Tuesday night after I got home from work, I called him.
“Miss me?” he said when he picked up.
“Sorry, wrong number.” I ended the call and sat there smiling for a moment before calling back. It rang so long I thought he might let it go to voicemail just to punish me, but he answered eventually.
“Very funny.”
“Sorry, couldn’t help it. How are you?”
“Good. You?”
“Good. Working this Thursday night?”
“No, I’m on days this week. Why?”
“My turn to take you somewhere.”
He groaned. “The ballet thing?”
“Hush. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”
“No, don’t come here. I mean, I’m all the way out in Novi. Where’s the show?”
I smiled at the way he called it a show. He probably pictured the Rockettes. “Downtown. But I don’t mind coming to get you. I want to see where you live.”
“No, I’ll just meet you. Don’t come here.”
The smile faded. I got that he was trying to spare me the drive, but he was acting a little weird, defensive almost, about my going to his house. Was he still that nervous about the attachment thing? “OK,” I said easily. “No worries. I’ll meet you at the Fox at seven-thirty. Does that work?”
“Perfect. Thanks.” His relief was evident in his voice.
“You’re welcome. See you then.”
#
I subbed out my last few Thursday evening classes to get ready for the ballet. For this non-date, I wore a pretty black lace cocktail dress with three quarter sleeves, a deep V neckline, and a pale pink satin ribbon belt. It was probably a little dressier than I had to be, but since I wore sweats to work and didn’t go to fancy places too often, my chances for dressing up were limited. And I liked how I felt in a dress and heels, my hair up, perfume on my neck—it wasn’t all for Charlie.
Confession: it was mostly for Charlie.
I had no idea if he would wear something nice or show up in his usual jeans and sweaters, and another good thing about not being his girlfriend or even his date was that I didn’t even have to care. We could both wear what we wanted to and be happy about it.
But I took too long to get ready, and traffic was bad getting downtown because of an accident. Parking was madness, and I paid twenty bucks to park in a lot a little closer, because it was going on quarter to eight. Before getting out of the car, I texted Charlie. What I meant to say was, Just parked. I’ll be there shortly. But because my fingers were jittery and I was in a rush, what I sent him was, Just parked. I’ll be there shirtless.
I hit Send just as I realized what Auto Correct had done to me. “Shit!” I flailed, dropping my phone into my lap. But I didn’t have time to text him again, so I scooped up my phone and took off. The sidewalks were wet and slippery, making walking in heels difficult. But I went as fast as I could, holding my wool dress coat closed as my heels clicked quickly on the cement. I hadn’t even taken the time to button it. My phone buzzed and I glanced at it.
Awesome. I’m not wearing pants.
I smiled and moved a little faster, surprised at how excited I was to see him. I shivered, although the temperature had warmed up slightly. My legs were cold, though, because I hadn’t worn stockings, and when I looked down I was dismayed to see how ghostly white they were beneath my dark coat. Frowning at my feet, I noticed how much darker my “nude” shoes were than my skin color. Why do they call it nude, anyway? It’s not my nude.
“Erin.”
Surprised when I heard Charlie say my name, I looked up but didn’t see him. Turning around, I scanned the crowd pushing toward the glass doors into the theater but still couldn’t find him.
“Hey. I’m right here.” A hand grasped my elbow.
I turned, and my jaw dropped. Charlie in a police officer’s uniform was hot, but Charlie in a suit and tie was downright scorching. He was always handsome, even in casual clothing, but I felt feverish seeing him dressed up. It wasn’t flashy either, just a simple gray two-button suit, worn with a white shirt and solid navy tie. He wore no overcoat, which let me appreciate the little details more—the way the jacket hugged his broad shoulders and slim torso, the way the cuffs of his white shirt peeked out from the sleeves, the white sliver of his pocket square. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
“You look beautiful.” He kissed my cheek. “Even if you are wearing a top.”
“Thank you. You look…different.” I was having a hard time recovering my senses.
He smiled, those blue eyes lighting up. “You didn’t think I knew how to dress up?”
