Holding on to Someday Page 8

  Lingering a moment longer, I smile back at him. “Have a nice lunch,” I tell him.

  As I throw my trash away, I steal a final glance over my shoulder. Brady takes a bite of his food, but his eyes stay focused on me, so I smile one last time. He nods his head and throws up a hand. I turn and walk out the door, back toward the office.

  I find myself a little flustered as I stroll down the sidewalk. I meet men all the time in my job. I eat lunch with them around cluttered conference tables, I have lunch with them at restaurants, and I enjoy dinner with them at country clubs. However, in all my encounters with men, none has ever solicited a reaction from me like Brady Reese just did. I can’t get him out of my mind. It’s like he stopped me in my tracks.

  Angie gives me a wondering smile as I enter through the glass door of my office. Tilting her head to the side, she says, “Miss Willet… did you have a nice lunch?” I barely hear her question as I sit down in the chair in front of her desk, grabbing the papers from my box.

  I thumb mindlessly through the stack of messages until she leans forward and loudly whispers, “Clara!” in a hushed, but firm tone. I look up to see Angie wearing a fake, all-teeth smile on her face.

  “Hmm?” I respond, wondering what she asked me.

  “I asked if you had a nice lunch,” she repeats.

  “Yes, I did. It was very nice, in fact.” I respond to her fake smile with a real smile of my own. Angie stops typing on her computer. “Something’s different,” she says, looking at me.

  “What would be different?” I ask, trying to conceal my inner elation. “I ate lunch at my usual spot."

  Getting up to go into my office, I give her a large smile and have a seat behind my desk. After 10 minutes of flipping through papers to decide whose call to return next, Angie comes and plops down into the chair in front of my desk. She crosses her legs and folds her hands over her knee. She looks at me intently. “Do you need something, Angie?” I ask, not sure why she’s in my office at this moment.

  She responds quickly, “Yes. I need to know why you left for lunch looking all gloom and doom and came back with a sparkle in your eye, a cheesy grin, and humming a tune as you walked into the office.”

  I was humming a tune. Really? I wasn’t even aware I was making a noise loud enough to hear. I look at Angie, who is eagerly awaiting my answer.

  “I was humming... really?” I ask her.

  “Yes. Yes, you were. You don’t hum, Clara, let alone smile like a teenage girl at the office. What happened at lunch?”

  “Nothing really. It was just a nice lunch,” I say.

  At this point, her eyes are throwing daggers, and her leg is bouncing fiercely under those clasped hands.

  “I’m not stupid, Clara. You come back from lunch grinning like the Cheshire cat, and you expect me to believe that nothing happened???? Did you have lunch with someone? Did you meet somebody?” she asks.

  “Oh good law no, Angie! It was nothing like that!” I tell her, waving her off. Her leg calms down, and I smile at my friend. She can read me like a book. “I went to the café and sat in my usual spot. It was pretty crowded today, and while I was daydreaming, looking out the window, this man comes up and asks me if he can join me at my table.”

  Angie sits up and clasps her hand over her mouth, and I hear a little squeak escape. I continue, “I had finished my lunch, so I just got up to let him have my table.”

  “What?!” she exclaims. “Why didn’t you stay and eat with him? Wait… let me back up first. Was he cute?”

  “Oh my gosh, Angie… seriously!” I say, leaning back in my chair and rolling my eyes.

  “Yes, seriously. Answer the question!” Angie demands.

  “Ok… first off, men are not cute. Boys are cute. But, yes, he was cute. He was very handsome, actually. And he commented, ‘I’ve seen you here a lot,’ or something along those lines.”

  Angie giggles and claps her hands quickly in front of her face. One of those little rapid hand dances that tells me she’s excited about something. “I knew it! I knew this had something to do with a guy. I could tell as soon as you walked in the door.”

  “I didn’t have lunch with this guy. I just got up and gave him my table,” I tell her. “Buuuuut…” I emphasize, “He did say maybe we can share a table next time.”

