Page 68 of The Auction
“It’s a corsage,” he said. “Give me your hand.”
I did and he slipped the white orchid with baby’s breath over my right wrist.
“It’s nice.”
“A birthday girl should have flowers,” he said. He cupped my face in his hands and stared down at me like he had a hundred things to say. Finally, he landed on. “Let’s go. We’re going to be late.”
It was so romantic.
We took his truck and any time we lost with my hair straightening attempts, he made up for. He was taking us to a fancy steak house in Jefferson and I was so nervous I didn’t even know how I was going to eat anything. But because it was my special birthday dinner, I was going to try real hard.
We didn’t talk much on the ride there and when he pulled up into the parking lot he told me to wait where I was. He circled the truck, opened my door and offered me his hand to help me out.
Then he held onto that hand as he led us into the restaurant.
All his fears about losing our reservation did not come to fruition and we sat in a booth across from one another, with a big menu for each of us. There was a white linen tablecloth, silverware wrapped up in a white cloth napkin, and a candle in the middle of the table that I thought smelled like vanilla.
I had no clue what to do with my hands. I wanted to siton them so he wouldn’t see me fidgeting, because this was by far the nicest place I’d ever been to in my life.
I’d explored the internet a lot. I never wanted to be one of those rubes who grew up on a farm and that was all I ever knew. I watched videos of Paris, Rome, and New York. I took virtual tours of Seattle, because for some reason, that was the place I thought I would live one day. My phone was now my window into the world, but sitting in this restaurant, the conversations muted all around us, the seats of the booth deep and cushioned, it felt like I fell into another universe.
My throat was tight so I focused on the flower at my wrist.
“Take a breath, baby.”
“What?” I huffed out.
“You look nervous,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. I was tempted to tell him this was not a place where elbows on the table was permissible, I didn’t think.
“I’m not,” I lied.
“Okay. So you can drink now. What’s it going to be? Wine? A beer? A cocktail? But know, I’m not letting you get drunk tonight.”
“How come? Lots of people who turn twenty-one get drunk. It’s a rite of passage.”
“Hmm. Because I want a make out session later, and we can’t do that if you’re drunk.”
Make out sessions.That’s what he called them. Sometimes in the morning after breakfast. Mostly after dinner while we were watching TV together.
He’d put a halt to getting each other off. It was either move back into his bedroom if I wanted more orgasms, or we would both do without.
But making out was just some fun for both of us and he didn’t see the harm.
I suppose I didn’t either, other than it usually left me frustrated. But the frustration was starting to become something I was looking forward to. Probably because I knew he was frustrated, too and there was a certain satisfaction in that.
“You’ve never made out with a drunk girl?” I asked him, even as a busboy came over to fill our glasses with water.
“Your server will be with you shortly,” he said, before he disappeared.
“I’ve made out with too many drunk girls. It’s usually sloppy as hell,” he said. “Two drinks. That’s your max. Choose wisely.”
It was funny, but when I was thinking about this night, (and I’d been thinking about this night nonstop for weeks), I wasn’t really thinking about the whole being able to drink in public. It was more the idea of doing something I’d always thought about as a girl growing up.
Going on an actual date.
I wasn’t even sure why. Five, six years ago, I didn’t think there would be any kind of end to my life with Herb. Still, there had always been fanciful ideas about what dating a cute guy would mean. What holding his hand would feel like. Butterflies in my stomach.
“Did you see that gash on the rooster I told you about?” Creed said. “I’m thinking that fucking cock’s got an ego bigger than he can handle with some of those chickens.”
