The light seeping in through my eyelids stirs me from my sleep.
I blink a few times then open my eyes as the ceiling comes into focus. Looking over at
the window and the soft bluish light streaming through, I guess it to be around 6:30 am.
Something tugs at my gut causing it to flip. Hmmm, what’s that about?
My stomach pulls at me again like it’s trying to tell me something. What the heck? I search my mind for what could be causing this feeling.
Suddenly, my eyes pop open and I sit upright in bed as the gnawing feeling takes form. It’s Saturday - I have a date today.
Gulp. Okay, too much information, my stomach does a hard flip. Hard to believe I was so excited about this a few days ago. Unfortunately, as each day drew me nearer to the big event my excitement went down and utter fear of how to navigate this thing went up.
I shouldn’t have watched the Hallmark Mystery channel last night, it only made things worse. Now it wasn’t enough to be afraid of going on my first date. I had to add to it the possibility the guy I was meeting was a sociopath.
Calm down, Ruby. It’s not like he’s a stranger, he’s my mother’s friend’s son. He’s only a stranger to me.
Although, it is my mother’s new friend’s son. I mean what do we really know about her? She likes yarn… and… she has a son… who’s name is Stanley… and she likes my mother. Yeah, that’s not the best sign.
Flip, goes my stomach again.
This is a mistake.
I need to call this date off.
I reach up and touch my forehead. I do feel a bit warm. I think there’s some kind of flu going around too. Didn’t I hear that on the local news last night?
Also, the lady in front of me at Walgreens yesterday was buying Theraflu. She probably infected me.
Mother will be furious if I cancel my date, but what can I do? It’s actually not responsible for me to go out in public when I’m contagious. I’ll spread the virus to Stanley and everyone at the Bread Basket.
What if I get Stanley sick and he ends up in the hospital or something? The flu is serious business. People die from the flu. At least that one famous guy did, Jim something or other, who created the Muppets from Sesame Street. It’s not something to mess around with.
I slump back down in bed. I’m going to go downstairs right now and call Stanley. I'll apologize for the late notice, and tell him I have the flu and that I got it from the lady at Walgreens. I’ll tell him we can reschedule. It’ll all work out.
My stomach rolls again at the thought of rescheduling. Ugh, but then I still have to go on a date with him at some future time. There’s no permanent way out of this is there? I'm just delaying the inevitable.
I lay in bed contemplating this dilemma. Then, sit up in a decided fashion. I'll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. Besides, I’m sick, it’s not like I have a choice about this, I can’t go.
The only problem that remains is how do I tell my mother? I can’t say Stanley canceled. She’ll find out the truth from Stanley’s mother.
She’s been singing her way through the house ever since Stanley called a few days ago. She even complimented me on a blouse I wore yesterday - a blouse I’ve had for like eight years.
It's like we’ve had a breakthrough in our relationship. I can see how she really did have my best interests at heart. It's clear from the effort she went through to set up this date. Which makes me canceling the date even worse. Uggh.
The clock on my nightstand shows five minutes to nine.
I can’t hold off much longer if I’m going to cancel. I’ll just go downstairs, have a cup of coffee, then get up my nerve to make the call.
I swing my feet over the side of the bed, cram them into slippers and pad over to the door. Then I carefully urge the doorknob to the right and open the door, willing the hinge not to squeak. There’s a chance my mother’s still in bed and I’m going to try and keep her there as long as possible, at least until I talk to Stanley - one challenge at a time.
I make my way to the stairs and head down avoiding the creaky steps.
Reaching the foyer, I listen for movement from above, hear none, and exhale in relief. Then, I creep through the living room and freeze as the sound of my mother singing comes from the kitchen. Crap. Abort, abort.
Quickly, turning I step hard in the direction of the stairs, causing the wood floor to squeak under my feet. “Ruby, are you up?” mother calls out from the kitchen, singing my name. “ I thought I was going to have to wake the sleeping beauty up this morning,” mother laughs. “You need to get in a good breakfast so you're bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for your date today.” mother says singing the last four words.
Sleeping beauty? Okay, she's officially gone off the rails.
Last week she said, in reference to my lack of male companionship, I should consider coloring my mousy blonde hair and schedule a makeover session with her hairdresser Barbara. Suddenly, I’m sleeping beauty.
Crap, how am I going to tell her I’m canceling the date. I’m not prepared for this conversation. I’m not even prepared for the phone call to Stanley yet.
I place my hand on my forehead - please let it be warm - but it's cool to the touch. She's never going to fall for the flu excuse. I mean, not excuse; fact.
It's a fact that I have the flu or am pretty sure I have the flu. I mean the lady at Walgreens and all that; there is some fact there.
Yeah, who am I kidding? The flu is not going to fly as an excuse. She's going to crush this story like styrofoam.
I hear her humming as I stand frozen in the living room trying to figure out my next move.
I’ve got it, monthly cramps, it always works as an excuse in TV commercials.
Forget it, she'll load me up with Tylenol and push me out the door, like she did last month when I was trying to get out of church bingo.
Think, Ruby. My heart races as I search my mind for ideas.
