Jim and Edie Again Ch. 01-03

Suddenly, another man appeared in the archway to what I could see was the living room. He smiled at me. He was what I instantly called tall, dark, and handsome -- so distinguished looking with his salt and pepper hair, and the way he was casually dressed. He looked so important, and I could instantly see why he'd been a leader of so many people in his career. He oozed importance, élan, grace, friendliness, and know-how. I felt the butterflies in my stomach all start to fly at once. I think there were a few seconds when I couldn't breathe.

I watched as he got introduced to Hank and Rita. Mindy then turned him to me, and I thought I'd melt into a puddle right then I was so embarrassed. I needed to pee. I know I blushed.

Mindy politely said, "Edie, this is our friend Jim. Jim. Edie."

I watched as the corners of his mouth twitched. He was nervous. I was nervous. My hands were shaking and near absolute zero they were so cold, but I put out my hand to shake, and he took it. We held each other's hands a long time, but neither of us said anything. We just kept looking the each other. It was dumb really, and I kept trying to think of something to say, and my mind was totally blank. My motor functions had shut down. I was frozen in position, holding this man's hand as I found myself lost in his deep brown eyes that seemed to absorb me.

"Ahem!" Bruce, our host, got my attention -- and Jim's -- and suggested that we all go into the living room for a glass of wine before dinner.

Jim and I stopped shaking hands. His hand had been so warm and soft. When we stopped touching, I felt a loss as we drew apart. I followed Bruce into the living room, trying to reestablish contact with the linguistic center in my brain so I might say something hopefully intelligent. I wisely remained mute lest I babble or just make unintelligible sounds. Jim silently followed behind the rest of us.

Bruce gave me an empty wine glass, and then presented me with a choice of a Chardonnay or a Merlot. I chose the white wine; afraid that if my hands started shaking harder that I'd slosh red wine all over my dress, the furniture, and the carpeting. After he filled my glass, he gestured to Jim who stood beside me.

Jim spoke to his friend with a smile, "Chardonnay on ice, please."

His voice was so decisive yet friendly. He knew exactly what he wanted. I felt so impressed by him. I kept sneaking looks at him as Bruce served him. He sipped the wine, obviously savoring its quality, and that reminded me that I should do the same. My nervousness made me want to chug my entire glass down in two seconds, and then do the same with two or three more glasses until I felt some liquid courage kick in.

I tried to smile at him, but felt that I probably ended up looking like a lost waif or a panic-stricken loser on a blind date. I think I over-smiled and showed too much of my gums. Why was I so nervous? I'd met hundreds of other people before and was never quite like this even when I was a pimply teenager.

Mindy suggested we step outside, as the sunset was beautiful. There were several cloud layers, and the way the setting sun was hitting them turned them various shades of pink and orange, and then deepening reds and oranges to dark grays. The sunset seemed to rush to completion as the six of us stood on their back patio. Hank was talking about sunsets and what made them so beautiful.

I got a chill from the evening air as I stood with the others and watched the sky. I must have shivered, because suddenly a warm jacket wrapped itself around my shoulders. I whirled around to see that Jim had taken off his blazer and wrapped me with it around my shoulders. How chivalrous of him. We'd barely said a dozen words to each other yet he impressed me again. Jim just smiled kindly at me and then gazed at the western sky again. I smiled back with my warmest of looks.

I got to Bruce and Mindy's about fifteen minutes before the others were expected to arrive. I was a basket case. My throat was dry, I could barely talk, my knees were knocking together so loudly I thought someone would complain about the noise, and I kept having to pee.

Bruce pulled me into the backyard. "For god's sake, calm down. Think about what's making you nervous."

"I am, and that just makes me more nervous. This woman you've invited -- Edie -- she's an angel and beauty queen, and here I am a devil in disguise. She'll think I'm the biggest buffoon in the state."

"Will you just chill out? She's human. She was married for a long time, and that alone means she's developed some tolerance for other people. She ran a business that called for her to interact with lots of people. She's nice, and well educated. She's your kind of person. Just think of her as ... well, the woman who serves you coffee at Starbucks. She's the girl next door."

"She won beauty contests! The barista girl at Starbucks is cross-eyed, has buckteeth, terminal acne, and lost a hatchet fight. Why did I let you talk me into this dinner?" I asked rhetorically.

