Girls Night Out, Part Two

Girls Night Out, Part Two

Carol’s car turned out to be a fairly normal looking car. At least to me. It was that sort of blue-grey looking sort of non color that I see all too often. I haven’t owned a car in over 15 years, and don’t pretend to keep abreast of what’s what these days. It was two door, so it looked borderline sporty, or something. Overall, it looked like a nice single mom’s car.

I’m just grateful to get away from “the gang” and to be able to spend a little quiet time with Carol. So for me, anything above a moped is a blessing. Sure, I love the girls, and I’m really glad I got to see them, but I’ve also had my fill for a while.

The seats are covered in a deep blue-ish fabric, but very comfortable. Her radio is tuned to the local adult soft rock station. All songs everyone knows, and for the most part songs that don’t get on anyone’s nerves. Right now, we’re hearing a woman, who sounds familiar singing a song that sounds familiar, but I’m unable to put a name to either. Modern radio is something else I don’t pretend to keep up with. I’m pretty much stuck in the 80’s when it comes to radio stuff.

As we pull away from the curb Carol’s maternal instincts kick in as she asks, “are you hungry, do want to stop someplace to eat?”

“I’m fine, but if you’re hungry, feel free to stop”, I reply trying to sound agreeable. It’s two people who have just met playing the “where do you want to go? Anywhere, where do you want to go” game.

“Do you think Zippy’s would be too crowded for just coffee, or something?”, she presses the issue.

Obviously, she wants to stay out longer and I take this a good thing, so I continue to be agreeable and answer, “let’s find out. Coffee sounds good right about now. Plus, it’s perfect ‘let’s talk some more’ stuff”.

She chuckles as she answers, “Yeah, and it’s easier than either of us having to decide whether or not I should come up to your apartment.”

“Truedat. I was going to ask, but I was afraid I’d be asking one thing too many, too soon.”, I confessed.

“Me too . I’m not ready to go home, but I’m also not sure I’m ready to come home, if you know what I mean.”, she answered honestly.

“Well put. Let’s see if we can just have some coffee and we’ll tackle the hard questions later.”, I reply as I smiled at the clever way she turned a phrase. I always appreciate that, but not enough people do it. She’s scoring brownie points, and probably doesn’t even know it.

“I know you were kind of anxious to get away from there, but I’m glad AC invited me, and I’m glad you were there. It was fun.” More honesty. More brownie points.

“Me too. I had fun with the girls and although I was very skeptical about meeting you, I’m really glad I did”. Trying to match her honesty.

Five minutes, or so later, we whip into the parking lot of Zippy’s, a local family restaurant with several locations around the islands. We easily find a place for her car. There’s no line out the back door, so it looks like we’re in luck. Often, this place can be packed late at night since it’s open 24/7. It’s early enough, we’ve probably beat the late night crowd.

We’re seated right away in a booth where it looks like we can continue talking and getting to know each other. She orders coffee and a slice of apple pie. I opt for coffee, solo.

“So, you’re sure your daughter is okay?”, I ask. I’m somewhat genuinely concerned, but more about her parenting skills than I am about her daughter. Looking under the hood, so to speak.

“She’s fine. I called her just before we left, while you were in the bathroom.”, she answered.

“Cool. I’m not sure I’d know whether or not to worry, or not worry about a sixteen year old home alone.”, I tell her.

“I know what you mean. She’s a good kid. I always worry, but I’m almost never concerned. For a sixteen year old, she makes pretty good decisions.” She says.

Excellent answer. With a mom who communicates this well, it’s no wonder the girl makes good decisions.

“Are all the kids on that year around school schedule these days?”, I ask in complete ignorance. I’m actually curious about what it’s like being a single parent, but I’m also trying to show her I’m interested in things other than how the fastener on her pants works.

“I think so. I don’t know about all the private schools, but I think pretty much everybody is on that schedule now.”, she answers before taking a sip of her water.

We continue talking about mundane daughter and family stuff, from which I garner lots of good insight into the woman. Very nice, indeed. Bright, articulate, without sounding stuffy. Hell, she’s even kinda cute. Okay, she’s beyond kinda cute. She’s very attractive. All of this, and I’m starting to wonder why she’s apparently available. I’m half way waiting for “Ms. Hyde” to rear her ugly head.

