Lulu's Loves (23 page)

“It’s beautiful.”

She led me down the hall to show me the other bedroom. When we finally went back downstairs, Matt was waiting to take me to the detached garage and led me around the yard. There was what looked like new, white vinyl fence and an open tiny yard, with one lone oak tree.

It’s perfect.

“I’d like to bring my dad back, so he can look for things I wouldn’t have thought to look for, and ask questions I wouldn’t know to ask.”

“Of course,” Matt said. “You just call and tell us when.”

“Thank you. It’s lovely.”

Driving home I thought about the house. I saw it in my mind and could visualize the things I would do. I found myself feeling excited. I found myself feeling happy. I hadn’t felt happy in a while.

Between all of our schedules, Wednesday was the first opportunity for Dad to return to the house with me. He did the ‘dad snoop’ thing that I knew he would. He opened cabinets, closets, climbed into the attic, looked under the sinks and when all was said and done, he gave me a thumbs up.

We’d talked about money before we came. He gave me an amount to offer. If they countered, he had a back up plan, but it wasn’t necessary.

“Cindy and I talked about this. We got a feeling when you were here that this is your home, that  this is where you begin your new life,” Matt said.

I’d already pre-qualified and thirty days later, I was unlocking the door to my home, to a new future. It was liberating. I had a budget for things I needed; furniture was a must. Basics first, and then I could fill in as I went. I had a plan to paint and have plantation shutters installed before I moved in.

Then it began. I was going to make my mark on 205 West Vickers Street.

Two weeks before Thanksgiving, freshly painted and cleaned, I moved in. I had a bed and dresser, a sofa, TV, and a dining room table. My prized possessions were unpacked and added to the bookcase. It was my biggest accomplishment, my proudest moment. They’d been in my room at Dad’s; I didn’t take them to Robbie’s. He didn’t understand that love, so I kept it to myself. As time passed, I’d add things but for now, this was home.

Thanksgiving came and I proudly served Dad and Keelin roast turkey and vegetables, mashed potatoes with gravy, and rolls. Keelin brought the wine and we shared a lovely evening, topped off with a pumpkin pie that I’d proudly made from scratch.

The Friday after, I began decorating for my first Christmas.

2009

Thrift shop shopping became my favorite past time. Sometimes Keelin went, sometimes Rachael joined me. She hadn’t like Robbie a lot, so she wasn’t around much when we were together. It was nice to have her back in my life.

She didn’t like Jason either. Maybe I need to run potential boyfriends by her in the future.

Mismatched tables and chairs made my living room eclectic. I dug out my sewing machine and made brightly colored pillows which were thrown on the sofa and bigger ones tossed on the floor to lie on to watch TV.

Pictures of my mom, my dad, us as a young family, my dad and me, and me and friends through the years replaced the pictures Cindy and Matt had displayed atop the bookcase. A quilt from Grandma Pritford was tossed on the back of the sofa. Mirrors were hung in a collection above the sofa. My mom’s collection of cookbooks and baskets, that Dad had packed away, were proudly displayed throughout the kitchen.

It was becoming a place that made me want to go home in the evening to see what project I’d tackle next. I learned to repurpose furniture pieces I found. An old china buffet was now an entertainment center. I loved it.

My neighborhood was in a part of town where there were little bars every block or so. Keelin and the crew left Branson’s behind because I wouldn’t go there. Robbie still called, and I didn’t want to be there if he were to show up.

As time passed, we found new places that we loved and often went for happy hour on Fridays after work. New friendships were formed and Rachael joined us. She’d just sent her latest beau packing.

“Do you think something is wrong with me?” she asked, as we walked back to my house after drinks.

“Why on earth would you ask that?” I chuckled.

“Well, I can’t seem to find a keeper, ya know,” she whined.

“You’re talking to the wrong person,” I told her. “I don’t have a man in my life. You’re the keeper. Stop looking; someone will come along. You were with Chuck for a long time. Do you think you compare what you and he shared with the new guys that you meet?”

“I try not to. He was a great guy, and I’m genuinely sad that we didn’t work out. He just wanted more than I was ready for at the time, I mean, he was looking for a basketball team worth of kids. Who plans for that?” she laughed, remembering. “He didn’t even care if it was a co-ed team, he just wanted lots of kids. I had a hard time processing the idea of one.”

“Do you ever hear from him?”

“I did in the beginning; him telling me that he didn’t have to have a ‘Duggers family.’ The thing is, I knew that down the road he
would
want that, and I knew that I didn’t.” She paused, looking my way as though she knew what she was about to say would piss me off.

“I hate when you do that. Just say it,” I snarked.

“Do you still hear from Robbie?”

“Nope. For a while I did, but not any more. I heard that he found someone new, but when I heard who, it wasn’t someone new, at all.” She looked up. “Malayna. I could kick myself in the ass a dozen and ten times for believing him when I first questioned him about her. But that’s all water under a broken bridge that I learned from.”

“Are you ready to explore yet?” she asked, as I was opening the door to the house.

