Fools Rush In

Yes, I reassured myself, things would be perfect between us. This first-time awkwardness would surely pass.

I HAD TO WORK IN THE MORNING, so I crept out of bed, grabbed some clothes and tiptoed to the bathroom. After I showered, I took Digger out, made coffee and peeked in on Joe. He lay on his back, half-covered by the white sheet, looking like an ad for Calvin Klein cologne.

I sat on the edge of the bed and put my hand on his warm chest. He didn’t stir. “Joe?” I said softly. He opened his eyes.

“Oh, hey,” he said huskily, pulling me in for a kiss, making me glad I had just brushed.

“I have to go to work,” I said regretfully, running my hand over his smooth shoulder.

“Okay,” he murmured, closing his eyes again.

Okay? Was that it? As if reading my mind, Joe opened his eyes again,

“See you later?”

“Sure,” I answered. “There’s coffee if you want it.” I kissed him on the cheek and left.

Things were going great, I thought as I drove to work. I hadn’t been overeager, hadn’t tried to pin him down for our next date. The mix-up in nights had actually worked out well, since it seemed as if I wasn’t fixated on Joe, when of course we all knew the truth. But it had fooled him, and I had actually come off looking pretty good.

I think I could now safely say that Joe Carpenter was my boyfriend.

THE CLINIC WAS ALWAYS SLOW on Sundays, and we had only a few patients that day. Jeff, our college-boy temp, greeted me sweetly and then immersed himself in his books, leaving me free to talk on the phone, starting with Curtis, who definitely deserved the first call. After filling him in on the mix-up and subsequent nooky, we giggled happily together like ninth graders.

“So when can we officially meet your new boy toy, princess?”

“I’ll let you know,” I said. “Soon, I hope. Maybe we can have drinks down here.”

“Oooh. Venture into Hetero-Land? Well, now, that could be fun. And we could see your house. What have you done on that lately?”

We chatted a while longer in the comfortable way of old friends, talking about trivial things like the new lantern that Curtis had found at the marine surplus store or the teak desk organizer that I had ordered from Target. Once again, I thanked him profusely for his moral support, undying friendship and wardrobe advice, all of which were of equal import, reminded him that he was due for a tetanus booster and blew kisses into the phone.

After hanging up with Curtis, I wandered into the reception area and chatted up Jeff for a few minutes. He handed me some insurance forms, and I went back to my office to fill them out. That took ten whole minutes. I picked up the phone and called Katie.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Katie, it’s—”

“Michael, get out of that cupboard right now! And don’t whine at me! I am on the phone! Hello?” she demanded in that schizophrenic way mothers of young children have.

“Having a bad day?” I asked.

“Oh, hi, Millie,” she said.

“Want me to call back?” I asked.

“You know, lately they just hate me talking on the phone,” she answered. I could hear the sound of a toy siren in the background, followed by a crash and then a wail. “I don’t want to hear it!” Katie tersely informed…me? No, the boys. “Okay, they’re locked out. How’s it going?”

“Oh, fine,” I said, smiling.

“Do I hear the purr of a satisfied woman?” Katie laughed. Her voice changed. “Stop banging!”

“I hope you’re not talking to me,” I giggled.

“No, you can bang all you like,” she answered. “Listen, you can hear that this really isn’t the best time. Do you want to have that overnight we talked about? I have a couple of days off this week.”

“Sure!” I said. “I’ll tell you all about some recent developments.” We consulted our calendars and made a date.

“Mil, I have to run,” Katie said. “But I can’t wait for our night out. Corey, do not hit the door with that thing! You’re making dents! I’ll call you tomorrow, Millie. Put that down! Bye!”

Joe was gone when I came home, his coffee cup in the sink next to mine. I gave Digger a long tummy rub, cleaned up his mess on the kitchen floor (hoping he hadn’t pooped while Joe was still in the house) and wandered around. Peeking in the bedroom, there was absolute proof that I had indeed accomplished my mission…rumpled sheets and a condom wrapper in the wastebasket. And oh, hooray! There was a note on the pillow!