"Because you know we care about you and want to see you have fun instead of hibernating in your house as you are prone to do unless I pull you away. We wouldn't put you in harm's way." Bruce paused and asked, "If you were the person you think Edie wants to meet, what would you be like?"

I thought for a moment, "I'd be suave and very aware of her needs, both for conversation and for silence. I'd be attentive but not overbearing. I'd be kind but not in an ostentatious way. I'd be James Bond. Oh god, I'm babbling bullshit again."

"No, you're right on. Now, you just have to act the part, and since you're that way anyway, all you really need to do is just be yourself. You can emphasize that by pretending to be that suave, debonair person. Fake it until you make it. Put the nervous person aside; he just left the house. Act 'as if' you're the perfect person for Edie. You be tall, dark, and handsome, and have just the right personality to wow her right off her feet."

"I'll try ... I guess." I know I sounded doubtful about the prospect for success.

Bruce cocked an ear towards the side of his house, "I just heard a car drive up. Come on in, and let's welcome them."

I slowly followed Bruce inside. As I shut the door to the patio, I heard the sounds of welcoming taking place in the home's foyer. I puffed up my chest, took five deep breaths, and sauntered to the doorway to the foyer trying to look 'cool' and friendly.

Oh, holy crap-a-roo! There she was -- Edie. There was no doubt which woman she was. She looked even better than her photographs we'd found on the Internet. She was truly an angel and a work of art, and I was sure there was a halo above her head. The gods gave the best of their best to her. She had a softness about her, and an air of eternal beauty and serenity. She oozed love. She was Aphrodite ... and I felt like an absolute clod.

Mindy introduced us. I know my entire face was twitching with nerves. My whole body was about to go spastic, but I suppressed the urge to race past everyone to the street and my car screaming that I had to get home for some unknown emergency.

Edie and I shook hands. Her hand was cool to the touch, just right. I didn't want to let go, and I guess she didn't either. We both stared into each other's faces, and I found strength I didn't know I had. We kept holding hands until someone nudged me to go back into the living room.

Bruce served some wine, but I wasn't tasting anything. I was studying Edie. I was trying not to stare, so I sort of kept looking at everyone else, and then stealing a long glance at Edie. I wanted to soak up her beauty, and just the feeling of pleasure I found being in her presence. I knew even then that sometime the evening would end, and I'd probably never see this wonderful creature again. I wanted lots of camera shots with my mind to view later. I wanted to soak up every photon bouncing from her in my direction.

I got a smile from her, and it lit up the sky. We went outside to watch the sunset. As we all stood and talked, I saw Edie shiver from the chill of the night air. I had my jacket off and around her shoulders in two microseconds. I wanted to be her servant -- that was all I felt worthy of. When I reclaimed my jacket later, I'd know that this beauty had worn it for a few minutes, and I'd treasure that memory.

I tried to act like Mr. Cool, and someone who was always giving his jacket to needy beautiful women. I looked back at the sunset, thinking of that scene in the movieThe Great Gatsby, where Robert Redford gazes out at the setting sun from his Newport mansion, showing his suave and mysterious sides all at once.

Eventually, Mindy herded us back inside and to the dining room. She seated the table, and I had Edie to my left. She returned the jacket and thanked me for my kindness. I brushed off the comment, but secretly treasured her words. I held her dinner chair for her, and I even got a laugh from her when I put her napkin in her lap with a flourish the way I'd seen a maître d' do in an upscale restaurant. Mindy's friend Rita saw me do that, and gave me a conspiratorial wink.

Dinner eventually got us all talking about various subjects: books, movies, our work -- past and present, and what our children and, in my case, grandkids were up to. I could feel Edie's aura as she sat next to me. I sent her mental messages of acceptance and gratitude that I'd gotten to meet her. I wondered if there was such a thing as ESP. If there was, she was getting some nice messages from me.

Edie actually touched my arm a few times to make a point about something we were discussing. Each time she did, I felt like I'd just stuck my finger in an electrical outlet while standing in salt water. My whole body went into shock and trembled. I was sure she could see it and feel it, but I tried to keep my cool. One time I actually put my other hand over hers to show acceptance. She lit up with the nicest smile and kept her hand on my arm under my hand for an extra-long time -- like ten seconds.