I grinned sheepishly. “Maybe. I don’t know. Anyway, you look great. I’m glad you’re wearing pants. I meant shortly, by the way. Not shirtless.”
“I knew what you meant.” He leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Any chance I can talk you into a hotel room instead of a ballet? There’s a nice one right around the corner. We can both go shirtless.”
My belly flipped, and for a second, I almost said fuck yes, let’s go and took off running. But I wanted to enjoy him in that suit a while before I got him out of it. “No. You promised.”
He sighed, straightening up. “OK, then. Let’s do it.” Taking my arm, he led me to the doors and held one open for me. I picked up the tickets at Will Call, and we headed into the lobby. It was there I noticed how many people seemed to be staring at us. It was so blatant that I began to feel self-conscious, patting my hair, adjusting my dress, running my tongue over my teeth to make sure I didn’t have lipstick on them.
“Quit fidgeting. You’re like a kid.”
“I can’t help it. People are staring at me.”
“They’re staring at me, not you.”
I slapped him on the arm.
“What do you expect?” He laughed, elbowing me gently as we made our way down the aisle to our seats. “You’re that kind of beautiful, Erin. You turn heads. Stop conversations.”
My heart trilled happily, but I rolled my eyes. “Stop it.”
“No, really. You should be glad. One day soon it’ll all be over. You’ll be a dowdy hausfrau with a dozen rugrats hanging off your ruined figure. So enjoy it while you can, huh?” He looked at me with eyebrows raised.
“Oh my God. You’re such an asshole.”
“You love me.” We’d reached our row, and he stepped aside to let me in first.
“I don’t. I really don’t,” I told him, sidestepping past a few people already seated. “I can’t even believe I’m taking you to the ballet, something beautiful and meaningful to me.” I sat down and he sank into the seat next to me. “You’ll probably just make fun of it the whole time.”
“I won’t, I swear. There’s probably a no-talking rule during the show anyway.” He looked around. “Although there’s a lot of kids here. Are they really going to be quiet the whole time?”
“Yes, and you are too.”
He leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Can I at least make buttcracker jokes?”
“No. My brother exhausted all those going to my performances when we were younger.”
The lights dimmed then, and a voice came over the speaker reminding us not to talk, take photos, or use cell phones during the performance.
Charlie did well with the rules at first, but after a while he started to lean over and whisper at particular moments. When the Prince appeared, he said, “Where can I get a pair of tight pants like that? I think they’d look good on me.”
When the female dancer performing the Arabian Coffee dance exhibited her supple back and gorgeous extension, he said, “So are you that flexible? Because that move could be useful.”
During the Waltz of the Flowers, he said, “Don’t they feed girls in Russia? Why are they all so skinny?”
But he never once yawned, took out his phone, or asked how much longer, and when my favorite piece of music came on and I sat up taller in my seat, Charlie glanced over at me and took my hand.
“So?” I asked as he followed me up the aisle after the curtain call. “Was it torture?”
“Not at all. Thank you for taking me. Actually, it was very entertaining.”
“I’m so glad. Because Swan Lake is coming this spring, you know.”
He put his hand on my hip and squeezed. “I can hardly wait. I hope you’re just as excited by the Wings game we’re going to next week.”
I giggled. “Ballet and hockey. Our non-dates are so eclectic.”
“They are indeed. So what do you think? Want to grab a drink?”
We entered the soaring, ornate lobby where the crowd milled more slowly. “Sure. I have an idea. Have you ever been to Cliff Bell’s? It’s right nearby here, and—”
“Hold on one sec. Is that girl lost?” Charlie was looking over my shoulder, and when I turned I saw a little girl, maybe five or six, looking tearful and worried over by the wall.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I can go ask.”
But Charlie was already moving toward her. When he reached her side, he bent down to speak at her eye level. “Hi there. My name is Charlie, and I’m a police officer. Are you lost?”
She nodded, perhaps too frightened to speak.