Millie—See you soon.

Joe?

A man of few words. The smiley face was cute. A little dopey, but cute. I gave the note a kiss, then lay back on the bed, grinning like an idiot. Complete and total satisfaction radiated from me. Joe had spent the night. I grabbed the pillow on which his perfect head had rested and inhaled. After a few minutes of reverie and self-congratulations, I rose, poured myself a glass of water and went out on the deck. The phone rang the instant my bottom touched the seat.

“Hi, Aunt Mil! It’s Danny!” my nephew barked into the phone like the Irish setter that I suspected he was.

“Hello, Danny,” I grinned.

“Wanna go to the movies with my dad and me?” he asked. Now granted, most seventeen-year-old boys would not be caught dead going out with their dads and, God forbid, their aunts. But Danny was exceptional. He would probably start a new teenage trend in airing out aging relatives.

“Sure,” I answered, feeling a sudden bittersweet rush of emotion. A year from now, Danny would be getting ready for college, and an evening like this one would be a thing of the past. I could hear Sam’s voice low in the background

“Dad wants to know if you’d rather see Sisters Forever…the new Jackie Chan flick…Star Fighters or…what was that last one, Dad? Guerilla Politics, ‘an important documentary from one of America’s finest filmmakers.’”

“Jackie Chan,” I answered immediately.

“Whoo-hoo! Jackie Chan it is, Dad! We’ll pick you up in half an hour, okay?”

They arrived shortly, and I squeezed into the pickup’s front seat between them like a giant toddler. Once at the theater, Danny bounded to the concession stand while Sam paid for all three tickets.

“You don’t have to buy my ticket anymore, Sam,” I protested.

“Years of habit, Millie.” He smiled down at me as Danny returned, carrying a bucket of popcorn the size of a silo and a vat of soda that contained enough fluid to hydrate a human for a week. We found our seats, me again in the middle.

“So what made you boys think of old, decrepit Aunt Millicent tonight?” I asked as Danny waved to three girls a few rows in front of us. They giggled in response and began whispering furiously, casting playful glances back at Danny as he devoured the popcorn with shocking speed.

“Oh, well,” Sam said, looking a little bit embarrassed. “I just thought maybe you felt a little, uh, down after Friday night.” At my blank stare, he said, “You know, your friend canceling on you and all.”

“Oh!” I said. “Actually, we saw each other last night.” At the words, a blush warmed the tips of my ears as I remembered making out on the couch with the lovely and delicious Joe Carpenter.

“Millie’s got a boyfriend, Millie’s got a boyfriend,” my nephew chanted, tossing some popcorn at the girls, who shrieked obligingly.

“Children should be seen and not heard, Daniel,” I said, smiling as I said it.

“Really?” blurted Sam. “You’re seeing someone?”

“Try to conceal your surprise, Officer,” I said sharply.

“No, I just…you didn’t say anything, that’s all. So who is he?”

“Never you mind, Sam-I-Am,” I replied, enjoying my moment of mystery.

“I’m gonna say hi to those girls,” Danny announced as he unfolded his lanky frame from the seat. As soon as he was out of earshot, I turned to Sam.

“Did you talk to him about Rich Guy Prep?”

“Yup. He doesn’t want to go,” Sam answered, the relief clear in his eyes. “Doesn’t see any point in it. I did try to put it in terms of being an opportunity and all that crap.”

“Which he saw right through,” I surmised.

“Yup. Trish wasn’t happy, but I sure as hell was. I can’t imagine why she thought he’d want to leave his senior year, but he talked to her.”

“I’m glad,” I said, patting Sam’s arm. “We can’t have you rattling around in that house alone.”

“Well, it would have been okay, if Danny had a real reason for going, not just some new idea of Trish’s.” Sam smiled. “But, yeah, I was glad.”

“Good thing Danny’s so sensible.”

“Yup. Always been a smart one,” Sam agreed, nodding.

“And handsome,” I added.

“Just like his old man,” Sam said. I laughed. Danny returned to his seat and the previews started.

