Becoming Hers Pt. 01

"Seriously?"

"What do you mean?" I said as I felt a chill go through me.

"That's the best you can do? 'Wondering if we can start again'? Kind of trite, isn't it?"

Cool wasn't working and my mind felt like I just ate a very cold Popsicle. Maybe I should just tell her the truth. That since we met I have done little more than fantasize about her. About the two of us dining together and talking without end. About us kissing and making love passionately. About marrying her and protecting her, helping her to live whatever life made her happy as together we brought up our two children in our tony house in Westchester or Connecticut (I could not work out this part of the fantasy). About how even when we were married we would never get bored and always have time for each other.

Are you mad? How would a woman who barely remembers me react to a summer's worth of obsessing?

"Fair enough," I said when I composed myself and took a deep breath to steady myself. "The truth is that I know I came off like a jerk when we met. I'm truly sorry about that. I know that we hardly got to speak but I am really not as bad as you thought. I've been thinking about you a lot and would like to get to know you better. I would love to take you out for a cup of coffee sometime."

Now, unconsciously, I held my breath. I felt vulnerable.

"Sure, I would like that."

I exhaled.

"Great. Would tomorrow work?"

"That's not good for me, and I'm going away for the long weekend. How about a week from tomorrow after I get out of work, around 5:30? At the West Side Diner?"

My classes would just be beginning then and I didn't know what my schedule would look like. It didn't really matter, though. I had a chance.

"That would be terrific. I really look forward to it."

"By the way," she asked, "how did you get my number?"

I told her in brief how I tracked her down, trying not to sound like an obsessed stalker.

"Hmm. Well, I've thought a lot about you as well," she said quickly before hanging up.

Chapter 5

Never in the entire history of humankind has a week gone by so slowly. I was by turns ebullient and despondent. She had, after all, agreed to go out with me. And with that last line, which I endlessly parsed and reparsed in my head, she seems to have been telling me that she was also interested in me. Now that we'll meet, though, she will discover the real me and will quickly snuff out my fantasies of our shared life together. In the meantime, my job ended with an informal assurance that I would receive a job offer for next year and my classes began with a vengeance. Not that I could focus on them. The clock moved so slowly.

I was at the West Side Café at 5:15. I took a table for two within sight of the door. Then I had a moment of panic as I wondered if I would actually recognize her. That was quickly dispelled as she breezed through the door at 5:33.

She was radiant. She wore a slightly shiny, loose, white blouse with short sleeves and a pale green skirt that fell just above her knees. Her legs were toned and tanned and she was wearing heels. She was wearing a large, silvery necklace over her blouse and more whimsical, understated dangling silver earrings. She had a stylish, off-white bag but I had no idea if it was a famous brand, the knock off of a famous brand, or something else entirely. Her long red hair flowed easily over her neck, the curl just touching her shoulders. She looked confident and care-free. I stood up.

"Sally, I'm so glad you could make it," I exclaimed, trying to disguise my excitement and terror.

"Hi Steven. How are you doing?" she asked, as she put out her hand first to shake.

We settled down and ordered a cappuccino (for me) and a berry tea (for her). We made some small talk and soon discovered, much to my great relief, that we had a lot of similar interests. We both liked to run in the morning and in general liked the outdoors. We enjoyed eating out, going to movies, and traveling. We both liked going to museums, especially the Met. Basic things, but hopefully the foundation of several dates to come.

The hour that we talked just flew by at which point she glanced at her phone with a slight start and told me that she had to go. I paid the bill and as we left the restaurant I resisted the urge to kiss her. Instead I asked which direction she was going. We were going vaguely in the same direction (actually, I really just pretended to be in order to spend more time with her) so we walked together, laughing about something on a TV series that we both watched. After far too short a time she stopped.

"I'm here," she said, gesturing to the right down a side-street. She held out her hand again. No kiss.

"I'd like to see you again," I said simply.

"I'd like that."

"How about this Saturday night?"

She paused for a moment, perhaps surprised.

"Sure."

"I'll pick you up at six. Dinner and a movie?"