“No. Maybe something is wrong with
me
,” I laughed. “I’m not going to explore at all. When the right one comes along, I hope I’ll know this time.”

“Too bad Keelin’s gay…”

Micah

March 2009

I loved my new life. I spent Friday happy hours at a new place in my neighborhood, Ship Shape, with my friends. Most evenings I walked there. It was a warm spring evening and there was a large group with us this particular Friday. At the bar,
I bumped into a friend of Rachael’s, and we shared small talk.

Micah Flinn was a nice guy. He and Rachael had been friends for a long time. He was a friend of one of her old boyfriends. She suggested several times that I should go out with him, but I wasn’t interested. He was nice. He was a tall, rugged looking, reddish blond with hazel eyes. He was personable, but I wasn’t interested in finding a guy like she was. I didn’t need a man in my life. He approached and we talked about what was going on at the bar.

Finally, I excused myself and told Rachael I was going to go, so I could walk home before it got too late. I’d done it many times. I knew my neighborhood and I felt safe. Shortly after I arrived, there was a knock on the door. I glanced at the clock: 9:52. I padded softly to the door to peek out. I slid the chain lock and turned the deadbolt.

“What’s up?” I asked, when I saw Micah standing there.

“Rachael wanted me to sure you got home all right. It’s late.” He was stammering.

“I did. Thanks,” I replied, praying he’d leave.

Remember to give her shit for this!

“You going to invite me in?” he asked.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” I said with an air of sarcasm. I was annoyed.

“I see. I enjoyed talking to you this evening,” he said, with no effort to move.

“Me, too. We’ll do it again some time…” I began.

“But not now?” he asked, looking in my eyes.

“It’s late. Rain check,” I said, praying again he’d take the hint.

“All right, then.”

The look in his eyes wrecked me. He didn’t move. I backtracked. “Come on in.”

“I’d like that.”

Ugh.

I was aggravated that the notion I didn’t want him to stay escaped him. He was nice and all, but it was late and my fun side was ready for bed.

He followed me to the kitchen. As I got a glass and filled it with ice, I noticed him looking around. Finally, I handed him the soda. “Sorry, I don’t have a beer or something.”

“This is perfect. I don’t drink much. Nice place,” he said.

“Thank you.”

I don’t feel social. Why are you here?

“Thanks for inviting me in. I know it’s late.” Suddenly he seemed sad, grieving sad. He looked up. “I had a call just before you left that my dad died.”

“Micah, I’m so sorry.”

“We weren’t close. That makes it worse. I expected it, but it doesn’t make it easier. He was a smoker for years. He was diagnosed with throat cancer two years ago. He became this angry, bitter recluse. I went to visit every chance I got…” He was rambling and paused. I noticed tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” was the only thing I could think to say. He broke down.

“I just needed to talk to someone, Lulu. Rachael was busy being the social butterfly. There wasn’t anyone else I felt like I could talk to.”

“I’m a good listener, but Micah,” I said feeling somewhat uncomfortable. “We don’t know each other.”

He sat down at my kitchen table, fiddling with the glass. “But I know you,” he said, finally.

His eyes glistened.

Tears? No, it’s pleasure.

I joined him. He reached across the table to take my hand. I hesitated, but his face showed that he needed me to let him.

“You see,” he began, rubbing my knuckles. I looked up and his expression melted my heart. “I’ve learned a lot about you since Rach introduced us. I’m a good listener, too. She told me you’re a bookworm, and that you have the best heart,” he continued. “She told me about growing up with you, and that you are the best best-friend anyone could ask for. I didn’t ask-she loves you so much that talk of you just bubbles out of her.”

“Since we were five,” I said. “Besides my dad, she’s the only one who’s never let me down. Why does she tell you about me?” I wondered aloud.

“She thinks we’d be good friends. I need a friend, Lulu. She thinks you do, too.”

We talked until almost two. It was enjoyable and refreshing. He talked about his dad; a need to express his grief, but we talked about many other things too. I thought about what I’d missed not talking to him sooner, and I hated the thought of him leaving me.

When he got ready to go, he took my hand. “It’s late. I’ve enjoyed our time together. Thank you for inviting me in. I’d like to do this again.”

How did I miss this before?

“Me, too.” I felt a blush kiss my cheeks.

He asked for my number and I gave it to him.

I went to bed thinking of Micah.

Am I suddenly longing for a man’s company again, or had I really enjoyed the time with him as much as I thought?

He called the next evening.

“Hey, Lulu. How was your day?” The question was sweet and genuine. I smiled.

“It was a good day. It’s sweet of you to ask. How are you coping with the loss of your dad?” I couldn’t imagine losing my own.

“Arrangements have been made. He didn’t want a funeral, so we’re going to have a big party to celebrate his life. It’s on Friday.”

He paused as though to gather his thoughts.

“Do you think I could see you on Saturday? Something fun," he suggested.

“I’ll plan on seeing you Saturday.”

“How about ten?”

“In the morning, right?” I snickered.

“Yeah. Lulu. I can't wait to see you,” he said and hung up.

Oh my, what is happening?

