If Only Every Glass of Wine Ended this Way
“Sit, sit, it’s okay”, ejected from his lips that were perfectly framed by the salt and pepper impeccably trimmed goatee.
All I could do was stare frozen in time; I could not believe it was real. I stammered, “okay” as I hurriedly sat in the ratan chair. Why was I hurrying? I had waited round about three and a half months for this moment. Ever since I laid eyes on him, I was living in a moment. If you counted the time, I carried his black and white drawing around it was nearly nine months of waiting to meet him, see him, and get him to notice me. Yet it was the unbalance of him sitting and I standing that had to be corrected immediately. Yes, I arrived late. Go ahead and chalk it up to that is me, no matter how important the momentous occasion maybe.
I drank in every color, every sound, the smell of salt sea and lingering coconut sunscreen, and most importantly every cut chiseled angle of his sun washed olive skinned face. I gazed into his dark brown eyes and everything zoomed out like the first time we met. The room and everything in it disappeared into forever, I watched it from the table. Endless expansion of purply, inky black stretching with accents of burst of light randomly scattered throughout filled my vision. Looking in those eyes there was no end and no beginning just a beckoning to join the expansive energy.
“I thought you might be more of a wine lady then a beer girl,” he said with a half smirk as he reached out with his tawny strong hand and poured the dark burgundy merlot into the stemless wineglass in front of me.
Ahh yes, a reference to the time he thought he was going to save me from myself. In my mind I flashed back to one of our many miscommunications. He had texted me this:
“I hope I didn’t misunderstand you. Do you need me to take the beer off your hands so that you don’t drink it? I will if you do.”
Truly kind of him. That is a hell of a property manager to get personally involved in tenant affairs, on the other hand it was his nature to see me as a piece of work and try to minimize any potential liabilities on the property. I was literally cleaning out my refrigerator that is already somewhere between dorm and full size anyway with the limited capacity. All I said was “Hey, Matt I have a question. I have this beer in my fridge. It has been there a week and I need room. Would you like it?”
This coming on the heels of him assuring me my overreaction to the less than satisfying washer experience was “Its okay, because even I can be a bit of a head case sometimes.,” he texted. Basically, I felt he was insinuating I was a headcase but was trying to say it nicely like sometimes I can be a headcase also. This left no doubt in my mind that yes, I overreacted and handled the deal all wrong. And I had, but headcase, not really. I could have really showed him some headcase moves. I thought I was being reserved compared to the volcano of frustration after three hours of trying to wash one load of laundry that I held back from fully erupting.
I came back to the present and he was smiling watching me off in my head. His hands were back off the table interlaced in his lap and he his shoulders pressed back into his chair in a pose of ease, I had not seen on him before. He was so handsome so poised, so natural. I had never seen him in this light. I flashed back to moments that I stole watching him moving about in such a robotic and strained way. He was efficient in all his moves there was always a melancholy hue tinged with the red fear driven anxiety that cloaked his true handsomeness. Even through all of that I thought he resembled a Greek God. Now, I could hardly look at him.
He was now amused by my inability to say anything. His eyes sparkled with hidden laughter and instead he began to blush and looked away. He had told me on more than one occasion he was a “insecure introvert”, this was because of how he grew up. He also said he was a “recovering perfectionist”. I could not comprehend what that must be like. Yet, somehow it seemed familiar as if he were echoing my own ways of operating in the world.
“Oh, you look nice. That dress is beautiful. I never really see you in dresses.”, he said looking down as if he had gotten afraid again.
“Thank you, yes I got it for this occasion actually.”, I said, looking off to the right. I had become self-conscious.
For the first time, I heard the music playing softly in the background. He had honestly thought of everything, including some small portable speakers that was currently softly playing, “Just Another Day” by Jon Secada softly. The light of the purple candle in the blown glass dish played in the breeze as the waves rolled in. I reached for the glass not knowing what else to do. His hands swiftly moved catching mine and he got up and was all the sudden next to me.
He was strong and rough and pulled me out of the chair next to him in one swift action. He felt like a protective cage around me as he pulled me close to him. I had never touched him before, and I could literally hear the energy in my body crackle like the dated power lines going down Southard Street in the Keys, trying to keep up with the Friday night charades on Duval. He pressed his forehead against mine and held me this way. He had one hand twisted in my hair slightly pulling it as he pulled my head close to his. His other arm was low around my lower back and waist area. I lost track of how long we stayed this way.
He eased his grip, so my head naturally slid down due to gravity and he kissed my forehead lightly where he had been pressing his head moments before. He twisted me around and stood behind me with his arms around me. He whispered, “Watch that”. The sun was hitting the water splashing an orange hue to the perfect turquoise water and periwinkle sky.
If only every glass of wine ended this way.