We all lingered over dinner and the light dessert Rita had brought. I think I downed four cups of coffee as we sat around continuing to chatter about one thing and another. I realized I was trying to prolong our evening together before we parted forever. I was a little less nervous.

Eventually, Hank and Rita made noises about leaving, and that meant that Edie would be going with them. I also thanked our host and hostess, and soon we all filed out the door with more goodbye noises. I bid Hank, Rita, and Edie goodbye as we neared our cars. I got to shake Edie's hand again, only this time I tried to act a little more suave. I used both hands to hold hers, and I told her it had been a real pleasure to meet her. After that we went in different directions.

Bruce called me the next morning at nine-thirty. I could hear Mindy in the background giving him instructions on what to say to me, and that made me laugh. Bruce was being the dutiful husband.

He said in an instructional tone, "You are supposed to call Edie and ask her to dinner. The 'powers that be' have decided that you two made a good couple last night, and that it would be a shame for you not to see her again -- soon, especially without the rest of us around to divert your conversation."

"Dinner? I barely met the woman, attractive as she is. What makes you think she's even interested in going out with me?"

"Look," he said, "I'm just the messenger. Do it or we're both toast with Mindy and Rita."

I gave my passive-aggressive response, "I'll think about it."

Just thinking about calling Edie gave me mixed emotions. On the one hand I found her exceptionally engaging and probably the most beautiful woman on the planet. On the other, I might just as well call the White House and invite myself to dinner. I felt so intimidated by her: her beauty, her intellect, and her persona.

Finally, about six o'clock that evening, I pulled out the scrap of paper that Mindy had forced into my pocket the night before with Edie's phone number on it. I took one last glug of liquid courage from my wine glass and then dialed the number.

Edie answered on the third ring.

"Errr, Edie, this is Jim. We met last night at Bruce and Mindy's."

"Oh, yes, I was hoping you'd call. I had such a nice time talking to you."

I thought, 'Oh my god, she's friendly and inviting, and she apparently liked me.'

"Well, I was wondering if you'd ... like to have lunch somewhere next Saturday. We could meet anywhere you'd like."

"Oh, yes. That'd be perfect." I thought I detected a tremor in her voice. Maybe she was as nervous as I was. She went on in a tentative tone, "How about at Lloyd's Restaurant at noon. They have outdoor seating if the weather is nice, otherwise we can eat inside."

"Perfect. I'll see you there -- noon on Saturday at Lloyd's."

We rang off, and I sighed in relief. I'd done it. It had taken me all day to work up sufficient courage. My knees turned to Jello, and I had to sit down. I backed away from a dinner date because I'd have to plan something for the whole evening. Lunch was much less committal -- only forty-five minutes if things turned out to be painful. Further, I'd suggested that we meet there instead of me picking her up. That way, we could leave and go in different directions without further recriminations. Meeting there made it seem like less of a date. I sure was avoiding commitment.

A date? My god, I hadn't had a boy-girl date with anybody but my late wife in almost forty years. What was I thinking? This was not like high school or college. I knew what was expected of me back then, but now ... I wasn't so sure. I had no idea how a nearly sixty-year-old male was supposed to behave on a 'date.'

I texted Bruce, 'Lunch on Saturday with Edie.'

He immediately texted back, 'Good. I'll let the authorities know.'

A few minutes after that I got a text from Mindy. 'Coward. You were supposed to ask her to dinner and make an evening of it ... even ending up back at your house for romance. Oh, well. Next time.' A moment later I got another text from her, 'Seriously, congratulations. I know that took courage. We're behind you on this. M and B.'

I didn't respond to Mindy because I thought there was a gentle prodding there that I was choosing to ignore.

I saw the Caller ID on my cellphone light up with Jim's name and number. My heart leapt into my throat, and I'm sure my body went into a state of shock. I had to cough a couple of times to be able to speak before I pushed the answer button. I felt tears of panic hit my eyes.

A couple of sentences later, and I'd agreed to go to lunch with him at Lloyd's, my favorite place. What was I thinking by accepting? What does he want from me? He was so suave last night, but then here and there I detected some nervousness. He's an oxymoron -- nervous yet confident. He was so nice. I liked him.

