A push from Mother Nature

"GOD!" George Tillerson's fist slammed, rattling the hallway window outside Cynthia's office.

"What did I ever see in you?"

"In Me! You…you, AH, AH, AH, AH," Debbie Tillerson screamed back, her foot slamming into the small trash can left in the hallway between the offices.

Cynthia's head snapped around, her fingers froze on the keyboard, and she stared through the glass just in time to see Debbie's hand flash out, slapping George in the face.

"Me, Debbie Tillerson screamed. "I gave up my career for you, and this is the thanks I get?"

Cynthia didn't hear the reply. The hallway outside her office was empty; the Tillerson's had moved towards the reception area and, hopefully, out the door.

Cynthia exhaled, still fuming from the interruption. What made the whole incident worst was that it was an ongoing weekly occurrence, and they had some idiot with a cell phone following them, filming the entire thing.

"Celebrities! God..."

Glancing at the wall across from her desk, the clock read 12:30.

She sighed, "well, might as well have lunch," she muttered to no one. Her office was void of any human presence, as was her life.

Cynthia left her office and walked down the hallway to the office break room. The latest Tillerson show, well, that was what the gang called it, was the conversation topic as she walked into the room.

Cynthia blew the air out of her cheeks as she took her lunch from the refrigerator. The last thing she wanted to hear about was the damn Tillerson's.

She turned to leave. Her office was like a sanctuary during times like this. All she had to do is close the door and enjoy its serienty. Her eyes swept the room, and she notices Paul. Their eyes met, and he smiled and motioned to the chair across from him.

Cynthia hesitated; her eyes darted about the room. Her co-workers love to gossip, especially if it was about some secret office romance.

Still, she thought. She felt a bit embarrassed just standing there.

She liked Paul. In fact, there were times at night, alone in the darkness, that she thought about him. Yet…

She smiled, nodding back. Once again, she felt her cheeks flush and walked over and sat down.

God, hell, George Tillerson was right, she thought as she looks at Paul. If only he would…. She chased the rest of the thoughts away and waited for what she knew he was going to say.

"It must be Tuesday!" He quips. His head wagging back and forth.

God, that grin… those emerald color eyes, she felt lightheaded, she rolled her eyes, and they both started laughing.

"How's your day Cynthia," he replied a moment later as he added some dressing to his salad.

"Ugh!" She replied, shaking her head. "It's beginning to look like another late night. I have 6 more legal briefs that have to be completed for Simmons by 9 A.M. tomorrow."

Paul nodded empathetically.

Years ago, he was a paralegal like Cynthia, and knew what she was going through. He had the notion of reaching out and hold her hand or even give her a hug. But this was not the time or the place, and their relationship was simply one of the co-workers.

"Cynthia," he began, his emotions flitted across his face.

She looked up, gave a weak smile, and held up her hand. "It's okay Paul, I know you have been through this and made it out alive," she forced a laugh.

Paul saw the pain behind the smile. It was evident in her eyes. Perhaps, …

Paul let the thought go and quickly change the subject. The rest of the lunch flew by, and they both left the break room together.

Paul's arm briefly brushed up against Cathi's. He felt the warmth and the softness of her skin. He stole a glance and was disappointed that she didn't notice. Yet, the thoughts he had earlier came back and just wouldn't go away.

They stopped in the middle of the hallway.

Paul turned, "Cynthia," he began, his words trailed off as a co-worker appeared.

"Ah! Catch ya later, Cynthia," Paul babbled as he opened his office door.

"Hope so," Cynthia felt frustrated. Ah, thanks, for having lunch with me.

Stepping back into her office, she smiled secretly, knowing what she would be dreaming about tonight.

The crash of thunder startled Cynthia.

"Damn, rain again. Just what I need," she moans.

Cynthia pulled the last brief from the printer and look at the clock.

"Crap, 9:20 already?" she groaned. "Another night shot."

She placed the stack of briefs on the center of her desk and stood up.

The sound of rain pelting the huge office windows wash away the feeling of accomplishment and just made her feel sad and depress. This was not the life that she had wanted or even hope to have. Life…hell, what was that.

She flipped off the light and close her office door and walked through the empty office. Everyone else had left hours earlier, and her shoulders sagged as the doors to the elevators open.

The guard nodded, automatically said good night as she walked towards the main doors.

A cold wind blew the rain, caught her umbrella, and she found herself soaked and shivering. The bus stop was still a block away.

Cynthia stood up against the wall of a building. She was still getting wet, but she was out of the wind.

"Damn, it, she cried out. It's not fair." She hated the idea of calling a cab, but….

Just then, a car pulled up, the passenger window came down, and a voice called out.

"Cynthia, get in."

She hesitated. Who…what?

"Cynthia…Its Paul."

A sudden guest of wind pushed her towards the car, and she jumped in the open door.

"My God, Paul!"

Paul took one look at Cynthia and couldn't believe it was the same girl that sat across from him at lunch. Her hair was matted; any makeup she had left was a tattoo on her cheeks. Her clothes were plastered to her body. She sat there shivering.

He quickly turned on the heater and then reached into the back seat and handed Cathi a sweatshirt.

