Embracing You, Embracing Me (27 page)

There were a few unopened boxes in the
dining area, and I remembered that he had mentioned during dinner that he had
moved into his apartment only a few months ago. Standing smack in the middle of
the dining room was an ironing board that I imagined he used every morning as
he prepared for work.

Although there was quite a bit of clutter
spread out, the place was generally clean, and as I stepped further inside, I
saw that the kitchen was spotless. In my mind, regular ironing and an
immaculate kitchen didn’t equal your everyday bachelor. He obviously cared
about cleanliness and appearance.

I peeled off my coat and made myself at
home on his printed futon while he put the movie on. We agreed on an older Tarantino
film because it was one that I had never seen before.

NICO:
She chose the darker Tarantino film over what I consider a ‘chick
flick’, which surprised me.

Watching her watch the movie, was hilarious
For more than a quarter of it she had her hands over her eyes with her fingers
splayed apart so that she was still actually watching the more gruesome scenes.
She kept biting her bottom lip and clutching her hands together, even during
the quieter more intense shots.

I’ve seen the movie before, and though it’s
one of my favorites I have to admit that watching it with her was immensely
more enjoyable.

When the credits started rolling he laughed
and said, “Do you watch all movies with your hands over your face?”

I laughed with him. “No, just Tarantino
films. I don’t do well with gratuitous violence.”

“Well then why did you want to watch that
one as opposed to the other? I gave you the option.”

“I love Tarentino though. He has the
quirkiest characters and has the ability to make a scene intense with nearly no
action.”

We bantered back and forth, arguing about
movies.

Nico reached out and lightly brushed his
finger up and down my cheek as I ranted about my inability to grasp the
convoluted plot of the David Lynch film,
Lost Highway.
I stopped
mid-sentence and looked into his face, suddenly forgetting what I had been
talking about.

He circled his palm around the back of my
neck and pulled me in. I went willingly, eager to see if the spark we had
started in his truck, weeks before, was still there.

It was, and flared up instantly, as if it
had been simmering there all along, just waiting for the next time we threw
fuel on the fire.

Nico gently eased me back onto the futon,
exploring my neck with his mouth.

I clutched his hair in my fists and urged
him closer.

His tongue flicked at my collarbone and my
body responded eagerly to his, but my mind was not ready to toss caution to the
wind.

I gathered my wits and regained control of
the situation, gently shoving back as I sat up and brushed my fingers through
my hair. “We should stop before things get out of hand. I should probably be
going,” I sputtered, nervous and flustered.

Nico leaned in, and kissing my neck again
murmured, “What are talking about? Things aren’t getting out of hand. They are
just as they should be.”

I nearly succumbed to his ploys, but was
scared to take that step. He had no idea what he was getting himself into by
getting involved with me. I figured I had better let him know. “Listen, I
really enjoyed myself tonight, but I think that it’s only fair to tell you that
I’m not looking to get involved right now. I’m pretty screwed up in the head
and it wouldn’t be right to lead you on without you knowing that.” My heart was
hammering in my chest, pulsating throughout my limbs and I tensed up, waiting
to see if he would back off and give me the space I was requesting.

He pulled back while I sighed and regained
my composure. After a few silent moments, he cut into my thoughts, “We don’t
have to think about our level of involvement at this point, Roshell, but I’m
not going to deny that I like you and want to get to know you more.” I
appreciated his blatant honesty.

I shook my head and closed my eyes. “Trust
me. You don’t want to get to know me. I have managed to screw up a lot of
things in the short amount of time that I have been a quote, unquote, adult.” I
put both hands up, hooking my fingers in the quote marks sign, “I am a walking
catastrophe and advise you to keep your distance.”

“Well, we all have our own issues that we
have to reconcile and try to work out. Why don’t we just agree to get to know
each other a little more and leave it at that, with no expectations?” He didn’t
let me answer though. He kept talking, “So why don’t you clue me in a little as
to why you think that you’re ‘a walking catastrophe?” he mimicked my earlier
comment, diffusing my attempt at melodramatics.

I debated it for a minute then decided that
the best way to get him to turn in the other direction was to be brutally honest
and lay it all out on the table for him. I knew that once he heard my story he
would turn his back and never look back. So I spoke in a calm, disengaged
voice, telling him of my childhood and how I developed a skewed perspective on
men and how I never even knew my father. I spoke as if telling a tale rather
than my personal experience.

Even though it was uncomfortable, I kept my
voice monotone and told him about Erin. I didn’t go into detail, but the
message was conveyed. I wanted to stop there but couldn’t. I had to tell my
whole story. So I told him about my relationship with Gabriel and how I had
continually pushed him away every time that he had dared to ask more from me. I
admitted that rather than facing his expectations, I had chosen to move to
another State, without even a backwards glance or the courtesy to tell him. I
shamelessly described how I had wanted to ‘play house’ and married at age
eighteen with a baby on the way, only to discover that I was more of his parent
than his wife. I told him that I felt like a failure, but was so in love with
my baby that I could never regret it.

I pushed on to describe the unique events
that led to my reunion with Gabriel and how it had seemed that maybe we would
finally pave a future together. How it still hurt to admit that I never once
told Gabriel my true feelings and had continued to keep him at arms length, my
stubborn ways and destructive fears forever determining my actions. Then I
described how my world had been turned upside down with that one fateful phone
call, and that I had tried to numb out the pain those first few months by
drinking myself into oblivion and making choices that I would later regret.

I wrapped up my brash, self-effacing
monologue with a simple statement. ”I’m just now coming out of the fog of those
years. I can’t invite complications or deviations. I need to stay focused on
raising my daughter.”