  She falls back into her seat. The phone starts ringing, and she jumps up to retrieve the call. “Dang it… hold that thought while I answer this call. You are NOT off the hook for finishing this story.” She spins on her heels to answer the phone.

  A few minutes later, she peeks back into my office pointing her finger in my direction. “You… me… my place… tonight…Charles is working late. We are getting pizza, and you are going to dish. Comprende?”

  “Angie, there is nothing to dish… nothing happened!” I exclaim, but I secretly want to talk about the mystery man I met at lunch. So much to think about… so much to discuss. She is persistent with her intent glare.

  Feigning disinterest, I nod my head, “Sure… whatever. I’ll go home to change and be over by 6.”

  ♦♦♦

  I open the door to Angie's house, rapping quickly on the door as I walk in. “I’m here!” I hear her running down the hall to meet me. She’s all bubbly and ringing her hands like she’s up to something.

  “I got the Philly cheesesteak pizza we like, and it should be ready in ten,” she says.

  “Why are you so hyper?” I ask, pushing past her to deposit my meal contribution of chips and a 2-liter Coke.

  “I’m SO excited for you!!!” she squeals, following behind me. I turn to look at her, and I swear she is bouncing.

  “First, you need to chill out… and stop bouncing! Why are you bouncing?!?” I exclaim, placing my hands on her shoulders to keep her still.

  “Clara… you met a man! That’s why I’m so excited! But, the fact is, he’s not any man. I know 'cause of the look you had when you got back to the office,” she squeals.

  Oh my word. How can Angie tell that just from a look on my face? I think she’s lost her mind. She is so desperate for me to find someone; she will come up with any lame excuse.

  “I didn't have a look, Angie and I don’t know anything at all about him other than his name,” I tell her while flicking on the oven light to check our pizza.

  “Come on, Clara! Just let me have some fun with this. You agreed to come over here tonight, so you must want to discuss something,” she says, hand planted on her hip. I can’t hold in the laugh any longer. It’s funny to me how excited she gets over me meeting a guy. She reminds me a little bit, of how my college roommate Julie used to be.

  “Remember when Jon Richards came into the office? You were all coo-coo over him having his eye on me, and he ended up being a crazy man. For all I know this guy could be the same,” I exclaim loudly.

  “Ewww… don’t remind me of him! That man had serious issues!” We both shiver thinking about him.

  Jon Richards was a salesman who visited our office frequently several years ago. He was a little younger than I was, but when he found out I was single, he started to pursue me. At first, it was kind of nice and non-threatening. He was semi-attractive, so I didn’t mind it. I even joined him for lunch a few times. He seemed a little odd, but it was nice to have company at lunch, so I overlooked it. After a couple of weeks, things started getting strange. He called my office all of the time. Then he asked for my cell number and started texting me. All. Day. Long.

  You are so beautiful to me....

  My world is a better place with you in it...

  When the sun rises, I see your hair…

  Ummmm…. what? Gross. I think he was obsessed with me.

  The final straw came when I stopped responding to his messages or calls. He cut up some rose petals, put them in a plastic baggie, and left a note on my desk. It said:

  I'm broken when I’m not with you…

  Can we say, Fatal Attraction? That was strange. We never even went on an official date. I can’t
imagine what he would do in a real relationship. I could understand why he was still single.

  *ding*

  The timer on the oven goes off, letting us know the pizza is finished cooking. “All I’m saying is, let’s not get ahead of the game here. Am I attracted to him? Yes. And apparently, he works somewhere close by if he eats lunch there as much as I do,” I tell Angie while she pours our drinks. “But, I do find it intriguing that he’s noticed me there before, but I’ve never seen him. Not once. Well… not that I can think of.”

  “What do you do when you are eating lunch? Hmmm?” she asks in an intimidating way. Before I can answer, she does so for me. “You sit there with your nose in your phone or a book and probably never even look up to see who’s in the restaurant.”

  Busted. She totally nailed it. I’m always self-conscious of eating alone. I do it so often you would think I’d be used to it by now. And I am, I find ways to distract myself. “I know, I know… you’re right. For all I know Josh Duhamel could walk into that café and I’d never know it. Speaking of, he kinda looks like Josh.”

