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5
Blotting the red stain on my lips, I looked once more in the mirror and questioned why I was actually going on a blind date with Tommy Esposito. It was years since I’d been on a date with someone, and I was only excited about wearing my new pink heels and getting my mom off my back. When I tossed the tissue into the waste bin, I reveled in the click clack of my heels against the hardwood floor as I crossed my condo to the living room for my coat and purse.
I paused at the fireplace, reminding myself to ask Benji about the friend who could deliver some firewood. Rhys’s framed print balanced at an angle on the floor next to the fireplace, unsure of its ultimate resting place. The vibrant shades of green and violet captured a photograph of some foreign landscape I’d only ever imagine. Tapping my toes on the floor, I reached for my phone and snapped a picture of the print.
Me: Good way to spend $100.
And it was. All proceeds from that purchase were going to a nonprofit helping impoverished children around the world. It was hard to dislike Rhys after my internet research, and the fact I used his $100 to buy his artwork, so I figured I could at least change his contact in my phone to something less abrasive.
Rhys: I’m honored you like that one, yet I can’t help but focus on that woman in the pink heels you’ve captured in the reflection. What’s her name?
Me: That’s me, you weirdo.
Rhys: Let me zoom in.
Me: You’re so gross. I’m returning this picture.
Rhys: Let’s talk later. I have a date tonight.
Feeling my heart flutter and drop, I had a hard time labeling how I felt in response to his message. I’d invested some messed up emotional energy into these text messages and… I think I enjoyed talking to him.
Me: Good for you. I hope she doesn’t give you a disease.
Rhys: I’ll send you a hammer and nail to hang that print. Meanwhile, I must be honest with you…
Watching the dots of his response flicker on the screen left me uneasy.
Me: You’re a fraud?
Rhys: You’re beautiful and your date’s one lucky man. I’m just a message away if he doesn’t treat you well.
My laughter echoed around me, surprised and comforted at Rhys’s gesture. I trusted him just an ounce more than his brother, but nobody else had threatened Tommy Esposito while calling me beautiful, so I let the smile on my face last a little longer as I locked up and headed into the chilly night.
The sidewalks in Chelsea filled with people coming and going, and I wondered how many were on a blind date, or how many were pen-pals with their sister’s fiancé’s brother, or even how many became squashed by their mom’s guilt trips which made them go on their stupid blind date to begin with.
When I arrived at the fancy restaurant just a few blocks from home, I waited outside for at least ten minutes. The trembling in my bare legs made me cave and go inside, quickly being ushered to a table my mom and her friend reserved for us. Another ten minutes passed, and I thought maybe I had the wrong time, the wrong place, the wrong day. In fact, I had made the wrong decision. Caving to my mom out of guilt was pathetic, but I didn’t want to waste the impatient server’s time so I ordered a glass of merlot when he came back.
Between sips, I grew increasingly irritated with Tommy Esposito and wondered who he thought he was trying to stand me up. Did he take one look at me and turn away because I wasn’t the Valentino daughter he expected? Maybe I shouldn’t have let it bother me as much, but the whole thing was humiliating. When I took out my phone to call my mom, an impulse consumed me and I couldn’t help but think back to Rhys’s compliment, even if I didn’t really know him.
Me: A message away?
Rhys: What happened?
Too embarrassed to respond, something about knowing I’d only see Rhys a handful of times in life allowed me to type a reply.
Me: How’s your date?
Rhys: Turn on your location and I’ll tell you in a few minutes.
The server came to me for the third time, a look of pity on his boyish face, so I finally ordered a salad just to keep him occupied. It was almost eight, which meant Rhys replied in the middle of his night.
Me: Why?
He didn’t answer, so I turned on my location and smiled at the server when he brought my food. Flipping my phone over every few minutes without my date showing up, imagining Rhys on his date and too busy to reply, I felt pathetic.
I lost my appetite while tracing my fork through the pile of lettuce and vegetables. Glancing around the restaurant, I thought back to college when I had no problem eating alone, not caring about anyone’s perception, but I’d been stood up this time and that was awkward as heck. Trying to lift a tomato dripping with oil to my mouth, I paused with it above my plate when someone’s hand curved around my shoulder.
“So I can join you,” he whispered into my ear from behind. His warm breath on my skin, the soft murmur of his voice, consumed my skin with a shiver that left my heart in my throat. The tomato fell, splashing oil onto the white tablecloth.
