An Indigo Bunting

"Can I buy you lunch?" I asked as we got back to our cars.

"Sure," she smiled, "where to?"

I knew of a little restaurant out in the country not too far away. Or one used to be there. "Just follow me," I said. Sure enough, I found it. Sophie was right behind me the whole way. Lovie was a little pissed that I left her in the car with the windows cranked down just enough for her not to escape.

We both ordered tuna and egg salad sandwiches on whole wheat and decided to split a plate of fries. We both sat down with cans of Coca-Cola and straws in our hands.

"I'm a teacher," she said, "grade four."

Did I call it? Or did I call it?

"How about you?" she added.

"Yeah..." I flipped my hand in the air, "I...ah...went to grade four once. I actually graduated to grade five."

She chuckled at my lame joke, "Don't be silly."

Then I realized something, "Actually it's not true, I did three, four and five in two years, so was I ever in grade four? I don't know."

"What do you do for a living Frank?"

"Landscape architect," I answered.

"Oh, how exotic," she replied with a smile.

"Hardly," I said, "It's mainly plantings for highway projects. I'm working on a new dump site right now. Oh sorry...a waste management facility. Such a scam," I said, "the township's taxpayer dollars get spent on expensive landscaping to give the impression that the facility is eco-friendly. The public is fooled at their own expense."

Sophie just gazed at me.

"But there's some private garden work that makes the job interesting," I continued. "One project I have, the wife's name is Lily. The whole project is themed around day lilies."

"Sounds exciting."

"Exciting may be a stretch. It's the challenge that makes it interesting."

"So is it just you and Lovie?" she asked. Somehow I knew she would.

"Two boys," I said, "they're on their own now. I divorced their mother years ago. The boys landed up living with, and being raised, by me."

"Oh," she said a little taken aback, "what happened, do you mind me asking?"

"The bottom line was that she had psychological issues that she didn't want to or couldn't deal with, and neither I, nor the boys could deal with her."

"You didn't try to get professional help?"

"Oh sure, we tried at least. But she was, in the final analysis generating too much pain and hurt for everyone around her. The situation became unsustainable.

The young waitress brought the food to the table.

"Thank you," we said simultaneously and then she added, "What happened to her?"

"She met and married another nut-case just like her. They live in Arizona now."

I didn't want to ask about her husband.

She volunteered though, "Sam died of Non-Hodgkin's. He fought it on and off for nearly twenty six years. In the end he lost the battle."

"I'm so sorry to hear that. That is no life."

"You're right about that. We were just married when he was first diagnosed."

"Oh dear," I said, then hoping to brighten her up added, "do you have any kids?"

"No," was her calm, measured reply, "chemo and radiation prevented that from happening."

"Oh dear," I said knowing that I should just shut the hell up. I bit into my sandwich.

I looked up to her face from my plate. She was grinning!

She must have read shock in my face. "Frank, that episode in my life is over. Yes, it was difficult and it was painful, but I'm not going to slouch my way into a grave. I'm doing things now that I've not had a chance to do before. I still have a good job, the teacher's pension, as you know, will be plenty to live on and I have nieces that are almost like children to me."

I think I smiled at her.

"I had fun today Frank. Thank you so much."

"I did too Sophie, I hope we can do it again. I hope we can find your Indigo Bunting."

"Is this ever good," she said and carefully looked at the sandwich, "I've never thought to put chopped hardboiled egg into tuna salad."

"Mnnn, it's very good," I answered.

A huge grin washed over her face. "Frank, let me repay you for the lunch and the walk in the woods," she said as she picked up a fry. "Let me make you dinner some night."

Make you dinner? As opposed to go out for dinner? "I wouldn't want you to go to any trouble for me." I said, biting my sandwich again.

"It would hardly be trouble. It would be my pleasure," she said as she popped the fry into her mouth.

I swallowed, "We could go to a restaurant," I suggested. Wasn't that the common thinking, that she'd be more comfortable on neutral ground?

"No," she answered, "I'm too frugal and I'm too demanding. Nothing upsets me more than paying good money for mediocre fare, or having a child follow the instructions for putting together a pre-prepared entrée. I've had enough of pretentious little restaurants lost in their own conceit. All that service pizzazz doesn't do anything for me anymore either and I think I'm going to strangle the next waitress named Erin or Heather who draws a little happy face after her name on the bill believing that her chances of getting a good tip have just increased."

I chuckled nodding my head. "Sophie, you are so spot on correct about all of that."