About halfway through the movie, which, I must confess, I was thoroughly enjoying, Sam got up and climbed over Danny and me, presumable to hit the loo. Danny leaned over to me.

“Can you keep a secret?” he whispered.

“I hope so,” I whispered back.

“It’s important.”

“Okay. What is it, big guy?”

“I need help on a college application,” he whispered, taking a quick look around.

“Sure,” I said. “Why is it a secret?”

“It’s for Notre Dame. Early decision,” Danny concluded. “I don’t want my dad to know in case I don’t get in.”

My eyes grew wet as I imagined Sam’s joy if Danny went to his alma mater. “If you don’t get in, there’s no justice in the world,” I said. “Of course I’ll help you.”

“Great. You’re the best, Aunt Mil.”

How was it that a compliment from a child, albeit a rather old, very tall child, could make me feel so humble? I squeezed Danny’s arm as Sam clambered back to his seat. He handed me a box.

“Milk Duds,” he whispered, opening his own. “It’s just not a movie without Milk Duds.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A FEW DAYS LATER, after several dozen kisses for her boys and myriad instructions for her parents, Katie climbed into my car for our sleepover.

It was the end of June, a perfect, clear summer afternoon, the temperature about seventy, the breeze just stirring the leaves. Katie and I hadn’t had any real time together for a while, and I felt a rush of love for her as we drove to my house. Each time I thought about my idea that she needed a husband, I felt slightly ashamed. She did seem happy, the boys were wonderful and her apartment clean and cheerfully cluttered. Who was I to say she needed more?

Once home, I showed her the newest changes and additions, pointing out the recent picture of Corey and Michael that I’d had matted and framed. She blushed with pleasure at seeing their photo hung so prominently in my living room and accepted the beer I handed her.

“Is it too early for alcohol?” she asked.

“Oh, no,” I answered. “It’s thirteen minutes after four. Perfectly acceptable.”

“Don’t even think about it, dog,” she said to Digger, who was gently preparing to mount her leg. He slunk away, dejected, and I slipped him a chew stick as a consolation prize.

“Look what I brought, Millie. Just like old times.” From out of her overnight bag, Katie pulled an array of containers…mud masks, moisturizers, nail polish.

We spent a happy hour (so to speak) applying various products to our faces and lounging around, looking at the InStyle and People magazines I had bought for the occasion.

“So things are good, Katie?” I asked, somewhat hesitantly.

She smiled. “Yeah, things are really good. The boys aren’t so demanding, although they tend to bicker a lot these days. And I talked to the bank about a house. My parents will help, but I want to do most of it alone. They’ve already helped me so much.” She leaned her head against the arm of the sofa and looked at her fingernails, now polished a deep red. Her blond hair fell in a smooth curtain, almost touching the floor.

I was struck, as I often was, by her effortless beauty, and even more by the fact that she was completely unaffected by it. Knowing Katie’s merciless four older brothers, I imagined whatever vanity Katie might have once had had long been erased.

She smiled at me. “So, Millie, I’ve been dying to hear. How’s Operation Joe?”

I sat up straighter in the chair I was lounging in. “Well, Katherine, funny you should ask.” I told her about last weekend’s big dinner, Joe’s screwup in nights, the macaroni and cheese, all of it.

“And tell, me, Millie,” my friend asked, “did you…do it?”

I paused for effect. “Yes. We did it.”

“Oh, my God!” she shrieked. “Oh, Millie!” We burst into a fit of adolescent giggling, clutching hands and snorting. “Fifteen years in the making! I can’t believe it!”

“It was sixteen years, thank you very much, and you have to believe it, because it’s true. I videotaped it.”

“Oh, my God, did you really?” Katie sat up abruptly.

“No, no, for God’s sake…well, not yet, anyway.” We laughed some more.

“So.” Katie took another swig of her beer. “How was it?”

My face grew warm. “Well…um, well, it was actually…you know…it—it wasn’t great.”

“Wasn’t great? Not great? Oh, my God! How could it not be great? You’ve been dreaming about this since we were teenagers! What happened?”