My confessions continued...
"He might as well been a movie star!"
Twice I have met men that clicked at first sight. First was a small town guy whom I met many moons ago.
I can’t say the name of the the person, but I will tell you that he was as cute as a Hollywood heartthrob. Also, he has the letter “V” in his first name. That’s all—I can’t say anything more than that. I’ll call him Vin Yelk, which is almost an anagram of his name.
If I were not such a caring person I would have left my best friend's house on time. She asked me to stay longer because she had a date and wanted my input as to what she should wear- or that is what I thought.
However, as the date time grew near she confessed she was dreading the date. She begged me to stay until he arrived to pick her up.
I was hesitant to stay because it was getting late and I would need to call someone to take me home in the middle of the dinner hour, the same home I shared with my younger sibling and parents.
I stayed in spite of my better judgement. As my friend was putting on her clothes in a last minute of hast, I went to answer the door bell.
The bell rang several times before I reached the door and flung it open in a grand flare.
I invited him inside and explained to him that his date would be down shortly.
I introduced myself and found out that he had heard more about me than I cared to know. My friend had often brought up my name to him in their conversations. I on the other hand I had not been told anything about him.
We talked ceaselessly for the next twenty minutes, having the conversation that is specifically about everything.
To my surprise, he had no problem devulging intimate details about his life.
When the clock kept ticking I inquired if my friend was ready for her date. She had anxiety and asked me to continue entertaining him while she built up her courage to come down.
Reluctantly, I returned with an excuse for her tardiness. I asked him if he would care for a coke and/or chip and dip that was available in the fridge. He eagerly accepted the drink and snack as the time wore on. As I served the snack, it felt strangely as if we were eating in bed together, and when I got up to use the bathroom he joked, “You’re leaving me!”
And I said, “I’ll be back!”
As I walked to the hallway I felt flush. Had we been talking loudly? It seemed to me that we were whispering. I looked in the mirror while I was doing my business.
I wondered what was happening to me. I was sweating like a stuck hog. I took off my blouse and tried to wash under my arms, which isn’t really possible in the small 1/2 bathroom sink. I tossed handfuls of water toward my armpits and it landed on my pants. Now there were water spots. This was a real situation I had got myself into. I acted quickly, taking off my pants and soaking the them in the sink, then wringing them out and putting them back on. I smoothed them out with my hands. There... They were the same shade darker now. I walked back down the hall, being careful not to touch my pants.
When Vin Yelk saw me, he shouted, “You've came back!”
And I laughed and he said, “What happened to your pants?”
I sat down embarrassed and frankly explained the whole thing, starting with the armpits. He listened quietly until I was done.
“So I make you feel flush?”
Me...“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Me...“I think so.”
“I can tell that I do.”
Me...“No.”
“It’s O.K. I don't mind.”
“Really!”
“Yeah it's obvious that someone in this house is not as much into me... so at least you might like me”
He leaned over and pressed my arm.
“It’s ok.”
“Oh. Well, I tried to dismiss the whole conversation.”
But he was standing up now, walking past me to his coat on the coat rack by the door.
He walked back and fell into his seat dramatically, holding a small pump bottle.
“It’s my cologne.”
Me... “Oh, that's ok.”
“It dries in seconds, taking odor with it. Lift up your arms.”
I lifted my arms, and with great focus he pumped a spray under each arm.
“It’s best if you keep your arms out until it dries.”
I held them out. One arm extended into the room and the other arm crossed his chest, my hand pressing against his arm. It was suddenly obvious how long of a arm span I had.
He stared at my arm in front of his chest for a moment, then he growled and gently nibble it. Then he laughed. I laughed, too, but I did not know what this was, this nibbling of my arm.
Me...“O.K.””“What was that?”
Him “That means I like you!”
Me... O.K.”
Him “Do you want to nibble at me?”
Me...“No.”
Him “You don’t like me?”
Me...“No, well maybe I do.”
Him “Is it because I’m so cute?”
Me...“No.”
“Just because I’m cute doesn’t mean I don’t need what everyone else needs. Here, nibble me anywhere. Nibble my arm.”
He slid back his his shirt sleeve, unbuttoned the button, and pulled it back, exposing a large, tan arm. I could not believe that I actually leaned over and very quickly nibbled his wrist lightly. I then quickly picked up a magazine on the table and began reading in nervousness. After a few seconds, he buttoned his sleeve and slowly picked up a magazine. We read like this for a good few minutes.
During this time I was careful not to think about my life. My life was far away from us at the moment, in an green/beige home. It seemed as though I might never get past this moment. The salt of his skin intrigued my tongue. I might never again stand in the middle of the living room and wonder what to do next. I sometimes stood in a daze there, unable to generate enough momentum to eat, to move, to clean, to sleep. It seemed unlikely that someone who had just nibbled and been nibbled by a someone would have any kind of problems.
I read about bug sprays, I studied bookshelves on sale, and fake rocks & things that could hide a key all in those few minutes of silence. We were beginning to come back to reality.
Vin Yelk suddenly turned to me and said, “Hey.”
Me... “Hey”
“Hey, I having an amazing time with you.”
Me...“I am, too.”
“I’m going to write down a number, and I want you to guard it with your life.”
Me...“What?”
“This phone number must not falls into the wrong hands or I’ll have to get someone to change it, and that will be a big headache.”
Me...“O.K.”
He wrote the number on a page from the magazine and ripped it out and pressed it into my hand.
“This is my home phone. The only people who call this number is family. . So I’ll always answer it. You’ll always get through. And if someone else answers they will know where I am.”
I looked at the number.
Me... “It’s missing a digit.”
“I know. I want you to guess the last number and if you do you will have my heart, O.K?”