She smiled with that little curl to her upper lip, "Birds of a feather fly together."

"I guess they do," I grinned.

She fluttered her eye, just once and said, "Plus, I prefer the intimacy of a good conversation in comfortable surroundings."

Okay.

"I'm sold," I said lifting my palms in the air.

"Great," she said smiling. "How about tomorrow night?"

"Sunday night dinner? Sounds ideal."

We laughed when we caught ourselves reaching for our cell phones again.

The bill came for the lunch. I held it up to Sophie so she could read the waitress' name. Ashleigh with a happy face after it.

She giggled away. I loved watching her.

I left Ashleigh a generous tip.

She asked if there was anything I don't eat. "Nope," was my reply.

Sophie gave my cheek a quick kiss as we said good-bye in the parking lot.

It was all my doing of course. I didn't have to ask her to have lunch with me, but I did. I could have said no to the dinner invitation, but I didn't. I knew that a part of me was genuinely yearning for companionship and hey, hot sex too. But on the other hand, I recognized that I'd slipped into that enigmatic and perhaps unfortunate station in life. The confirmed bachelor. Lovie really was my wife. Was I just leading Sophie on to something I couldn't deliver? Was I even capable anymore? After what I'd gone through with kook-head ex-wife Carol, I wasn't so sure. Earlier I'd been searching for a replacement wife. A replacement love. Did I even have the mental and emotional strength anymore? Certainly not, if it meant that I would be battling with another Carol-type again.

But then, Sophie was way different from Carol. For starters...Sophie was a nice person.

I had the same bird dream that night. I thought I was holding a woman's hand in mine as we walked along. I couldn't tell if it was Sophie's or not.

I showed up at a very nice condominium building at seven thirty on Sunday evening exactly on time. I brought red and white wine. I thought flowers might be a little too much. I was nervous as I waited for the elevator.

I wondered if I had dressed properly. Basically it boiled down to business attire. Nice Dockers in stone, a deep blue, long sleeve shirt with collar and what I'd hoped...was an okay matching sports jacket. No tie. I looked down. At least my shoes were polished.

"Hi Frank," she said as she opened the door. She gave me a peck on the cheek as I came in. "My you look handsome," she added.

"And you look very elegant tonight Sophie." She did. She had a light blue, short sleeve dress on. The hem was cut just above the knee. She had a string of pearls around her neck and matching earrings. Her make-up was slight with a little pink to her lips. It all went with her blue eyes. Her fingernails were perfectly manicured, that same dusty pink. Light blue leather shoes with a slight heel and white, almost translucent stockings or pantyhose.

What a beautiful, refined lady.

"Shall I take my shoes off?"

She smiled, "No, leave them on if you wish. Just make yourself comfortable."

Being comfortable meant that she doesn't get to smell my potentially stinky feet. I handed her the wine as I stepped into the condo apartment.

"You didn't have to bring wine Frank, but thank you so much."

She regarded the two wines, "Very nice Frank, a Saint-Emilion and a Petit Chablis already chilled." She gave me a beaming smile as she set them down on sideboard, slipping a paper napkin under the chilled Chablis.

"I hear the French make good wine," I said. She chuckled.

I regarded the condo unit. It was elegantly furnished without being overtly feminine. It had stone coloured broadloom throughout. The sofa and side chairs were light grey leather, comfy looking, but not clunky. The artwork was modern. It appeared original works. I didn't see any photographs of dead husbands.

The table was already set for two. White tablecloth and napkins with little accents of pink. Silver cutlery and candlesticks. Pink candles. Same colour as her fingernails. Coincidence?

Handel's Water Music played softly in the background.

"Do you like the condo?" she asked.

"Yes, I do." It was so clearly her.

She smiled. "I sold the house after Sam died. I had to start anew. Plus I can walk to the school from here." She pulled out two crystal tumblers from a cabinet. "Two more years and I can retire with a full pension."

"Wow, that's nice," I said.

"What can I get you to drink? A little scotch maybe? Or perhaps you would like a martini or a beer?"

She set the tumblers on the table.

"I'll have whatever you're having Sophie." I was trying to be polite.

"Okay Jagermeister boilermakers over Red Bull it is!"

"Huungh?"

"Lighten up Frank! I'm kidding."

"I'm sorry Sophie, maybe I am being a bit too stiff."

She grinned while glancing at me from the corner of her eye.

