I am writing.
I haven’t been able to really say that for a while. My head has been far too full of other things. It seems that we (Gene and I) are getting closer to whatever ‘normal’ will be for us for a while and I started writing. At 4:00 this morning I woke up and as hard as I tried to go back to sleep, Tate pulled harder for me to come and write.
He said I could share some of this with you – remember that we (Tate and I) are in the early stages of our relationship – still learning each other and where we are going. 🙂
Just a little tease. (If you are one of Andy’s Angels, you saw a different tease a while back).
I couldn’t get her story out of my head. It broke my heart every time I thought about her. Two very anxious weeks passed and finally, Deirdre my assistant told me my suits were ready to pick up.
“I’ll go get them,” I told her.
“Are you sure? I’d be happy to take care of that,” she said. “It’s kind of my job.”
“I got this. I’ve got an errand to run on the way, so I’ll take care of it.”
I stopped by a florist on the way and picked up a deep blue vase, filled with white carnations. The blue reminded me of her eyes. The white flowers made me think of her skin. What I could see was pale and flawless. I wanted to know this woman. She was alone when I arrived.
“Are those for Dion?” she asked when she saw the flowers.
I laughed out loud at her comment. “He is kinda pretty, for a boy, but I’m not his type.”
“You sure?” she asked.
“Pretty sure,” I said, and handed her the flowers. I leaned closer and whispered, “I like girls.”
“Your tux and suits are pressed and ready. They’re hanging in that garment bag.”
“Listen,” I said. “It’s late, grab a quick bite to eat with me. Let me show you I’m a good guy.”
“Great!” I shouted.
“No. No. Uh…” she stammered. “I meant ‘sure’ you’re a good guy, not ‘sure’ to dinner. I really can’t…”
“Yes. You can. Forty minutes, an hour tops. Look, I’m not going to take no for an answer. It’s dinner, Maisie.”
“Just dinner,” she said, but I felt the hesitation.
“I need an hour to finish up, I’ll meet you…”
“Nope. I’ll wait. You’ll ride with me and I’ll bring you back here when we’re done.”
“I won’t go,” she said in an indignant voice.
“An hour, Maisie,” I said.
She turned her back to me. She said nothing, but her body language spoke volumes. Her shoulders dropped as though she’d been defeated, and it broke my heart. She went to her work area to tidy up, placing the vase of flowers by her sewing machine, and it made me smile.
She turned the light off and said, “I’ll drive. You can ride with me – that way I can leave when I’m ready.”