I immediately started second guessing myself. I hadn't been on a real boy-girl 'date' for decades.

Harry used to remind me that I intimidated people because of who I'd been and what I did in my career. I'd been a top fashion and photography model, pulling down tens of thousands for a single photoshoot, and then I'd even been on the cover of some well-known magazines. Even now my older photos were splattered all over the Internet, some of me in the nude -- not porn, mind you, but more artistic studies by one of the leading photographers of the time -- over thirty years earlier. Oh, my god, had Jim seen those? Was that why he was after me? If I intimidated him, how come he was so 'smooth' and poised most of the evening? I was pretending to be that way myself, when I really wanted to kick off my shoes and go barefoot.

Saturday! Shit, that's only six days away. Why was I swearing? I need to wear something that will signal to him that I'm past all those years in my life where I was in demand and intimidating and sexy. I was pretending back then to be so sophisticated. I'm just a country girl blessed with good looks.

Hell, even now I'm getting signs of old age that take the edge off what I looked like in my youth. I'm broader in my hips. I have crow's feet at my eyes and wrinkles in my neck and forehead. My skin is a little blotchy with what my mother called liver spots -- not many, but a few. My breasts sag. My butt sags even more -- I think. I have cellulite forming on my thighs. My eyelids droop. I dye my hair. I'm a complete mess, why would Jim even think of being seen in public with me?

As I wandered around the house I suddenly stopped in a panic. What will we talk about? Oh, crap. I need to brush up on the latest movies and books, and ... the news. I wonder what his politics are ... his religion? That's it; I'll watch the news. I can't just veg out all day long watching Home and Garden TV like I've been doing since before Harry died. I've got to get back into the real world. When did I travel last? Oh, it was last year and I went to Rome for a few days with Rita. Do I still have the photos on my iPhone to show him? Am I trying to upstage him by talking about that trip?

What if he's a sports nut? Does he have a favorite team? Should I memorize batting averages or football scores or something? He looks in good shape. Does Jim do tennis or golf or something else? Does he run? Might he jog with me some day? I wonder if he likes yoga.

I paced around my living room with my heart beating fast, my brain in a truly spastic condition, and in a near panic. I couldn't hold onto one thought for more than half-a-second. I could feel the adrenalin surging through my veins. Another wave of panic washed over me. What will I wear? Lloyd's can be anything from very casual to practically formal attire. If I dress down and he wears a suit, I'll feel like a tramp. If I dress up, and he's in jeans or shorts he'll think I'm a snob and trying to upstage him -- that intimidation factor again. Maybe I need to go through my closet and see what jumps out at me. I love colorful, but what if he has a favorite color like blue, and I show up wearing red. Will that turn him off?

Why am I trying to impress this man? I only just met him, although Rita and Mindy both assure me that he's a rare catch and that we'd be perfect together. What does that mean? Do I even want to live with another man ... or get married again? Wait! Why do I suddenly have us married? We haven't even been on a date yet. Is Saturday a date? He's not picking me up; I'm meeting him there; it's just a casual lunch. Right?

The weekdays passed with agonizing slowness. As each day passed, I worked myself into a frenzy of worry about my Saturday 'date'. I talked to Rita twice daily during the week, and she calmed me down each time. She even had Mindy call me -twice -- to give me more details about Jim. The more I learned about him, the more impressed I was with who he was, what he'd done with his life, and how he thought. How would I remember everything the two of them told me, not only about Jim, but also about how to behave on my lunch date?

I lost sleep Thursday night. I ended up pacing around my living room at five in the morning talking out loud to myself. In a stern voice I said to no one, "Edie, you're almost sixty years old. You have faced all sorts of demons, devils, bitches, and bastards in your life and career. Jim is a nice man, and he just wants to have a casual lunch with you. You are working this date thing into a huge deal, and it's not. Just roll with it. Relax. Get a grip."

I sat beside my backyard pool as the sun came up meditating, but my monkey brain was all over the map. When I stopped meditating, I sort of woke up to the thought, 'No, thisisan important date. If everyone sees us as so great together, maybe there's really something there.' I found I had tears running down my cheeks. I was so confused.