Our coffees and her pie are delivered. Her pie looks good and she confirms it’s just what she was in the mood for. Maybe I need to learn to bake. Then, she asks, “so, if you don’t mind my asking. What happened to you? Your health and all.”

“I don’t mind at all. Just understand it may take longer than one piece of pie to tell you.”, I chuckle back to her.

I took a long, deep breath and explained to her how I came to be the way I am. I took my time and made sure I didn’t leave out any of the gory details. It’s not a fun story to tell, nor I would imagine to listen to, but she was very attentive and even asked some very good questions along the way.

Half an hour or so later, I finished up with, “and that’s how I got here from there.”

A serious look full of concern had come over her lovely face. She was leaning forward, her elbow resting on the table with her arm extended up to support her chin.

“Sounds miserable. I don’t mean any offense, but it just sounds like quite an ordeal. Especially when it sounds like you went through the bulk of if by yourself.”, she said reflectively.

I nodded as I answered, “I had lots of good help when I needed it. Especially from AC, bless her heart, but you’re right; day in and day out it was mostly me waiting for something else to go wrong, or stop working.”

“How did you pass the time?”, she wanted to know.

“I typed a lot. Mostly diary stuff. Sometimes I’d type about learning software programs. I really dug into things like Outlook and Access and even Word. It killed a lot of time and kept my mind off the bad stuff.”

“Denial got me into trouble, but it has also helped me get through it. Even to this day. I’m a little too good at being able to ignore almost anything until I absolutely have to deal with it.” I told her in true-confessions style.

“I suppose it’s that, or let it drive you nets”, she replied trying to wrap her head around it all.

I laughed as I answered, “I’m already nuts. No need to go any further down that road, so I just kinda let everything run its own course. I mean, I do what I can, then I just let it go and try not to worry about it. It works most of the time.”

She related a couple of horror stories about bad health things in her family in a nice, but conciliatory sort of way. I guess she understands misery love company, or so they say. I don’t wish what has happened to me on anybody.

We’ve both had two refills on our coffee and her pie has been reduced to crumbs, and she eventually got every one of them. Not from gluttony, but just from absent mindedly keeping her hands busy.

She has beautiful hands. I’m not sure why, but I almost always notice. Sometimes I’ll notice a woman’s hands before I notice her overall figure.

Just for the record, I did notice Carol’s overall figure. Almost perfect. A grown woman’s figure, but trim, taught and firm in all the right places.

“Now, I’m going to be awake all night.” She giggled as she looked at her empty coffee cup.

Not sure what she meant, and not wanting to over react in my heightened caffeine induced state, I laughed softly when I answered, “I almost never drink real coffee. I’ll be bouncing off the walls until Tuesday.”

She chuckled as I continued, “what time is it, anyway?”

She checked her watch, then replied, “almost 11:00. Not bad.”

I nodded slowly as I contemplated my next move. We’ve have reached the crossroads of the evening. She’s obviously not in a hurry to get home, and I haven’t invited a woman back to The Crib in years…yes, years, so I’m not sure what I’d do with her if she said yes. I’m praying it’s like riding a bicycle, or swimming. Both ideas seem like really bad puns in light of the moment, but I can’t help the way my mind works.

I decide since we’ve both been way more honest with each other than we’ve needed to be so far, I’ll see if I can milk this cow one more time (Another bad pun. I’m on a roll, or something), so I just sort of blurt out, “I’m not very good at this, so I’m just gonna ask. Do you want to come up to my place for a little while, or have you had enough of me for one night?”

She laughed out loud as she answered, “I was afraid you’d had enough of me prying into your personal life. I’d love to talk some more, if you’re up for it.”

“I’m probably up for days, so sure, I’m in a perfect condition for more talking…and more talking…and more talking.”, I answered matching her laugh.

She gathers up her purse and snags the check off the table while she looks at me with a look that says, “don’t even thing about it”, while her mouth says firmly, but nicely, “I got this”.

I smiled with an open moth and big eyes while I held both hands up as if begging her not to shoot me and replied, “thanks, huh”.

We laugh, she paid the bill and I resisted the urge to sprint to the car, thanks to all the coffee.