Tomorrow Never Knows, part nine

Neala stood before the full-sized mirror looking at her outfit one more time. She wore a spaghetti-strapped, knee-length cotton dress with a floral pattern that flattered her chest and waistline. She paired it with a long, light, burgundy-coloured cardigan. The ensemble was complete with a comfortable but stylish set of black pumps. Business casual.

At 5:45 pm precisely, Fergus stood sheepishly on her doorstep. He wore brown leather dress shoes, a pair of dark khakis, a forest green dress shirt, and a navy blue suit jacket. Trying to put the other night’s awkward bathrobe-erection incident behind him (and hoping she had done the same), Fergus knocked on Neala’s door.

As she opened the door to greet him, he held up a bouquet of autumn flowers, saying nothing. Touched by this gesture, she immediately welcomed him into the porch and proceeded to arrange his offering in a vase by the kitchen sink.

Fergus smiled sweetly and nodded as he gazed upon her head to toe. “You look beautiful, Neala,” he told her, proudly. “But then again, you always do.”

Blushing slightly, she replied, “Thank you, Fergus. You clean up very nicely yourself.”

They agreed to take his vehicle and made their way out to the driveway. He opened the car door for her. They drove to the restaurant in relative silence, listening to the radio and making idle comments about the weather. “Nice evening,” she attempted. “Yes, especially for October,” he agreed.

A short time later, they arrived at the restaurant, entered, and proceeded to their table. Neala ordered a glass of the house red, while Fergus opted for a draught beer. They smiled and nodded nervously at one another. Fergus lost track of how many times he cleared his throat. Neala worried that she touched her hair too much. But once the drinks arrived and they each fortified themselves with a sip of courage, they soon settled into a conversation.

The chatter was easy, comfortable. They talked about her work as an administrative assistant for the local health authority, some of the characters in her workplace, a recent spat between two colleagues over use of a stapler, of all things. They talked about how he spent his week. Retired from the local mill, he spent many of his mornings in the town coffee shops with his former cronies and his afternoons volunteering with various community charities behind the scenes. His days were full and no less full of stories. They giggled and spoke about shared acquaintances.

It was familiar, natural.

Before long, supper arrived; chicken parmigiana for her, pork loin and mashed potatoes for him.

It was delicious – all of it, the company and the meal. The lightheartedness and easy exchange continued. When their bellies were full, they pushed away their plates and ordered coffee - Irish for him, Spanish for her.

The bill arrived and Fergus reached for his wallet. Neala interjected and insisted on sharing the cost. “You may have invited me, but in accepting your invitation, I became a partner in this transaction,” she quipped. After agreeing upon a reasonable amount for a tip, they settled their account and exited.

He broached the topic first.

“If I’m not being too forward, Neala, and if you don’t mind my saying so, I’m having such a lovely time with you. I don’t want the evening to end. At least not yet.”

She nodded in agreement.

Fergus continued. “Would you be interested in joining me back at my place for a night cap? I bought a bottle of that Cab Sav you like. No pressure, but it’s such a nice night. We can just watch TV or listen to music.”

“I’d like that, Fergus,” she said with relief, smiling.

They held hands as they made their way to the parking lot. It happened organically; their hands just seemed to connect without conscious thought. It was both wholesome and sensual.

Upon reaching the car, he leaned in confidently to give her a kiss. It tasted sweet, like his coffee, and just as warm. She kissed him back. It was gentle, yet electric at once, alerting the butterflies to flutter once more.

He opened the car door for her as before.

They drove to his place without saying a word, listening to the radio and holding hands. A familiar song played…

“Turn off your mind…Relax and float downstream…It is not dying… It is not dying… Lay down all thoughts… Surrender to the void… It is shining… It is shining…”

“The Beatles,” thought Neala, quietly chuckling to herself. “Nice touch, Universe,” she thought. “Well played.”

They arrived at his place… and went inside.

 *********

Thanks for reading!

If you want to start from the beginning of Neala & Fergus’ story, follow this link to read Part One:

https://vocal.media/fiction/tomorrow-never-knows-coq8uj0i7e

And if you want to see what happens next, follow this link:

https://vocal.media/fiction/tomorrow-never-knows-part-ten