Читать книгу Reconnected - DH Steppler - Страница 7

As I was still standing in front of the mirror, I looked at myself. I could see that I needed to curl my hair - I needed gentle curls to soften my features. The rollers were hot again and ready to use. That was a chore I performed daily so I was quite efficient at it. Still, I often burn my fingers; always in such a hurry.

Dropped the towel and put on my underwear; then, I waited at the desk for my hair to curl. As I sat there, I saw the postcards that I got from the passenger services desk. Picked up the closest one and began a quick note to the girls at the office. By the time I was finished with the postcard, my rollers were cold. I removed the rollers and dusted my face with a minimum of make up while sitting at the desk.

The blue silk dress hanging in the bag was waiting for my attention. Actually the dress was very simple. It was a beautiful vivid Olympic blue knee length A-line (the fabric hugged the waist and flared out at the hips). It had little cap sleeves and a simple bodice. I did most of the stitching by hand because the silk was too delicate for the machine. When I put the dress on, I smiled at how nice it looked. It fit me exactly right; it was, after all, made for me, by me. The scoop neck left ample room for my ‘tin-cup’ necklace, another of my creations. That necklace was knotted lapis lazuli with accent crystals on each side of the stones, very delicate – my favorite.

I went to the mirror and finished my hair leting the curls fall loosely to my shoulders because the soft curls really did give me a much fresher, softer youthful look. My hair, very thick, not blond and not quite brown, it’s some non-descript color that has never been named – fine to a fault - was clean, soft, and shiny. I put a pair of small lapis studs in my ears to match the necklace and touched on a bit of my favorite perfume ‘Amazing Grace,’ slipped on some strappy blue sandals, and decided I was done.

Not a minute too soon as I heard a knock on the cabin door. I opened it and Michael shot into the room like he was being chased and quickly closed the door behind him. When he practically dived into the room, I made a quick retreat into the closet to give him space for his entrance.

“Nice dress!”

He hugged me and kissed my cheek.

“You smell good, too.” He said with a cute little smile on his face.

“Thank you.” I said.

He was wearing a black tux and was freshly shaved. He looked so button down and handsome that when I got a good look at him even though I was deep into the corner of the closet, he nearly took my breath away.

“You look pretty dapper, yourself.”

“Michael, I was wondering if you are still interested in going to the movie under the stars or the 10:00 theater show. I think our eight o’clock dinner negates the movie but if the theater still interests you, I’m game or not.”

I wanted to make it clear that he wasn’t obligated for either event but I was definitely expecting dinner on his balcony and would be available for him if he wanted to see the theater show.

Taking my hand and pulling me toward the slider to the balcony, he said, “Let’s play it by ear, can we?”

“Wait, do I need to bring anything with me, i.e. some pinky, or whiskey?”

I wanted to do my part.

“If we need something from here, we won’t be far away.”

As he spoke, he waved his hand out to show what he meant by here. Then he pulled me through the door like a child who couldn’t possibly find their way and shouldn’t be let loose. He continued to pull me by the hand until we got through the small door between our balconies.

“I’m so hungry; I could hardly wait till eight. But we’re all set up now so let’s get started.”

He brought me to the prepared table and pulled the chair out for me to sit down.

“Some nice white wine to get us started. It’s already been corked.” He poured us each a glass and then raised his glass to mine for a toast.

“Cheer, thanks a lot, eh.”

He used my words from the night before when I toasted the ship, the trip and the sea.

“You don’t miss much.” I said to him as his words warmed me.

“You don’t talk much.” He said. “But when you do, it’s memorable.

Michael had ordered double lobster meals for each of us. There was a cold fruit soup, a small green salad, pasta, a vegetable medley and of course, jello. I noticed that he had a CD player playing classical music that was soft in the background.

We drank the wine and worked on the lobster. By 8:30 we had finished off a complete bottle between the two of us. I was peacefully satisfied with a little buzz from the wine. I’m not used to drinking that much at a time; it’s more my style to have a single drink and load a pipe.