What did I just say? I shook my head trying to stop the blood from rushing to my head.

"I'll have a martini if you'll have one," she said, still grinning. "Dinner won't be ready for another few minutes. You're not in a hurry are you?"

"No, I'm yours all night." Did I just say that? Shit! "I-I'll have a martini," I managed to stammer out shaking my head.

"Vodka or gin?" She put the two tumblers back and pulled out two martini glasses.

"Whatever you're having."

"I'm having gin, have a seat." she said as she slipped into the kitchen. I sat down on the couch.

She came out with two martinis each with olive. "They're dry, I hope you're okay with that."

"I am thanks," I said, "cheers." We clinked glasses and took a sip.

"I had that dream again last night," she said. I don't know what my expression was, I said nothing but she asked, "What?"

"The Indigo Bunting?" I asked.

"Yes, it was very odd."

"Tell me about it," I said. There was no way I was going to tell her I had the same dream, if indeed it was. She'd think I'm crazy or full of it.

"I was walking through woods, on a path, it was sunny and there were a number of bright yellow Goldfinch flitting from branch to branch in the sunlight, except for one. One was the most glorious blue. It was an Indigo Bunting."

"Was anyone else there?"

"I don't know. I can't remember, but it was a happy dream."

I looked at her wrist, her hand and her manicured fingers as she held her martini glass.

"Well I hope it's a good omen," I said, "maybe you'll find your bird."

She smiled, "Maybe," she said, sipped her glass again and then set it down on the coffee table. "Maybe, you'll help me." She glanced into my eyes.

"There must be known places where they can be found," I said.

"Perhaps, it's probably worth the effort to spend a little time on the internet," she suggested.

"Sophie, I wouldn't bother, I don't think Buntings go on the internet."

"Ahh...ha...haa!" There was that musical laugh again.

She was sweet.

"And yes Sophie, I will help you find your Bunting."

She smiled demurely.

"Next weekend, weather permitting?" I asked.

"I'd love that."

"Great. It's a date then. You, me and Lovie, hunting for Bunting."

We clicked glasses. Sophie excused herself to go into the kitchen.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I called after her.

"Just talk to me," was the reply from the kitchen, "tell me about yourself Frank."

Okay.

"Where do I start? Ah...I've just turned fifty three, fifth generation Canadian, I believe the Proulx family was originally Huguenot – French, although I don't speak a word of it.

"Huguenot?"

"French," I couldn't but chuckle. She stepped out of the kitchen grinning.

"My dad was a butcher and for many years mom was a clerk at an insurance company. Dad passed away a number of years ago. Lung cancer. Mom's in a nursing home with complete dementia."

"Oh I'm so sorry," said Sophie as she sat back down.

"Yeah, it's sad. She doesn't recognize us."

"Oh dear."

"Anyway they had two boys. I'm the older of the two. My brother's name is Walter, Wally he's...about to turn fifty. He and Jane have two boys. He's made a ton of money working in an automotive assembly plant. He's a union boy."

"And I'm a union girl."

"Indeed. Anyway, he lives on the other side of town and does okay. Jane's a pharmacist and although he's always afraid that he's about to be laid off, I don't think he ever has been. And now he's talking about retirement and he's not even fifty."

"And you have two boys?"

"Yes."

"Your parents had two boys, you have two boys and your brother has two boys also?"

"Yup."

"So it's strictly Y chromosomes in your family?"

"By the pair. How about you?"

"The exact opposite. I have two sisters. My oldest sister, Monica, has three girls, my other sister Ruth, the middle child, has only one of her own, Elizabeth. And my mother, bless her heart came from a family of five girls."

"Wow."

We sat and looked at each other for a few moments holding our martini glasses in our hands.

"I know what you're thinking, but it's too late for me."

I chuckled, "What? What were you thinking?"

She chuckled too, "How the genetics would play themselves out."

At that we were both laughing as she stood to go to the kitchen again. Her in her musical tone.

I think I was blushing.

"Okay, sit up to the table, dinner is ready."

"Okay."

I finished my martini, "Can I help?"

"No, just sit yourself down."

I did. The table was perfect. White with pink. Just like Sophie.

"So why didn't you marry again?" she asked as she brought plates to the table.

"Wow! What is this?" I asked.

"Oh I'm sorry I didn't mean to offend you by inquiring."

"No...no...I'm asking about the food."

"Oh," she seemed relieved, "veal escallops in a creamy white mushroom gravy, sautéed potatoes and green beans with garlic scapes."

