and if you knew how little I smiled and laughed before, um ... after the first two days of meeting you at the intersection, just through the windshield of our cars, the way you smiled and waved, I knew you were special.”