  Poking her finger into my arm, Angie says, “See… I’ve told you to leave that thing alone,” pointing at the smartphone I’m holding in my hand. “You are never going to meet anyone until you face the world. Look up! You are obviously missing out on important people in your life.”

  We prepare our plates and drinks and sit on the couch to eat. Crossing our legs, we face each other. I take a huge bite of pizza and immediately yelp, “Haaaaaaah-t!” and let the burning food drop back onto my plate.

  Angie giggles. “Take it easy there girl!”

  I know better. Yet, I still do this every time. “The roof of my mouth is burnt. Grrrr.”

  While I let the pizza cool, we chat more about the potential of Brady Reese. After a few minutes, we come to a few conclusions:

  1. He initiated the conversation. Therefore one would think if he was bold enough to ask to sit with a stranger…who also happened to be a woman…then there must be some attraction there.

  2. He said he’s noticed I eat at the Corner Café about as much as he does, which means he must be a regular. Like me. And he's paid attention to me enough to know my regular spot.

  3. He alluded to us having lunch together sometime in the future, which could mean he’s just being friendly OR he’s interested in getting to know me better.

  Food for thought. I’m going to ponder these conclusions tonight in my sleep.

  After we finish our pizza, and our evaluation of Brady, we put on a movie. Nothing more is said of the handsome man at lunch who made me blush.

  16

  Flys, butterflies, and other flying objects

  I am standing in my closet, trying to pack a bag for my next trip, while a house fly buzzes around my head. I swat at it, to no avail. "These things are so annoying," I mumble to myself. It’s like a kamikaze plane buzzing to its death… but it never dies. Ever. This fly is the size of a small bird, and arguably the most annoying insect on earth. Smacking it repeatedly into the door cannot kill the annoying pest, so I keep swatting the air and packing my suitcase.

  I’m heading to Chicago later today for a two-day trip to meet with clients. I zip up my suitcase and grab my coat as I head out the door. I stifle a yawn as I lock my apartment door. Last night was a long, sleepless night as I kept thinking about Brady Reese. My mind would not turn off, and the same sentence kept replaying over and over.

  …maybe we can share a table next time…

  What could that mean? Was he insinuating something? Was he being friendly? Why am I so smitten by him? I don’t know, but I do know I can’t get those deep brown eyes out of my head. Too caught off guard to notice anything else about him - like if he was wearing a wedding band- I’ll have to pay more attention next time I see him. If there is a next time.

  I decide to stop by the Corner Café to grab a cup of coffee on my way to work. I need some caffeine to get me through the day ahead. I stop dead in my tracks as I look at the line in front of me; but it's not the line that has my attention, it's the man standing in the line. Brady Reese. He's dressed in a dark gray suit with a briefcase slung over his shoulder, looking at his phone. I force myself to walk to the back of the line as a fluttering sensation fills my body. I put my hand on my stomach in an attempt to calm the strange reaction in my body. What in the world?! Do I have butterflies??? I haven’t felt this way in years. Many, many years to be exact. I think back to the first time I felt those butterflies. Drew Cason. Nope… not going there this morning.

  Brady is three people ahead of me, and I’m torn over what I should do. Should I try to get his attention, or should I ignore him? I’m nervous, and suddenly my hands are sweaty. He’s up next to place his order, so maybe I’ll wait and see if he notices me. I start thinking about that stupid fly in my closet this morning and wish I could swat away this feeling in my belly at this moment.

  A couple of minutes later the lady behind the counter asks for my order. About two seconds after that I hear a man's voice say, “Fancy seeing you here.” My eyes glance over at the handsome man standing to my left holding a big cup of coffee with an even bigger smile on his face. “Clara was it?” he asks me.

  Returning his smile, I step aside to make room for the next customer in line and tell him, “Yes, it is. I can’t believe you remembered that.” Lame… such a lame thing to say, I think to myself.

  “Of course, I remembered. It was only yesterday that I ran you off from your table,” Brady says.