"Cynthia, dam it… here put this on for Christ's sake!"

Cynthia nodded, her teeth chattering, curled up in the seat, as Paul put the car in gear and drove off. He recalled her saying once during a lunch break that she lived out in Crescent Heights.

He looked again at her condition and knew that the drive would be too long.

Little was said during the 10-minute drive back to his condo. He pulled into his garage, and shut off the engine, and turned to look at Cynthia.

Sad puppy dog eyes looked up at him. Cathi was still shivering.

"Cynthia, He smiled. We're at my place. You're going to get sick if you don't get dry and warm. Please don't get scared or worried. You're safe. Okay?"

"OH …OH cur, cur, okay!" She stammered.

Paul nodded, got out of the car, and came over and open the door for her. He helps her climb out and supported her as they walked around the car to the door.

Water dripped from her clothes and onto the kitchen floor as she stood just inside.

"I'm sorry,"…she moaned, her whole-body shivering.

He smiled, "it's okay. Wait here a moment, and I'll get you some towels."

He returned with a couple of large beach towels. "Here, there is a bathroom through that door. Get out of those wet clothes and wrap yourself up in these. Call me when you're decent!"

Cynthia returned a few minutes later. A bit unsure what was going to happen next.

Paul was hanging up the phone when she appeared. He turned and looked her up and down.

"Well, I must say, those towels never looked that good before."

She smiled. "Paul, ah…"

"Cynthia, Paul began holding up his hand, smiling. Look, I'm sure you feel uncomfortable, tired, and no doubt a bit hungry. Relax, or at least try to. Things are going to be okay. Trust me."

Cynthia nodded. "I do…I just wanted to thank you."

Paul, "I. Oh…wait a minute. My sister left some clothes here during her visit. I think they might fit. Follow me."

Paul led me to a rear bedroom, open a dresser drawer, and dug out the loungewear that his sister had left.

Cynthia wondered for a moment if he was telling me the truth. Were these his sister? Was there another woman in his life?

My god! The thought startled her. Was I jealous?

"Try these," Paul was saying as he handed me the clothes and left the room.

The clothes were a bit tight, but they were better than the towels.

There was a comb on the dresser, and she quickly made herself more presentable. She returned to the kitchen just as Paul was shutting the front door. In his hands was a large pizza box. The aroma made me realized how hungry I was.

Can you grab that bottle of Merlot and the two glasses, please?

I looked at the bottle and then at Paul.

"Wine?"

Paul chuckled nervously, "Ya, after the day you had, I thought some comfort food and wine would be the perfect medicine."

He hesitated. "Say, look…if you feel uncomfortable or if something is wrong. Please just tell me."

Cynthia blushed, "No…no, it's okay. Nothing is wrong; how could it be. I just don't know what to say!"

"Cynthia, follow me. I have a blanket spread out in front of the fire so you can get warm. You may be out of those wet clothes, but you were getting sick standing outside in the rain."

The fireplace was on the center of the living room. A blanket was spread out, and a stack of large rectangular pillows was stacked against the legs of a coffee table.

Cynthia's eyes darted around the room. A roaring fire, a blanket, pillows, pizza, and wine.

Cynthia felt her cheeks flush. "God, Paul," she begins, turning and stepping away from him.

Paul saw her jerk back. "Wo, wait…ugh…wait a minute. This is not what you're thinking!"

"Paul, I not sure what to think. I like you, and I consider you a friend. But all of this, I didn't think you were that type of guy!" She froze, her eyes flashing, struggling to comprehend.

"You like me… Cynthia, did you say you like me?" Paul's eyes widen at first at her confession. Then suddenly realizing the gravity of his mistake.

"Ah! No please, I'm not …please don't think that." He pleaded.

Paul turned and sat down on the couch, place his head in his hands, shaking it back and forth.

"Ah! God, I'm so…so sorry, Cynthia. I just wanted to impress you…not make you think……"

Cynthia stared frighten as Paul's body started to shake uncontrollably.

"Paul, Paul, are you okay."

Paul lifted his head; his eyes were red, the flames from the fire reflecting off his tears.

He shook his head no.

"I feel like such an idiot. He started his words rushing out between sobs. It's just that I like you…I been wanting to ask you out and just didn't find the nerve, and then suddenly there you were tonight, and you were soaking wet and trembling, and my heart just felt so bad and yet so grateful. That I was able to help you."

Cynthia, stare. She just couldn't believe what she was hearing. She walked over and sat down next to Paul. She pulled his face up.

"Paul, Oh Paul," she leaned over and kissed him.

Paul pulled back, his eyes searching hers.

"Cynthia," he began. She smiled and nodded,

"Yes, you wonderful fool. I've been waiting for you to ask me out. Heck, she started to laugh; I was starting to think I was going to have to ask you."

She leans in. Kisses him once. Thats for saving me from the storm.

Then she kissed him again, longer this time. She pulled back, grabbed the wine and the glasses. She filled the two glasses and handed one to Paul.

"Paul, Lets, consider this our first of many… many dates to come."

Their glasses clicked together.

Cynthia stood up, putting out her hand.

"Well, come on, the fire is hot, the pizza is getting cold, and I'm hungry."