“Bobby is right; you can do anything.” She looked up at me and smiled as she gripped my upper arm. I blushed and looked down.
“Is 9 AM too early to come over tomorrow?”
“Not at all. How about I fix breakfast for you? I make a great western omelet.”
“Great, I need to pick up some odds and ends that I’ll need, so 9:00 it is.”
Then an uneasy silence took over our conversation, so instead of talking to Betty, I took the chickens’ way out and stood up.
“I guess I’d better get home so I can wake up early. Good night.” Smooth, if our ancestors used lines like that, the human race would have died out.
‘Smooth, doofus, we need to teach you how to talk with a woman.’
I need to find that list of therapists.
***
Woken up by my alarm clock at 6:00, I realized I had slept seven hours straight, and the thought of going to see Betty had me jumping out of bed. So I ran to the kitchen, made coffee, and cleaned myself up. I even shaved and splashed some men’s cologne on my face before heading out to borrow some supplies from Jim Murphy, an old retired friend of Marta’s and mine. I remembered something I told him at the funeral of his wife, Lois, six years ago when he was suicidal. I told him over and over will he couldn’t kill himself until he had no unfinished business in his life. I made it up, but people have told me if you say something over and over, eventually someone will believe it. He owns the construction company I recommend for residential projects. I knocked on his door.
“Luke! What’s up?”
“I’m fixing some plumbing for Bobby’s teacher, and I need a couple of things from your husband.”
Ann turned and yelled down the hall, “Jimmy, Luke’s here and needs some stuff. Come on in and have some coffee, Luke. Hmm, nice cologne, hot date?”
I followed her in, and no, I didn’t introduce them to each other; that was all Marta. It took a while, but he finally broke down, let Lois go, and began to give his life to Ann. They got married four years ago, and Jim is back in the world of the living.
After Marta died, he kept me going to work with calls and visits until I was productive at work again. We still had lunch together once a week.
“Luke, my friend. How are you?”
“Good, no, much better, thank you. I need a small piece of blue board, five feet of mesh tape, a cup of mud, thin-set tile adhesive, and sandstone grout.”
We went into his garage and pulled everything I needed in a minute flat as I explained what I was fixing. His garage was very organized.
“So, what’s the teacher’s name?”
“Betty, um, I mean, Miss Dalton.”
“Nice cologne, what is it? I bet Ann would like to know so she could buy me some.”
“It’s Sauvage by Dior!” That statement came from behind the closed door leading to the kitchen.
His expression never changed, but his eyes smiled. He helped me load it in my trunk, sending me off with, “Don’t forget to bring back what you don’t use.”
I was a little offended; he knew I wouldn’t take more than I needed, but I was clueless until I saw his expression in my mirror and figured out he wanted details. I drove away happy and excited I was going to see Betty.
When she let me in with my supplies, she said food first and then work. She did make a great omelet, and as I chewed my food, I stared into her eyes, pretty blue eyes. Wait, she’s waving her hand in front of my face again.
‘Wake up, Lukey; she’s trying to talk to you.’
“What did you say, Betty? I’m so sorry, I was admiring the view, and I didn’t hear what you were saying.”
“And what view was that?” I was still staring at her eyes when she asked that question, and I was struggling to say something that made sense without embarrassing me too much. Epic fail.
“Oh, um, well, this coffee is delicious, excellent in fact, and the omelet is to die for, uh-oh, not that the omelet will kill me.”
“Luke, you are so cute when you get flustered.”
I made my escape to the bathroom without tripping or saying something stupid and replaced and taped the drywall patch.
“I can come back this afternoon and put the tile in and do the grout tomorrow.”
“Lukey, I need to go shopping at the farmers market, and if you would accompany me while I shop, you could carry my purchases. Then, I wouldn’t have to drive there, and we could stroll the four blocks window shopping, talking, and admiring him the scenery.”
She called me Lukey, and Marta called me that when she wanted something. Not letting any grass grow under my feet, I immediately stuttered, “I’d lu, luv, love to do that with you,” and I started to backpedal on the words love and you until I realized, I shouldn’t apologize for everything I said.
We returned to her condo just before 2 o’clock, and I was carrying four cloth shopping bags full of groceries, and all I remembered was watching Betty shop while strange thoughts filled my mind. Simple conversations in my mind, like wandering if she’d let me paint her nails or if she would allow me to brush her hair. These thoughts gave way to more graphic pictures in my head, like Betty’s ass was smaller than Marta’s, but her breasts were fuller and defied gravity better than my wife’s boobs. And as I set the bags on the kitchen counter, I imagined what her lips would feel like on; STOP, I can’t do this! I slammed my hands over my eyes as if that would stop my brain from thinking.