As I drained my wine glass, I caught Michael watching me. I smiled. He just continued to look at me with a look of frustration. I reached for my jello.

“I can’t figure you out.” He said in a resigned voice.

“I mean, you are a sweet, kind woman who is good with her hands and has good hands. I know that you are intelligent with a sense of humor, you enjoy music, you have some powerfully creative talents, you’re caring, and self sacrificing. But even with all of those giving traits you are still aloof; sometimes so much that it can be off-putting.”

“Do you have to figure me out? Would it be such a bad thing to just co-exist without understanding at all? Understanding another person can be a full time job and frankly not without irritation. I’m beyond sorry if I have insulted you; that would never be my intent. Yet, I think I know what you mean; I don’t respond to people in a ‘proper’ manner or should I say ‘normal’ manner. Analyzing my reactions and responses to people – why I am like I am – it’s because I’ve tried to give my self the gift of honor.”

I stopped again seeking his reaction and realizing that sounded a bit pompous. He was just listening but had lost the questioning expression on his face.

“Honor allows me to be honest with myself and with others. Honor allows me to cut through the bullshit. I don’t speak just for the sake of filling empty air.”

I was concerned that I had offended him without even knowing it. Was I no longer aware of the way people react to me or how others perceive me?

“Wait, I was just wondering why you don’t talk more?” He said.

“I related your lack of dialogue to me because the most significant person in my life, my fiancée, can’t carry on a conversation with me. We can’t have a discussion without an interpreter – that’s where the frustration comes from. At first, her beauty and loving was enough but sometimes I just want to have a chat with another individual. I’d like a free flow and exchange of ideas on a level deeper than just sight and touch. I miss the surprise that the conversation with an intelligent person can offer.”

Even though I could see that he was serious, I smiled an ‘aw, come on smile.’

“You have what most men want, a beautiful woman who loves you and knows how to love you. You get all the loveliness and none of the verbal irritation or nagging that men accuse women of.”

“When you put it that way, I think that I should be completely happy with my situation but instead I’m starting to think that maybe I was too hasty in trying to make her mine.”

He was speaking in a thoughtful voice, a quiet, reasoning voice. It felt like he was puzzling it all out and working hard to be fair and clear about what his decisions could and would do to his future.

I listened without feeling any pressure to respond.

“I think I need to make my worries known to her but I’m concerned for her feelings.”

He continued, half to himself.

“I think I would go ahead and marry her if it meant not hurting her feelings.”

An uncontrollable urge to protect her, whoever “her” might be, was building within me. Not pulling any punches, I said.

“That’s chicken shit! And it really doesn’t do her any favors. If you don’t give her the truth, she won’t be able to figure out how she fits into the scenario or allow her to resolve her own trepidations.”

He flinched from my forthright words and the vehemence in which I delivered them.

“Ouch, that was harsh.”

“Like I said, I‘ve given myself the gift of honor; that gift allows me to say hard things and I don’t always remember to temper them with softness. Please forgive me for being so blunt. But, if you can get passed the rudeness that you perceive and just hear the words, you will see that honesty is so necessary for her as well as for you – that is, if you truly want to make positive, meaningful progress. You are, after all, talking about forever and ever.”

We sat in silence while he pondered my words. After several minutes, I was the first to speak.

“I’ll tell you what, why don’t you talk and I will just listen. I’m actually pretty good at listening – I’ll listen to understand before I comment again. Then later, we can switch off and I’ll talk while you listen. How’s that?”

Michael nodded ever so slightly, like he didn’t want to chance disturbing the thoughts that were already taking shape in his head. He sat across the table looking at me but he wasn’t seeing me. He seemed to be wrestling with his thoughts.

The quiet didn’t bother me. When my jello was gone and more time had passed, I started eyeballing his jello.

I let my mind wander to the ocean and to the horizon and noticed that the classical music was over. Making a move to the CD player Michael put his hand on mine and stopped my advance. He went to the player, himself, and selected the best of the 70’s.

Michael sat back down and put his hand on mine again, like an anchor. He looked into my eyes and started to talk.