I leaned over Charlie’s shoulder and noticed her meticulously formed bun and the little ballerina charm necklace she wore. “I bet you take ballet.” She nodded again, her huge blue eyes shiny. “Are you here with your mom?”
She shook her head. “My dad.” Her voice was as tiny as the hands she’d curled into a ball at her tummy. “I had to go to the bathroom and he said he’d wait by the wall, but I can’t find him.”
“Which wall, honey? This one?” Charlie gestured behind her.
“No, the one by the bathroom. But he wasn’t there, so I went looking. Then I got lost.” A fresh wave of tears spilled over.
“Hmmm.” Charlie stood up. “What does he look like? Sometimes dads get confused. Let’s see if we can find him closer to where the bathroom is.”
I reached for her hand, and she gave it to me, and to my surprise, she reached for Charlie’s too. He took it, and the sight of that little hand in his big one squeezed my heart. “I think Charlie is right,” I said. “I bet he meant the wall over there where the ladies room is. You’re a big girl, using the ladies room all by yourself.”
We led her across the lobby and as soon as we got close to the opposite side, a voice rang out. “Ruby!”
“Daddy!” The little girl dropped our hands and took off running.
A harried-looking man in maybe his early forties rushed over and scooped her up. “Oh my God, there you are.” She clung to his neck, her small feet dangling. Over her shoulder, he said, “Thank you so much. She went into the bathroom and I realized she didn’t have her coat. I ran back to the seats to grab it and she must have come out before I got back.” He set her down and held up a little pink dress coat. “Here, honey.” Ruby slipped her arms into the sleeves.
“No problem. It’s crowded here tonight.” I smiled at the relieved dad. “Good thing Charlie noticed her over there.”
He straightened and offered his hand to Charlie, who shook it firmly. “Thank you so much. This single dad stuff is new to me. I’m still learning.”
“No problem. Glad to help.”
“Do you have kids?” The guy looked from me to Charlie.
“No, no. We’re just friends,” Charlie said quickly.
Too quickly.
“Right, this isn’t even a date,” I added.
The guy looked like he understood. “A date. What’s that?” He shook his head, laughed ruefully, and helped his daughter button up her coat. “Well, thanks again. Ruby, what do you say?”
“Thank you,” she stated dutifully.
“You’re welcome,” Charlie and I said together. I leaned down to her. “Keep dancing, OK? I bet you’ll be up there someday.”
She beamed at me, and her father sent me a grateful look as he took her hand. “Have a good night.”
We made our way outside, and I pulled my coat tighter around me. “We can walk if you want. It’s pretty close.”
“Sounds good.”
He was quiet as we started the trek down Woodward toward Elizabeth. “How’d you happen to see that little girl? Sixth sense as a cop?”
He shrugged. “Something like that.”
“You were very sweet with her.”
“I have a soft spot for little girls, I guess.”
“Ha!” I elbowed him in the gut. “Guess that must have developed after you abducted my hamster.”
“Are you ever gonna let me live that down?” He threw an arm around my neck and squeezed. “It’s been twenty years!”
I laughed. “No. Some things aren’t forgivable.”
“Don’t say that.” He let go of me.
“Charlie, I was just teasing, come on.” Slipping my arm through his, I took his hand. “I forgive you for the hamster-napping, OK? I absolve you.”
“What about my other crimes against humanity?”
“Hmm. I can’t speak to those, I suppose.” We turned the corner and headed down Elizabeth toward Park. “But your criminal past is behind you, right?”
“Guess that depends on your definition of crime.”
I glanced at him, squeezing his hand. “Hey, you’re way too serious here. I was trying to give you a compliment for once. You were very nice to that little girl.”
Finally, he smiled. “Thanks. A compliment from you, that is pretty rare. Usually you’re calling me an asshole.”
We approached the entrance to the thirties-era jazz club, music filtering through the revolving door. “I call ‘em like I see ‘em. And tonight, you’re not an asshole, you’re a very nice guy.”
He caught my elbow, yanking me back against him before I could get in the door. “Don’t count on that. The night is young.”
Yes, it was.