"Actually, why don't you pick a restaurant? You can text me the address and we can meet there."

That sounded fine to me.

"Oh, Steven," she said as I was about to go. "You never asked me about my education or where I worked."

"I know. It doesn't matter."

Chapter 6

We went out that Saturday night, and then the one after. We started to go out more often, really enjoying each other's company. As learned more about Sally I felt my initial infatuation transforming into love.

Sally and I had very different upbringings. She grew up in a large, lower middle-class Irish-American family in Far Rockaway, New York. She has five siblings, two girls and three boys. She went to the local Catholic schools.

Sally seemed not to mind but from my perspective she drew the short end of the straw. She was a girl in a family that invested its time and effort in boys. She was the fifth child, with two older brothers who were solid but not exceptional students. The played sports and were social and their parents had dreams of them attending four-year colleges. Both were accepted into one of the SUNY schools but neither was able to complete their degree. In the process, though, it was a real financial sacrifice for the family. Her older sisters went to work right out of high school, mostly as clerks in local retail stores.

Sally was the best student of them all. She went through high school bored and pulling straight A's in mostly the highest level courses that her school offered. When it came time to apply for colleges, though, no one had much time for her. Her guidance counselors were overworked and cared little. They even suggested that they follow in her sisters' footsteps. Her parents were financially tapped out and simply exhausted from the effort of trying unsuccessfully to put her brothers through college. Besides, they had their eye on her younger brother. In the end, she was only able to enroll in a local community college.

Community college was easier for her and she lived at home for the two years. During that time she became interested in becoming a veterinarian. The idea of working with animals all day and helping them that really appealed, and continued to appeal, to her. For that she needed to transfer into a school from which she could get a four-year degree. But her parents were not supportive and she could not figure out how to navigate the system. So instead of pursuing her passion, after she received her associate's degree she took a job as an administrator in a big corporate firm in midtown Manhattan. My father used to call that job being a secretary.

She moved out of her house and moved into a small two-bedroom apartment on the Upper West Side. She did not previously know her roommate and did not interact with her much but it was working out. When we met she had been at her job for two years and had begun to establish a social network, mainly of other young women in New York who had similar jobs. About half of her salary went for rent and while she had to skimp to make ends meet she had enough to enjoy her life in the City.

The Donovans married young. At 22, she was practically an old maid by their standard. All of her older siblings were married. The last Donovan wedding had been three years earlier, when her sister Rosemary, who was a year older than Sally, married in a quickly arranged ceremony and then had a baby six months later. All the siblings and their families lived in Queens or nearby in Long Island. And all, she told me, were constantly ribbing her about getting married.

Sally largely brushed this off. At first I thought that Sally was light and airy; she made me think of Sabina, one of the protagonists in the novel The Incredible Lightness of Being. Over time, though, I began to see that what I saw as lightness was a kind of armor. That was partly due to just living in New York; everybody in this city seems to put on a coat of emotional mail before going out of their house (and many forget how to take it off, even inside). But there was more to it. Deep down I could see the vulnerability and the insecurity, the disappointed ambition and the fear that if for one single moment she was not on her best behavior the world would collapse. Not to mention an incredible, bubbling core of passion. It would not be long until I saw at least that side of her.

I made a reservation at a nice Italian restaurant for our second date and arrived, again, a little too early. She showed up just on time. She was wearing a black, sleeveless dress that went up to mid-thigh. It had a V-neck and looked fantastic -- not too dressy but sexy as hell. She was also wearing black pumps. We pecked each other on the cheek for a hello this time. I asked if she wanted some red wine. She was happy to accept and I ended up ordering a bottle.

It was a terrific dinner, in all ways. The food was delicious and the atmosphere was romantic. We talked about what we had done this week. I told her about school (boring) and she told me funny stories of her otherwise boring job. One story involved her walking in on her boss while he was having sex with his boss, who was bent over his desk and moaning softly, her clothes still mostly on and skirt lifted up, as he fucked her. She was on her coffee break when the VP slipped into his office. What made it particularly embarrassing is that she was coming into the office in order to bring in a picture of his wife and children that he asked her to get framed for him. Sally beat a hasty retreat and her boss didn't say anything to her after the VP left.

