The Sex Education of M.E. (8 page)

Seeing Rod had renewed so many memories and a few old feelings. He was the one that got away, in some respects. When summer ended, so did the relationship, especially when he had to return to his home in Florida. But, he lived here now and the possibility of exploring who he was presently intrigued me. Rod was safe. He wasn't a random MatchMe hook-up. He wasn't a friend of a friend that my friend tried to set me up with. I knew Rod. Or at least, in the past I had.

We chatted easily while sharing ice cream. He told me more about his aunt's death and his inheritance from her. His new job was with the firm of Becket, Bennett, and Walters as a corporate attorney. He’d been married briefly. He was easy to listen to, animated in his storytelling, drawing me into his experiences. Here's what he didn't do: He didn't ask about me, and my mind drifted at one point when I heard the burning rubber screech of a muscle-sounding truck in the parking lot outside the window.

“Damn kids,” Rod scowled, shaking his head in disgust.

“So no children for you,” I teased.

“I never thought I wanted them, until it risked my marriage. Then I begged for one. It was a pity child,” he said sadly. “She got pregnant to save the marriage, but when she miscarried I took it as a sign. It was time to part ways.”

My heart ached. I'd always felt fortunate to have my children: two healthy daughters. I wanted more, but Nate didn't.
There's enough estrogen in this house as it is
, he had teased. Not able to guarantee him a boy wasn't worth the risk to him. Rod watched me while these thoughts swirled in my head.

“So tell me about you?” he finally asked, and I suddenly felt tired. How could I possibly shove twenty years into one ice cream shop? Smiling slowly, he interrupted my thoughts.

“You know what, why don't I take you to dinner and you can tell me all about you?” His green eyes twinkled and the idea of being asked out without having to proposition someone, like a certain rugged-looking man on a patio bar, was refreshing. The possibility of being wanted warmed my insides, and I agreed to dinner on Thursday.

So there I stood in front of my full-length mirror, dressed in clothes I might have worn to work because I didn't know how to dress for a date. I didn't own flirty, fun clothes, as my daughters generously pointed out to me when I asked for help. I had casual work clothes, slumming at home shorts, and an informal sundress which I wore to meet Merek, who hadn't called me since our run-in at the grocery store.
Whatevs
, as my girls would say, but I didn't feel so cavalier about the situation. It was me who walked away, and yet I'd sadly hoped Merek would chase.
Stupid
, I reminded myself. He was too good looking. He probably dated young girls like that waitress at the patio bar. He was out of my league with his polished suit in the grocery store late at night. Not knowing what he did for work, I imagined he must be some high-powered business man. It was the aura he gave off. Take charge.

As I stared at myself, one more time in the mirror, my phone rang. Fumbling to find it under a pile of rough notes on the nightstand, I missed the call. When it was finally in my hand, it binged a text.

- It's ME.

I had to giggle.

- Hey, ME, it's ME, too.

I laughed harder then realized what a dork I sounded like.

- It's Merek Elliott, actually.

I sighed as he obviously didn't appreciate my silliness. Hovering over the keys, wondering how to respond that would rectify sounding like a child, a message came through instantly.

- Want to take a ride?

Oh, my God
, but I laughed in spite of myself. The euphemism wasn't going to go away.

- Got an itch to scratch?

What felt like an eternity passed, while I once again cursed myself for trying to sound witty, and failing. I didn't understand text messaging. It was part of the reason I had limited social media experience. I loved human conversation. I couldn't interpret what was behind a screen.

- I do, but this is a bona fide offer.

I could have gone all kinds of places with the
bone
in that phrase, but I was trumped into silence.
Was Merek asking me out?
My answer came in another text.

- How about a boat ride on the lake?

My head shot up to glance out my bedroom window. The evening was glorious, blue skies, with a lazy setting summer sun. I hadn’t ever been on a boat ride on Lake Michigan, as crazy as that sounded considering I lived here my whole life.

- I…
My finger hovered.
I’d love to
, I instantly wanted to respond, but a sinking feeling told me I couldn’t respond so easily. Erasing the letter I, instead I typed:
When?

- Now?

My shoulders sagged as I assumed this would be the timing. Merek appeared to live in the moment; I was a planner. The only way to make it day-by-day and week-by-week after Nate’s death had been to schedule small milestones. Grocery store on Monday. Laundry on Saturday. While I’d lived by the calendar previous to his passing, it wasn’t the same after he was gone. I wanted to be spontaneous. I wanted to say yes.