I felt spent, raw and exposed by the time I
was done. I looked at him with a bland stare and waited for his response. His
own expression had maintained neutral throughout my speech.

He met my gaze and his tone was just as
neutral. “That’s a lot of baggage,” he said without inflection. “It’s gonna
take a real man to face a history like yours.” Then he switched the subject on
a dime, unaffected or un-amused by my story.

“So, do you want to go to the zoo this
weekend?” he asked.

I blinked. “The zoo?” I repeated stupidly.

He stood up and turned off the television,
breaking up the serious nature of our interaction. “Yeah, it’s supposed to warm
up a bit and have some sun breaks this weekend. We could show Marissa the baby
elephant that was born last fall.” He stood there, his stance wide, his thumbs
hooked casually in his pockets.

To say I was shocked would be an
understatement. Nico had not only swallowed my entire story gracefully and in
one sitting, but he was asking me on another date and wanted to bring Marissa
with us.

I was speechless. “Okay,” I managed. I
stood up and scooped up my coat feeling completely off balance.

When I walked to the door, I felt confused,
unsure of myself. Nico followed and helped me slip into my black pea coat. Then
he grabbed both sides, up high near the collar and pulled me close, landing a
quick closed- mouth kiss before bidding me goodnight and gently shoving me out
the door.

I was dazed, still trying to gather my wits
and regain my footing in the sudden change of dynamics. Before I could gain
composure or basic thought comprehension, I was walking toward my car, my head
in a fog with plans for a trip to the zoo with Marissa and the intriguing Nico.

What in the heck had just happened? I
wondered.

NICO:
It doesn’t take a genius to realize that opening up the way she did
had cost her. I’m sure it was her way of testing me out, like a scare tactic or
something.

Of course I’m a little leery about getting
involved with someone who is clearly struggling with their past, but I can’t
help but think that she will be worth it.

The trip to the zoo was the perfect idea
for our second date. The weather warmed up significantly by Saturday, and we
were able to see most of the animals as they came out of their hiding spots to lounge
in and soak up the rays of sun.

It was only March, so there was still a
cool breeze that would roll along as a reminder that winter wasn’t quite
through with you yet, but our hooded sweatshirts did the job of keeping us warm
while we tromped around the grounds.

Marissa was delighted with every creature
she came across, asking both Nico and me a barrage of questions for each
exhibit, but the one that tickled her most was the Siamang Monkeys. One
particularly adorable male monkey spotted Marissa, swung down from his tree
perch, and ambled to the window where she had her little face pressed. The two
of them sat quietly observing each other, nose to nose, with only the pane of
glass between them.

We watched their silent interaction for ten
minutes, bemused at how taken the two were with each other. Then a loud group
of young children approached with their frustrated mother screaming after them.
I took Marissa’s hand and coaxed her to the next exhibit.

By the time we were back in Nico’s pickup
truck we were all exhausted, but it was a good exhaustion. It was the kind of
tired you get from spending the day laughing and playing with people you care
about; the kind of day that I needed.

Marissa, already slack faced with her head
drooped to the side was fast asleep in her booster seat. I turned toward Nico
as he skillfully negotiated the truck into the evening traffic. “Thank you
Nico,” I said. “We needed that. We had a great day!”

Nico checked his side mirrors then his
rearview mirror before catching a glance my way. “You’re welcome, and thank you
girls, for going with me. I haven’t been to the zoo in years, it was fun.”

The following weekend, we went to the
movies and took a walk down by Capital Lake afterward. The weekend after, Nico
took Marissa and me for a drive up in the mountains where we found a nice
clear-cut overlooking a deep ravine, and enjoyed a quaint picnic lunch.

I noticed that I was thinking of Nico
during the day at work, every morning when I first awoke, and every evening as
I drifted to sleep, and wondered if he was feeling the same about me.

A small part of me felt guilty about moving
forward in life, no longer so despondent about my loss. I pondered and worried
over whether my new feelings were an insult to Gabriel’s memory. Mostly, I was
hopeful and grateful that I was feeling the wonderful emotions of love again.

One Friday evening after Graham picked up
Marissa, I was blasting my Alanis Morrisette CD while applying the finishing
touches to my makeup before going out with Nico.

Sharing the bathroom with Rosie as she also
prepared for a night out, we were both vying for the mirror, like we had done
so often over the years.

I started when I heard a knock at our front
door, jabbing mascara in my eye and swore under my breath. He was early. With a
snap of my powder compact, I ran my tongue across my front teeth and bid Rosie
goodbye, promising to call if plans evolved and I decided to stay out for the
night.

One of my workmates was throwing a party at
her house, and had invited both Nico and me. Neither one of us had any
inclination to stay for very long. We were eager for a night of privacy, but
figured it wouldn’t hurt to make a small appearance early on.

Nico had made it clear that he wanted me to
stay the night at his place, and though I was nervous I felt that we were both
ready for that next step.

Though we arrived early, the party was in
full swing. Nico and I parted ways, socializing in different circles, and I was
truly enjoying how unencumbered I felt, no longer weighed down with angst. But
as the evening progressed I grew anxious to leave, hoping that he and I would
be able to carry on with our after-party plans. Drink in hand I walked around
the rambler in search of his deep voice. I found him standing in front of the
kitchen sink, alone. Just as I walked in, he tossed something into his mouth
and, chased it with a large glass of water. “Are you feeling okay? Is that
Tylenol?” I enquired, but something in the back of my mind knew better.