I was unclear how to respond to that story. To be more accurate, I found that story so arousing that I had to shift to rearrange things and clear my throat in order to regain the ability to speak. But then I figured that that was our opening to discuss our previous relationships.

I told her in some detail about my own past, especially about Linda. I left out some of the awkward details but otherwise I wanted to be honest. I told her that over the last four years I had seen a number of women but none of them very seriously.

"What were they like?"

"Many were like Linda, to be honest. From a similar social set. We often met through a mutual friend. They were nice girls."

"But none of them, in four years, worked out?"

I could see the real question on her mind. I knew that I had be honest but also diplomatic.

"No. I'm not entirely sure why. With each one I felt that there was something missing. I think that they felt that too. Sometimes I broke up, and sometimes they did. It never got too serious."

She just looked at me. She was wondering if I could make a commitment. But she took the conversation in a different direction, a far riskier one.

"Were they like me?"

"No, not really."

She looked at me quietly.

"This is hard for me to express and probably relates to why I was attracted to you at that party. These women, well, I was comfortable with them. We had roughly shared experiences that made everything seem easy. There was a set of social expectations; I knew, for example, just when I was supposed to kiss her. We both approached each other, as we had learned to approach nearly everybody and everything, with a sense of worldliness and detached irony. It made for witty banter, but after a while it begins to feel a bit empty, if you know what I mean. When I saw you, what I saw was not only a beautiful woman but one that was full of life, somebody who is full of joy and life. I found it so attractive, so different."

"So you are interested in me because I'm exotic?"

"That's not what I meant, but in a way, yes. Different from the girls I'm used to seeing. I wanted, and still want, to get to know you. I'm not looking for a 'new experience.' I just want to get to know you, but I already said that."

I stopped, feeling embarrassed. It wasn't coming out well but that was because I didn't know how to articulate what I was feeling. Strongly would be the proper descriptor, but that's not very descriptive.

She looked at me carefully with her large blue eyes. Then she took a sip of wine and leaned forward slightly.

"That's sweet," she said, dispelling my misery.

"What do you want to know about me?"

"Everything. But let's start with your past relationships."

"That's embarrassing! I don't kiss and tell."

"Well that's hardly fair -- I told you mine," I laughed.

"Fine. It's a short story. I was eighteen when I had my first boyfriend, Joe. We went to school together and it was a typical high school thing, more about discovery, hormones, and status than genuine feelings. He was also my first, well, you know. It was a fumbling, not very enjoyable thing, and we soon broke up after that."

"Where did you do it?"

"Why would you ask that?"

"Just curious. I know that you have a big family with lots of people around so I was wondering how you figure that out. His place?"

"No, worse," she laughed. "It was, of all places, at our high school prom, which was in the school gym. Remember that I went to a Catholic school. It was coed, but still -- it was the kind of place where the nuns would go around with a ruler telling dancing couples to "leave space for the Holy Spirit." Joe also comes from a large family and after dating a few months, with everybody so dressed up and enjoying themselves, we were both going a little crazy. So during the dance we watched carefully until one of the doors was unguarded and snuck into one of the classrooms. With all of these very clothes that were so attractive in our way, and fear of getting caught, it was... awkward. Plus it was really hard to get the geometry right. We had no idea what we were doing. It hurt, which I kind of expected, but I didn't expect the blood which made me really uptight the rest of the dance.

"This included birth control. I didn't know anything and I don't think he did either. We weren't using any protection. The next day I had to tell somebody so I went to my sister Rosemary. The one, remember, who had just married? Anyway, I tell her and she turned pale. 'Sally,' she said, 'don't do that again. You can have a baby that way.' I was so stupid. I knew, of course, how babies were made but I also didn't, like that was something abstract and disconnected from my own life. You know, Rosemary herself would marry quickly because she got pregnant. How ironic.