- I can’t. I'm so sorry.

- Hot date?

Envisioning the smirk of his lips, I smiled weakly. Yes, after twenty years with one man, and one year alone, two men had asked me out for the same night. What are the odds of that happening? Unfortunately, only one of them had my curiosity. I didn’t know how to answer, other than honestly.

- Yes, actually, I do.

The silence that followed was endless, but the message was loud and clear. When there was no further response, I finally dropped the phone on the bed. The doorbell rang, and I took one last look at my phone before powering it to silent and exiting my room for my “hot” date.

Rod took me to a local mom-and-pop Thai restaurant. He produced a bottle of red wine while I scanned the menu for something mild to eat. I didn’t have the heart to tell him; I didn’t like Thai food. I didn’t typically try new things. I wasn’t a risk-taker like that. I wanted to be, though. This whole night was a risk. If I was going to jump into dating and new experiences, trying different foods had to be on my virtual menu. Spontaneous had to be a theme. So I ordered the chicken ginger and sipped the dry red wine that Rod offered as I began a narrative of my life over the past twenty years.

Marriage. Children. Career. I had wanted so many things over the years, which included for better or worse, richer or poorer, until death did us part. The wine was making me melancholy as I listened to my life in rewind. I defined it by things I did as a stay-at-home mother before returning to work, then continued to define it by the accomplishments of my children. Listening to myself, I realized it hadn’t been about me, but about them: my girls. This list should have made me proud. Raising amazing daughters was praiseworthy. Returning to work as a college professor was notable. Twenty years of marriage involved dedication, and yet it didn’t seem like enough. Listening to my life pour forth like the wine, I bored myself with what I heard.

Rather, it was what I wasn’t saying that surprised me. Where was the excitement? Where was the spontaneity? What happened to all the promises made for travel, companionship, and adventure? The wine soured in my throat as I had one of those moments of dismal regret for what I hadn’t done compared to what I had. The conversation slowed while we ate, and I determined I’d talked Rod into boredom. We fell silent.

“Remember when we went to the condo?” he asked, interrupting the gentle scraping of forks against plates, and the quiet process of chewing spicy poultry.

The duplex had been owned by the McCarthys, a family who lived next to Rod’s aunt. Reese was their son, roughly the same age as us, and his family rented the home to families visiting Chicago for a one week stay. There was a lull between the Saturday departure, and the Sunday arrivals, and it led to Reese using the place for private parties. Rod and I had gone to a summer bash celebration. People branched off into separate rooms for whatever nefarious purpose. Eventually for Rod and I, it had resulted in teenage sex. It was a strange memory to disrupt my rambles. My mind wandered at the simplicity of young decisions, drifted to the difficulty as an adult to be so carefree and careless, then skipped to Merek. Sex only. It seemed simple enough. It certainly was spontaneous. Rod’s mention of the past was an attempt to reminisce about our youth, but my body knew it could only live in the present.

“We were so young,” Rod stated, a bemused look on his face as he pushed his Praram Chicken from side to side on the dish. “You were so beautiful,” he said quietly before his head shot up. “You still are. Beautiful, that is,” he offered with a smile, and it warmed my insides to be complimented. Nate hadn’t been the complimenting type.

Maybe I could do this. Sweet talk and a nice smile could lead places, right? But thoughts of fresh fruit innuendos and the moans of desire outweighed what sat before me. Rod was safe ground, if I wanted to step back into the past. Merek was an unchartered path, if I wished to hike forward.

“Thank you. I remember you being beautiful then, too,” I laughed. He had been beautiful: sandy blond hair, green eyes and a tempting smile on a solid, growing body. Rod looked at me with held breath before I added, “And, of course, you’re still very attractive now.” He exhaled at the comment, smiled sheepishly, and returned to his chicken. And that was the end of the flirting. It hit me like the glass of ice water before me. I didn’t want to go backward. My relationship with Nate had been one of awkward flirtation in the beginning. While I couldn’t recall with clarity what that was like, I knew we had to have begun somewhere. Through time our relationship grew to one of comfort. We were compatible and structured. Being with someone like Rod would be similar to Nate. A spark that fizzled instead of a flame that burned hot. Merek was a flame. More like a bonfire, and I wished to dance around the potential inferno. That was a risk I longed to take.

A sudden bout of stomach over-activity from chicken ginger was the excuse I used, and asked Rod to cut our date short. I was surprised when he did, and then asked for a second date.