  I feel heat flood my cheeks as I stand awkwardly, looking at him while he gives me the once-over. “Will I see you at your normal spot for lunch today?” he asks.

  “No, I’m leaving for Chicago in a couple of hours. For work.” I tell him. I see his eyes shift and they look… disappointed?

  “Well, then I guess you won’t have to worry about me interrupting your lunch today,” he says.

  I don’t know what to say, or how to respond, or what I should do. So, I nod my head and look behind the counter to see if my order is up.

  “So what type of work is taking you to Chicago?” he asks, pulling my focus back to him. I must be giving him a puzzled look because he quickly tags on, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “I'm meeting with clients. To finish up a contract." I tell him. Hearing my name called, I walk to the counter to grab my coffee.

  “Ah, I see. Chicago, huh? I love it up there. So… windy…” he says bobbling his head likes it’s being blown away. I laugh, wondering if he’s ever been there or if he’s saying that because it’s known as The Windy City.

  “Have you ever been?” I ask as we walk toward the door.

  “A few years ago. I went up for a bachelor party and wedding.”

  We stand just inside the door, and I wonder what is going to happen next. My office is just around the corner, but I’m very curious as to where he works. However, I’m not one to step outside my comfort zone, so I look at him and say, “It was nice to see you again. I’ve got to get to the office,” and point my finger back over my shoulder toward my building.

  “Yeah,” he responds, flashing his perfect smile again. “Me too. Have a nice trip. Maybe we'll run into each other again when you get back.” I respond with a smile of my own and wave as I turn to walk to work.

  In a daze, I almost walk past the entrance to my building when I feel tiny droplets of water hit my face. I look up and notice the fountain out front is back on, and the wind is blowing the water toward me. The fountain is usually turned off in the coldest winter months, so it doesn’t freeze over, but hearing it and feeling the water gently spray the air reminds me that spring is finally approaching.

  I'm so distracted when I get on the elevator that I don’t even push the button to my floor. While I stand in the elevator holding my coffee in one hand and my bag in the other, the door opens, and I realize I’m still on the lobby floor. A couple of people enter into the elevator with me, and a lady turns to ask me, “What floor?” and
I respond, “Eight please.”

  Seeing Brady has me flustered, and I need to focus so I can get everything wrapped up in the office and out the door on time this morning. I exit the elevator and walk into my office. Angie is at her desk, filing her nails; without looking up at me, she says, “It’s about time. I was getting ready to call you. Are you ok?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you all packed for your trip today?” she asks.

  “Yes.”

  I glance at my watch: 9:15 am. “Wow… I didn’t realize it was this late already. Sorry!” I tell her and sit down in the chair across from her desk in a huff. She stops filing and looks at me. Then she narrows her eyes and says, “Spill it.” That girl can read me like a book.

  “I saw him. This morning. At the café,” I tell her while taking a sip of my coffee.

  “Him, him?”

  “Yes.”

  She bolts forward and says, “Did you talk to him?”

  “Yes,” I say, and I take another sip of coffee.

  “Oh, my word, Clara! I need more information than a ‘yes’ to every question I ask you! Quit hiding behind that cup and tell me what happened!” she says.

  We notice Ben-the-intern stops and looks at us in surprise, so Angie turns on her professional face. “Miss Willet, we need to discuss some matters in your office, please. I’ll be there in just a second with my pad and pen.” Angie winks, letting me know this conversation needs to move to my office.

  Standing, I return her wink. “Thank you, Angie.”

  A few minutes later, she appears in my doorway and says loud enough for everyone in the office to hear, “I’m here to discuss your business trip, Miss Willet. Shall I close the door?” I laugh at her and motion for her to come inside.

  “Oh my gosh… did you see Ben-the-intern staring us down?” she says as she sits down at my desk.

  Angie knows me up one side and down the other, and sometimes we get lost in our little world. I think it’s one of the reasons she always wants to be so formal when we are working, so people won't think I give her special privileges. Regardless, I think we just broadcast five minutes of drama to the office staff.