"I got so scared. I liked Joe, but I certainly didn't want to marry him. And I didn't want to have a baby! But we never, ever, talked about abortion. That was just not done. It was not something that even crossed my mind. I was a complete wreck for the next week when I got my period. And that was more or less the end with poor Joe."

"Wow. That must have been hard. And it must be hard for you to tell me -- it's so personal."

"Yes. That's okay. I trust you."

This sounds stupid, but my heart swelled on hearing that. Like, literally I felt it swelling. Then she went on.

"There were guys after that. Not many, and they never went very far. There was one guy I met in college which got a little more serious, but that ended. So here I am."

She smiled at me. I was wondering about the "little more serious" guy from college but she seemed to be done and I didn't want to push it.

We finished dinner and found that we had missed our movie. We took a taxi back to her place and I walked her to the door of her walk-up. We looked at each other expectantly. And then I kissed her, first softly, testing, and then deeper as my hands went around her body. She leaned into the kiss and was the rift to dart her tongue into my mouth. It was amazing.

And then she broke off.

"I had a lovely evening," she said.

"Me too." I could see that she was not going to invite me in, but that was okay. I was willing to take it slowly. "Can I see you again?"

"Of course!" And then she was through the door and I was left, my heart pounding, on the stoop.

Chapter 7

I could not wait for our third date. I could barely sleep that night. I was excited, anxious, and aroused by our evening. Soon after the sun dawned I finally got out of bed and went for a run-down Riverside Park. On an early Sunday morning the City is eerily quiet and beautiful. I ran for a long time, thinking about Sally, and finished with my usual sets of push-ups and crunches.

I showered, ate a yogurt for breakfast, and tried to get myself together. I had to meet three other students in one of my classes to work on a group project that would last most of the day. I could not decide when and how to contact Sally. So before setting out, around 9 AM, I sent her a simple text.

"Really enjoyed last night!"

Nothing in response. Just sending the text made me feel better and shortly after I was engaged with my group project.

Around noon, my phone chirped.

"For me too!"

I decided to be bold.

"Free tonight?" I texted.

"What do you have in mind?"

"How about dinner at my place. I cook."

There was a long, agonizing pause.

"Sure. What can I bring?"

I texted her the address and time told her that she didn't need to bring anything. I was ebullient but distracted for the rest of our group meeting. I dashed off when we were done.

Our third date.

Chapter 8

Since my invitation was spur of the moment I first had to contend with the fact that I had no food at my place. At least none that I would dare to serve her. And my place was a mess.

I ran first to the grocery store to pick up things for dinner. Although I usually do not have much time to cook, I've always enjoyed it and have been good at it. Standing in the aisles I settled on a menu with an Italian theme. We would start out with artichokes, followed by a salad. Then some pasta with pesto and a small piece of sole. We would end with fruit, coffee, and, well, who knows....

It was 4 PM and I invited her for 6:30. I returned to my place with the groceries and saw that my place actually needed far more cleaning up than I originally imagined. I began the artichokes and quickly began straightening and cleaning. I even wiped down the bathroom (which, truth be told, really should have been done a month ago) and changed my sheets. Dinner was easy (I had bought prepared pesto) so I just had to prepare the sole so I could pop it into the oven and get a pot of salted water boiling for the pasta. I whipped up a sauce for the artichokes and took a shower. I shaved and decided to wear fairly new jeans and a white shirt that stretched just a little over my muscular chest. A black belt and black slip ons. A spritz of a musky aftershave. And some mouthwash.

My apartment was cozy and furnished sparsely. While it was not technically I student apartment it looked a lot like one and I never bothered to make it homey. It had a small bedroom, a bathroom with a stall shower, and a single open living area. At one end was the kitchen and at the other I set up a living room set with a sofa and armchair perpendicular to each other. There was a lamp and a couple of coffee tables. A female friend who visited once told me that it reminded her of a hotel, or the apartment of the George Cloony character in Up and Away. Anyway, it was all I had to work with tonight. It's saving grace, and it was a big one, was the view. There were large windows looking out over the Hudson and New Jersey beyond.