Love on Fire part 1
Hello Readers!! I first released this string story in September 2012. Thought I would repost this story and see what everyone thinks of it. I look forward to reading your thoughts. Please feel free to leave comments and suggestions. Enjoy the ride.
What am I going to do? My mother is all over my back because I haven’t given her any grand children. The idea of having children scares and excites me, but it’s a distant dream without a husband and I don’t even have a boyfriend.
The last time I went out on a date was eight months ago. My baby sister set me up with a blind date. How low can you go, when your younger sister has to set you up on a date? I only went because if I didn’t go I would have been home alone as usual.
The guy she set me up with was a coroner for the Wayne County Morgue. I guess she figured since I am in the medical field he and I would have something in common. She was so wrong.
All he talked about was himself and how much money he made. The only time he didn’t talk about himself was when he said, “Is Connie short for Constance?”
“Yes it is,” I replied.
He put a fork full of food in his mouth chewed a few times and continue to tell me about the new wall to wall sound system he had just installed in his condo.
When the bill came he reached into his crumpled suit coat and pulled out a calculator. I thought maybe there was a mistake or something with the bill. My mouth fell wide open when he looked up and said, “Your half of the bill is twenty-eight dollars.”
I was so astounded I couldn’t speak. I reach out and snatched the bill from him before he could object.
“Waiter,” I yelled out to no one in particular.
I fumbled in my purse until I found my wallet. I pulled out my MasterCard and stood up, looking around the restaurant for the nice young man who had served us.
“What are you doing,” the frumpy little man said from across the table.
“I’m paying the bill,” I replied indignantly.
“I told you I would pay my half.”
I rounded the table and leaned down so that no one near us could hear what I was about to say.
“Listen to me you little piece of shit. As long as you live don’t you ever go out to dinner with a woman and not tell her that the dinner is Dutch. Did you even consider that I may not have had any money on me. Plus, you should be happy someone is even willing to go out with your short stumpy ass.”
Just as I finished my sentence the waiter appeared. I handed him my MasterCard and returned to my seat to wait for him to return. My date reached into his back pocket and nearly fell over out of the chair trying to get his wallet out. He then counted out fifty-six dollars and tried to pass it across the table. I just stared at him.
When the waiter returned with the credit card receipt, I signed my name, left him a twenty percent tip and then I stood up and walked out of the restaurant leaving my date and his money behind.
Apparently my sister told my mother about my date and how I walked out on him and now my mother thinks that I’m being too picky. My mother calls twice a week to see how I am progress with my search for a man. I tell her I’m not searching and that I don’t need a man to make me complete, but inside I know I am lying. I just wish she would stop calling to remind me of it.
Thanksgiving was fast approaching and I was dreading another family dinner where I would once again be the center of attraction. After everyone doted on my sister kids, the attention would turn to my empty womb. I was tempted to ask one of the guys at work to come to dinner with me to keep them off my back, but then they would ride me for a wedding date.
I’m just getting off work and its seven forty in the morning. I was too lazy to stop before work and now I’m driving on fumes. I pull into the gas station and pull out my credit card before hiding my purse on the floor of the back seat. I walk inside to pay the attended and come to a screeching halt. There were at least three people in line ahead of me.
I get in line behind an elderly woman in a house dress and reluctantly wait my turn. I leaned out to see who was at the front of the line after about three minutes of waiting. A tall man in a navy suit was standing at the counter with his arms folded.
“Can we move it along,” I yell out. I hate lines of any sort.
The man in the navy suit turns around to see who made the comment and I am awe struck when I see his face. The best I can say is “pure eye candy.”
“I’m waiting for my change,” he says over his shoulder.
I’m praying he doesn’t think it was me who just yelled out a moment ago. I survey the line and the only other woman in the line is the elderly woman in the house dress. I’m busted.
He walks toward me and stops just as he gets to the door and smiles showing me his pearly whites. I can’t decided if I should apologize or not. The decision was made for me when he said, “I hope I didn’t make you late for work.”
“Ah, no. I just got off,” I replied.
“Maybe I can take you to lunch sometime to make up for the inconvenience.”
“Sure, that would be nice.”
“Can I get your phone number.”
I fumble in my lab coat pocket and pull out a pin and tear off a piece of a nurse’s note and write out my home phone, cell phone and my email. I want this man to be able to reach me at all cost.
“I’ll call you,” he says after I give him the piece of paper.
Please Lord, you know I need this. Please let him call.