All sprinkled with fresh herbs too, I noticed. Plus there was a dish of Tabouleh salad with parsley, cucumber, tomato and onion.

"Garlic scapes?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, don't you like them?"

"What are they?"

"The green curly things with the beans."

Sure enough. The green beans had matching green curly things mixed in with them. I tried one.

"Wow, that's great."

"You've not had garlic scapes before?"

"I've never even heard of them."

"It's a seasonal treat," she said as she slipped her reading glasses on. The blue ones with the chain. "Garlic is part of the onion family. Scapes are like green onions from a garlic plant."

I was eating. Everything was fantastic.

We both had the Petit Chablis.

"Mmm...so good."

She smiled, "Please...enjoy."

I did. Wow, did I ever!

"So why didn't you marry again?" she pressed.

I swallowed my mouthful. "You know that bit about single mom's having a tough time finding someone else because they're carrying baggage?"

"Mnnn," she mumbled with a mouthful herself.

"Well that adage unfortunately applies to single dads too."

She gazed at me over the top of her glasses.

"I had plenty of dates over the years, most of them," I had to think for a moment, "noallof them with divorced or separated mothers. Anyway, I would think that maybe one of them would develop into something else, you know...but it never did."

"Why not?"

"Because of the boys. They were too much baggage."

She had an incredulous look on her face.

"There was one time, I remember this so clearly. I'd been going out with a girl...well, a woman. Michelle was her name. I was really keen on her, I thought, you know, we could live together, get married or something. Anyway after a few date nights out, I had to have her over to my house. Meet the kids, right? She had two kids of her own that I'd already met a few times. A boy and a girl. Aged eleven and thirteen I think."

I took another mouthful. Sophie was watching intently as she ate.

I chewed then swallowed. "I made a nice romantic evening for us, I cooked a nice meal. Candles, soft music, the whole bit. I fed the boys first so we could be together."

"And?"

"They were fifteen and seventeen at the time."

"And?"

"They had a fist fight in the basement right below the dining room table. It was, 'you fucking bastard', 'fuck you!', 'asshole', 'cock sucker' the whole time, plus breaking sounds. It was all very embarrassing."

"Oh dear."

"The worst part was that we got into an argument afterwards. She thought I should take Matt to the hospital because she felt he had a broken nose. It was bleeding."

"Why didn't you?"

"Sophie, if I took the boys to the hospital every time they had a bleeding nose, I'd have spent my whole life in the waiting room."

She didn't say anything, just gazed at me.

"That was the last time I saw Michelle." I paused for a moment. "Seriously, what woman wants to inherit a couple of rambunctious teenage boys?"

She ate a mouthful.

"They're not like that anymore," I said. "They're all grown up now." I was hoping to temper the moment.

We ate in silence for a moment.

"May I ask you another personal question?" she asked.

"Sure."

"Do you believe in God?"

That certainly was personal. "I believe inaGod." I then added, "I think." I sliced a bit of veal and dragged it through the creamy gravy.

She had a funny expression. "InaGod as opposed to a multitude of gods?"

Odd statement. "Yes, in a single God. But then I'm not sure. How about you?"

She smiled, "I believe in a single God. The Judeo Christian God. So are you agnostic?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure."

She smiled at my answer and picked up the Tabouleh salad, "Would you perhaps call yourself a Christian agnostic? Some salad?"

"Maybe I suppose. I must admit that I didn't really know there were different types of agnostics. Are there Jewish agnostics as opposed to Hindu agnostics?" I took the salad bowl from her, "Thanks."

"Interesting question," she said.

"Can one believe in the Judeo Christian God but be unsure of the existence of the multitude of Hindu Gods and therefore one is Hindu agnostic; as opposed to believing in the Judeo Christian God and disbelieving in the Hindu Gods entirely and therefore one could be called a Hindu atheist?"

She smiled, "I must admit, I've never considered that. Perhaps you are correct. I will admit then, that I'm a Hindu atheist."

"Muslim atheist too?" I asked while scooping up some salad.

"Muslim agnostic. Allah is supposed to be based on the Judeo Christian God isn't He?

"Don't know."

"My point exactly. I guess that makes you Muslim agnostic too."

"I guess." We both laughed.

"In any event I'm not much of a churchgoer." I admitted, "how about yourself?"

"No, I'm not either, but I would call myself Christian. A New Christian as opposed to Christian from the Catholic Church that I was raised in."