Me... Uhhh...“O.K. for fun I'll play... It’s three.”
His eyes lit up!
We turned our faces to the hallway, and heard my friend heading down the stairs. Vin Yelk gently took my hand. I was still holding the paper with the number, so he held it with me. I felt flush again. Nothing bad could ever happen to me while I was holding hands with him, and when he let go I would have the number that ended in three. I’d wanted a number like this my whole life.
The evening was ending now for us. My friend would be here shortly, like an easily drawn line it would all end. He helped me out of the chair and whispered "You're a thief young lady because you have my heart... My night may never be the same. I have to go and I won’t be able to say goodbye properly.”
Me... “That’s all right.”
“No, it really isn’t. It’s a travesty.”
Me...“But I understand it was a pleasure and joking for these few moments.”
“O.K., here’s what I’m going to do. Just before I leave, I’m going say, ‘Can I take you home?” ’
Me... “It’s O.K. I really do understand”
“No, this is important to me. I’ll say, ‘Can I take You home?’ And then you say your part.”
Me... “And... What’s my part?”
“You say, ‘Yes. “’
Me... “No that O.K... I can call my family.”
“Well then I’ll know where you live & where to find my heart!"
Me..."What do you mean?"
At the very least we’ll know this night's meaning to us.”
Me... "I don't think this is O.K.”"
However, we looked into each other’s eyes and in that moment nothing else mattered as much as that moment.
Then as the next few moments occured I graciously acted like the good host and friend as my heart was feeling guilty and breaking all at the same time.
Vin Yelk did take me home that night.
As I got out of his car I bid them both a good night and walked into my house.
That evening, I found myself standing in the middle of my living-room floor again. I had made my own dinner and eaten it, and then I had an idea that I might clean my bedroom. But halfway to the vacuum, I stopped on a whim, flirting with the emptiness in the center of the room. I wanted to see if I could start again. But, of course, I knew what the answer would be. The longer I stood there, the longer I had to stand there. It was intricate and exponential. I looked like I was doing nothing, but really I was busy. I was strategizing my next move. The fact that my next move was always not to move, didn’t make it any easier.
I let go of the idea of cleaning and just hoped that I would get to bed at a reasonable hour.
I thought of Vin Yelk as I lay in bed. And then I remembered the number. I jumped up and took it out of my pocket. He had written it across a picture of red ornate curtains. They were made out of a fabric that were designed for hotels of the rich & famous. I mouthed all the numbers and then said the missing one out loud: “Three.” It felt risky and I felt immediately bad but yet I yell again, “Three!” And moved restlessly around the bed as I pull the covers up around my neck. I laid there for an eternity before I fell asleep.
The next day I received a call from Vin Yelk. I was confused because I DID NOT give him my number. I asked him how did you get my number. He sounded so excited as he explained that my friend had broken the relationship off with him the previous night and she had given him my number when he asked her for it.
I felt sick with the thought I might have caused this breakup. I immediately call her. To my relief she had intended all along to break things off and her procrastination to go that evening should have been my first clue. She was relieved to be free from dating him. I was even more confused as to why she felt so uninterested in him. She assured me that he was a nice guy but just not her type. She encouraged me to try a crack at dating him. She thought we would be a perfect match.
I reluctantly took his second call asking me out. I still felt bad but could not keep myself from dating him for 9 months. He made my heart flutter and I felt happy many times over. We often laughed and flirted with the idea of a long life together. I met his family and was well received but yet life didn't happened as I envisioned. I had a different opportunity knock at my door and ultimately found myself many miles away. The distance was crazy to think we could continue with a relationship. Especially at that time in my young life. I was not even sure I was ready for a life long committed relationship.
We said our goodbyes with tears running down our cheeks. I wanted so badly to take it all back and run into his arms but I left anyway.
Over the course of my life, I’ve used the number many times. Not the telephone number, just the three. When I met my first husband, I used to whisper “three” at times of discord.
I whispered “three” when my grandmother died.
When my daughter gave me trouble through her teen years, I said “three” to myself as I lived through those trying times.
My late husband joked about my lucky number, but I’ve never told him all about Vin and the number three. I knew I shouldn’t underestimate a man’s capacity for feeling threatened.
You don’t have to be a great beauty for men to come to blows over you.
Then one morning, I was cleaning out my old jewelry box when I came upon a little slip of paper with red curtains on it. I thought I had lost it long ago, but, no, there it was, folded inside an old ring box. I hadn’t whispered “three” in years.
I stood by the light of the lamp and studied Vin Yelk’s handwriting. He was older now—we all were—I knew he surely had his own family, wife, kids & grandkids.
It occurred to me now that I had really missed the point entirely. He had wanted me from the moment he saw me that day. I looked at the bookcase across the room with the framed photo of my second & late husband sitting on top.
I had found a great love but yet I often wondered about the love I left that day.
I sat with the number in my lap and the phone in my hands.
I dialed all the digits, including the invisible one that had shepherded me through my adult life.
It was no longer in service. Of course it wasn’t. It was preposterous for me to have thought that it would still be his telephone number. I'm sure Vin Yelk had married and his children had long since grown up. He and his family was not still there. I looked down at the number and felt an another tidal wave of loss. It was too late. I had waited too long.
I listened to the sound of the clock across the room. But I couldn’t seem to stand up. Minutes passed, maybe an hour. Now it was starting to get dark. The neighbor's dog was barking and I was about to stand up with my little paper with red curtains. Finally, I rose and tucked his old number away again in my jewelry box. Tuck away again until that one day my children would find that number. It will have no meaning to them and they will throw it away. I guess that is how it should be.
Nana
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