Corkscrewed

Returning to San Francisco after 10 years away was an adventure Patricia had looked forward to. Now that all the unpacking was done, and new furniture in place, she could settle in and enjoy her new apartment. After completing her first full week at her new job as a personal assistant, she strolled past all the big name shops they didn't have in the last town she called home. She went into one of her favorites and bought a set of crystal wine glasses as a reward for accomplishing so much in a short amount of time. She was looking forward to pouring the bottle of Wandering Giants merlot she treated herself to. She was not only a fan of merlot, but also the baseball team, so it seemed the perfect match for her first weekend back in the city by the bay.

She was barely inside her door when the phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID on the cordless house phone and saw it was her new downstairs neighbor. Not wanting to be 'that' type of neighbor, she reluctantly answered, setting the glasses and wine aside.

"Oh Patricia, oh good, you're home".

"Um, yeh, Denise, you called my landline, so that means I am, indeed, home".

"Patricia. I need a big favor. Actually, it's a favor for you as well".

"What can I do for you?...oh, and for me".

"My husband's friend is on his way over for dinner, and we have to leave for a quick appointment. I was hoping he could come up to your flat til we get back. He has had his Covid shots, or I wouldn't ask you. He said he is bringing wine, so THAT'S a plus".

"Gosh, I wasn't really planning on company tonight".

"Don't think of it as company. Think of it as a first date! Joe and I wanted to set you up on a date with him soon anyway. Two birds, one stone".

She glanced at the nice bottle of merlot that was beckoning her. She thought it might be rude to open it when she was already told this guy would be bringing some.

"Yeh. Sure. Why not. I guess I need to get a first date in town out of the way at some point. Have him come on up. I will try to be good company for him til you get back".

"Okay thanks. You are a life saver. If you hit off, you guys can join Joe and I later. He should be there in an hour. He is very tall and great looking. Oh yeh, his name is Mark. Thanks again, kid".

Patricia stared at the phone for what seemed hours though it was seconds. Mark. Mark? Oh God why does his name have to be Mark? Her ex-boyfriend, Mark, was the reason she fled San Francisco in tears and heartache ten years ago. She slowly placed the phone back on it's charger, trying to ignore that gnawing in her gut. At 35 years old, she'd had her share of first dates, so it wasn't that. It was just that old sense of doom whenever she pictured his face or heard his name.

She pushed the knot in her stomach down, took a quick shower, applied light make up, put on a brand new summer dress and took a final glance in the mirror, before rinsing two of the new glasses for her first 'First date' since the pandemic raged.

Nearly 30 minutes past the hour mark when he was to arrive, there was a loud knock. Make that two loud knocks and a simultaneous doorbell ring, followed by more obnoxious knocking. Patricia plastered a smile she didn't feel on her face and opened the door. There he was. Mark. THAT Mark. Same wavy brown hair, same flash of white teeth and same stupid look she came to expect whenever he found some something amusing.

"Hey Patty-Cake! It IS you! When Denise described her new neighbor to me, I just knew it. I felt it, ya know? Like in my gut?" Oh yes, she knew. She knew because her gut had warned her as well.

Her attempt at being gracious lacked all sincerity, but she at least opened the door a little wider so he could enter.

"Come on in then", she managed. "And it is not Patty anymore. It is Patricia. I am not that same girl you knew 2 years ago".

"Oh Hell, Patty-Cakes, whatcha talkin about? You look like the same sweet thing".

Not wanting to upset her relationship with Denise, her first real friend since moving back to the city, she swallowed all the curse words swimming in her brain and managed an easy "Come on in then. Let's get through this til Denise and Joe get home".

He walked in like he owned the place, though he had never been here, and the last place she lived she had unceremoniously kicked him out. He handed her a dollar store variety of some red blend wine (if you could call it wine) and carried a frosty cold pack of excellent brew pub beer he brought for himself. He proceeded to flop down on the couch and put his size 13's on her newly acquired vintage footstool.

She brought out the corkscrew and true to his nature as she remembered, he grabbed it from her, prying off the cap of his cold beer first before placing it back in her open palm. She felt the heft and solidness and wondered to herself what it would feel like to hurl it at him.

Returning to the kitchenette, she inserted the spiral end into the wine cork. Turning the alien head, she watched the long E.T. arms slowly raise themselves upward, their little black hands coming together in prayer. Then pressing the arms down til they lay flat at their sides, the cork being drawn slowly into the alien's body.

He sat in the living room droning on and on about something she couldn't quite hear but knew she wouldn't care about. The bits and pieces she caught were all about him, his wants, his needs, his accomplishments, etc. She was fairly certain he never asked her how she was or what she had been doing for the past 10 years or what brought her back to her home town.

As she pulled the corkscrew from the bottle, she imagined the spiral tongue twisting slowly into his chest and wondered if it would extract a heart where she was sure none existed, or if inserted into his head, would there be any worthwhile thoughts to pull out.

"Hey! Are we gonna watch this movie or what?" pulled me from my daydream. Grabbing the tool from her once again, he poked into the plastic wrapping of a DVD he had brought. With the sharp point, he tore it from the movie box and dropped it onto the just swept floor.

She looked down at her freshly waxed table to see the circle of sweat form where he had casually set and splashed his beer. His discarded shoes were kicked haphazardly across her clean living room and the feet on the stool were now bare and dirty.

"You need to go," She suddenly said. "Don't come back". He looked surprised; his eyebrows arched in that fashion that always made her want to slap him. He grabbed his beer bottle , leaving a circle of foam on the table top and stormed out.

Patricia went to the kitchen, poured his dollar store wine down the drain and opened the Merlot. Once again watching her little friend move his cogged shoulders up and down, as it swallowed the cork, she wondered if he knew how close he came to finding out the damage her metal friend could inflict. She picked up the plastic from the floor, wiped down the table, and enjoyed her favorite movie and a glass of wine. Reflecting on how she had stood up to him on her own terms and on her own turf, made her smile.