The week crawled by. It was one of those weeks where everyone was on edge. They were barky; even Keelin was bitchy. I stayed to myself because I didn’t want the cloud to blow my way. I felt happy.

On Saturday morning, Micah called.

“Good morning. How about we go to Daytona?” he asked.

“That will be great!”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“I’ll be ready,” I told him and suddenly felt delighted to share his company.

He knocked on my door. “Good morning,” he said and grabbed my hand.

We went out the door to an old Jeep. It was a warm March morning as we made the hour and a half drive. Finally, he parked and we got out to walk.

“I love it here,” he said. “It’s a busy place. You can get lost in the bustle and no one notices. Kind of like hiding in plain sight.”

I smiled at the idea. “Did everything go well yesterday?” I asked, hesitantly. I wasn’t sure it was something he’d want to talk about.

“It was fine. My brothers and sisters did a good job, a big Irish shindig. I think the old man would have been happy.” His ruddy cheeks gave way to a smile.

“How many brothers and sisters?” His comment made me ask.

“Five boys and three girls. I'm the youngest.”

“Eight kids? Oh my!” I laughed.

“I already know your gig, just you and your dad. Rachael,” he replied when I raised an eyebrow.

“You know my gig?” I giggled at the expression.

“Your story, you know,” he grinned.

“What do you do, Micah? I don’t know your story,” I inquired.

“I’ve worked in construction for years.”

Inside, I felt snobby when he said it.

Shame on you, Lulu.

I looked at the old Jeep he drove.

He's a carefree spirit.

As though he could read my mind, he began to explain.

“I went to college, but it wasn't my thing. I like working with my hands. Someone needs to be the bricks and mortar, build the foundation, and finish the roofs over people's heads, right?”

“That's a good way to look at it.”

We had lunch and then drove down the beach.

As we headed home, he turned to me. “Can I see you again, Lulu?”

Before I had time to think, my mouth said, “Yes.”

A week passed. I figured he’d changed his mind and finally, on Friday morning, he called. “I know it’s early, but I thought if you’re free we’d go bowling tonight.”

“Bowling?” I giggled. “I haven’t been bowling since Rachael’s sixth birthday party! I’d love to.”

“I’ll go home and shower, and then pick you up around 6:30. We’ll eat hot dogs and cheese fries at the bowling alley.”

“Lovely!” I laughed.

“Sorry I haven’t called. Work has been hectic. We’re working on a huge project,” he explained.

“You don’t have to explain,” I smiled.

“But I want to. I want you to know that I’ve thought about you all week. It was always just too late or too early to call.”

Suddenly this man excited me.

We entered the bowling alley and Micah went to the counter.

“Shoes and a lane please. What size?” he asked turning to me.

“Eight,” I said.

“And a thirteen,” he added.

He laughed when I scrunched my nose watching the guy spray the shoes before he handed them to us. We went to the lane and Micah went looking for bowling balls.

“Try this one,” he said.

As I was checking it, he walked up, whipped the ball down the lane and picked up a spare.

“Nice.”

“That was just a practice ball,” he winked.

I went to the imaginary spot where I thought I should begin. Methodically, I eyed the pins, hefted the ball and began the slow stride to my release spot.

“Gutter ball!” he yelled. “Don’t think about it so hard. Just have fun! Stand back here.”

I moved and began the stride once more. Releasing the ball quickly, I picked the six middle pins up.

“Better!”

“Gosh, I haven’t done this in years!”

Micah took the ball and walked toward the lane. He stopped and turned around to look at me with a huge grin. He whipped the ball between his legs and sent it sailing down the middle of the lane and picked off nine pins.

“See,” he teased. “Have fun!”

We were there for almost four hours. We dined on bowling fare, cheese nachos and hot dogs. We drank beer, and I loved every second of it.

“Oh my goodness, Micah! That was the best fun I’ve had in for-e-ver!” I said, drawing out the word.

“Me, too. I’m enjoying all of this. I’m enjoying you. Are you free next Friday night?”

I didn’t answer right away and he fidgeted. “Is it too soon?”

“No, not at all,” I assured him.

It is soon, but I enjoyed his company, a lot.

On Friday he picked me up around seven and we went to have pizza and beer. He told me about a construction job he was working on, and I told him about my classes that day.

“Is tomorrow morning too soon to see you again?” he asked, as he drove me home.

I turned to look at him. The streetlights added another glow to his already bright face.

“No,” I said.

“Is six too early to pick you up?” he asked with a grin.

“No, six is good,” I smiled, wondering what we would do.

“A.M.” he added.

“Six in the morning?” I was surprised.

His face showed amusement. “We’re going fishing.”

“Fishing? Oh my gosh! The only fishing I have ever done in my life is standing at the seafood counter at the grocery store, deciding which kind would be best,” I laughed.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll go to a spot that I like to go to where the fishin’s good, but there aren’t a lot of people. We’ll get coffee on the way, and I’ll bring lunch.”

At six the next morning, I was waiting when the Jeep pulled into my driveway, totally unprepared for the day ahead. Micah came to the door and smiled hugely when I opened it.