Dot sat on a lounge chair not far from the table, looking at everyone hard at work, still up to her antics.
“So did you all enjoy your swim?” she said, smiling, not really waiting for an answer. “I’m sure Michael enjoyed the view,” she teased.
“Of course I did, it’s a great day. Look at that sky,” he said smiling, knowing very well what she was implying.
Angela felt a little uncomfortable and ran into the cottage, on the pretense of going to get more water. She took as long as she could possibly take. She was going to kill Dot.
When she finally made her way back, reluctantly, Michael was serving up the meat and burgers. She sat as far away from Michael’s seat as she could; which unfortunately left her sitting right next to Dot. She glared at her. Dot gave her a childish grin, quite aware she was irritating her as much as humanly possible. As she helped herself to some salad, Angela wondered if one could go to hell for merely daydreaming of beating and eighty-ish year old woman.
Angela suggested they speak French while eating dinner; after all Michael needed to practice. Wasn’t that why shewas there? Dot didn’t seem impressed. Angela figured Dot couldn’t say anything too embarrassing if she couldn’t speak the language. It was one clever way to shut her up. Angela promised to translate for her as needed. As she enjoyed the perfectly grilled meat, homemade potato salad and gourmet Caesar salad, Angela couldn’t believe that Michael had made all this. Sure, he had the assistance of his sous-chefs Michelle and Eric. Not only was the man kind and gorgeous but he could cook like no tomorrow. He was too good to be true. She could not fathom why on earth his ex-wife would ever leave him.
She looked at him from across the table; he was speaking to Eric about soccer. Angela loved every detail of his face; his eyes, his wide grin, the freckles on his nose, his messy hair. She didn’t realize she was staring at him when he caught her and looked at her; in the same way she had looked at him. A second or two passed, she looked away. On second thought, maybe she should have sat on the other side, where they could not directly look at each other. She could take it a step farther and go eat inside, or maybe leave the place all together.
She wasn’t doing as well as she thought she would. He had a power over her; he didn’t even have to say a word. She was completely in love. She finally admitted to herself, right there, eating potato salad; definitely not the most romantic moment ever… she was in love with another man. Another man? He wasn’t really another man, was he? He was the only one. She wasn’t in love with Robert. She was in love with Michael.
She got up and excused herself, her meal half eaten; she had lost her appetite. Michael asked her if she was ok. She nodded yes and took her plate.
As she cleared her plate in the kitchen, she thought of Robert. He wasn’t the one. She should have been giddy with joy, working on her wedding plans, thinking about Robert and their life together. She wasn’t. She was thinking about Michael. Whetherthe man for her was Michael or not, she would have to break it off with Robert. It wasn’t fair to him. She would have to break off their engagement.
A lump grew in her throat and she could feel the tears come up as she scurried to her cabin. She certainly didn’t want anyone to see her like this, least of all Michael. If he caught her like this, she would probably tell him everything; scare the hell out of him. She was sure he didn’t feel as strongly about her as she did about him; he had told her so. He was just a guy going about his life and here she was, just throwing herself in there. She thought she should definitely back off.
What is wrong with me? I’m thirty-five years old. I should have life figured out by now.
She lay there for a good hour, eating potato chips, staring at the beams on the open ceiling. Normally she would be thinking about how many spiders could be hiding up there, but at that moment all she could think of was the mess that was her life. What would she do next? How would she tell Robert? Would she share her feelings with Michael, or just walk away? Could she even walk away from him?
The knock at the door startled her. She got up to answer and was greeted with a concerned look on Michael’s face. “Are you ok?” he asked.
“I’m sorry. That was kind of rude. I’m fine.”
“It wasn’t rude. I was just a little worried,” he said, relieved.
“I’m really fine.”
“Oh, I get it. You were just trying to get out of cleaning duty,” he joked.
“Exactly.” She laughed. He had a way of making her forget everything.
“We’re having a fire. Are you in the mood for some S’mores?”
“What a stupid question. Of course,” she joked.
And just like that, she was on cloud nine again.
Angela observed Michael teaching Eric the art of building a proper fire, explaining the tent-like structure of scraps of wood he had made, open to let in the oxygen break him and the careful placement of newsprint and logs. Despite his best efforts, the fire wasn’t taking very well and this quite amused Angela who sat there smiling.
“Shut up,” Michael told her. “I’d like to see you try this.”
“I’m just anxious for my S’mores, that’s all.”
“Yes boys, what’s taking so long? Maybe us ladies should take care of it,” Dot added fuel to the fire, sort of speak.
Despite the wait, Angela enjoyed the sight of Michael’s defined back in his tight black sweater as he pushed the logs around trying to get the fire to take. He clearly hadn’t shaved or combed his hair in a few days; his stubble was quite thick, and his hair quite messy. She loved this version of him even more than the regular clean cut Michael.
After much effort, a nice, semi impressive fire warmed their toes. They sat around, roasting marshmallows and pressing them between graham wafers and chunks of chocolate. When she bit into hers, Angela was in heaven. If there was a perfect moment; this was it; warmed by the fire, sitting next to Michael and enjoying a down to earth delicacy.
With her resolution to break it off with Robert, she didn’t feel quite as guilty about the emotions she was having, and she gave herself permission to have them. The sun was setting and she hadn’t quite been bothered by the bugs yet.
Yes, a perfect moment.