“Ruby, have you picked out your outfit for today? You should wear the dress you wore to Dorothy’s daughter’s wedding.” mother calls from the kitchen, “And, I was thinking my pink lipstick would look good on you. Ruby, can you hear me? What are you doing? I poured you coffee and it’s getting cold.” She snaps, her tone suddenly changing.
I swivel on my feet and turning back toward the kitchen, knowing I can’t hold off any longer. Then push through the swinging kitchen door as my mother looks over with a small smile.
She's smiling at me. I'm gobsmacked. I can’t remember when she’s looked this happy. You’d think she was going on a date with Stanley. “Mother, I think that dress is a bit much for lunch,” I say as I walk over to the table and sit down, then add, “I haven’t decided what I’m going to wear yet. I’ll figure something out.” My stomach responds with a flip at the thought of the date being back on again. I put my hand on my belly, trying to calm the inner storm, then get up and walk over to the cabinet for a coffee cup.
“Ruby, I already poured you a cup right there.” Mother snaps as she sees me grabbing a coffee cup from the cabinet.
“What?” I look in the direction she's pointing, then walk over to grab the coffee cup and head out of the kitchen.
“Ruby, you didn’t eat anything.” Mother yells after me.
I head up the stairs as I hear her call out. “Careful with that coffee, you know I don’t like you taking food to your room. Remember what happened with that juice.”
You mean the juice I spilled when I was seven? Geez. I shut my bedroom door, shutting out the sound of my mother’s singing.
Okay, well that went well. I set the coffee cup down on the dresser. I don’t think I'm getting out of this date. My fear of my mother far outweighs my fear of lunch with a man.
Which means I’m going to lunch today whether I have the imaginary flu or not. That is unless some natural disaster hits before noon, and Willoughby isn’t exactly famous for natural disasters.
It’s weird how yesterday my date still seemed like a great idea. What a difference a day makes. My insides begin to turn again and I press my hand down hard on my stomach to still it.
The truth is, even though I'm terrified, a small part of me feels a glimmer of hope at the prospect of what today might bring.
After my foiled attempt at changing my fate, I continue on with the rest of my morning trying to distract myself. Thankfully, mother decides she wants to check out a sale at Big Lots, and then we stop by the Yarn Barn, for some more of the lilac yarn she bought on super sale.
When we get home it's time for me to start getting ready for my date.
I look over at the outfit I laid out on my bed earlier that morning. The one I picked out last Sunday after hours of rummaging through my closet into the wee hours of the night (yes, mother I fibbed, of course I had an outfit picked out).
I was still unsure of my choice, though. I decided to go with a pair of gray dress pants and a blouse with small light blue cornflowers on it. Mother was not a fan of this choice, informing me if the date didn't go well, it was because I dressed like a man - because men often wear silk blouses with light blue cornflowers on them.
Soon I was ready to leave for the restaurant - as was my mother, I had to lock the doors on the car to prevent her from jumping in and accompanying me. Though she still followed me down the road barking who knows what at me like a dog.
Driving down the street toward the restaurant, I start going over my list of things to talk about with Stanley. I run scenes from various romance movies I boned up on in the last few nights realizing the BBC probably wasn’t the best choice for romantic advice, considering the movies all took place in the 1800s.
As I close in on the Bread Basket Cafe my hands begin to shake uncontrollably and my stomach starts somersaulting. I Grab my abdomen with my hand trying to stop the hand shaking and the flipping in one swoop.
Pulling into the restaurant's parking lot I glance at the clock on the dash hoping I’m on time - I made it with ten minutes to spare. Leaving early turned out to be a good idea. An accident on Walnut street had traffic backed up a couple of miles, making me fearful I may end up late.
All I could think as I sat gridlocked in traffic was, what if he doesn't wait for me? My mind raced with possible outcomes all ending with the relationship being over before it began.
If it weren’t for the wrath I would receive from my mother for ruining my chances, I might have considered the delay a blessing. In the end, it didn’t matter. They finally moved the car off to the side and traffic began to flow again.
And now, I’m here. I made it. I pull into the first available spot in the parking lot. Then jump out of the car and head toward the restaurant.
The sound of my car engine catches my attention causing me to stop. I turn and flush in embarrassment as I realize I’ve not only left the keys in the car, but the engine running.
Racing back to the car door, I look around to see if anyone’s noticed, jump in and grab the keys out of the ignition - thankfully I hadn’t locked the door. Then I walk, run toward the front entrance of the restaurant, noticing my reflection in the restaurant's picture window as I speed by.
Yikes - hold on. I stop and smooth my hair and straighten my blouse, using the window as a mirror, then proceed to the entrance, taking a forced deep breath as I go.
Reaching for the front door handle I take one last look at my reflection and sigh, then open the door. A jingling bell announces my entrance into the restaurant causing the bustling room full of customers to take a collective glance in my direction and I feel my cheeks redden.
I scan the faces of the guests looking for a man with a face like a “Stanley” or maybe a look in his eyes that says: “I’m waiting for my date with Ruby”. Nothing.
Then it occurs to me, what if he didnt show? What if the whole thing is a bust?
Maybe the way I came across on the phone was a put off or he heard some bad things about me from someone at Bertson's Grocers. Lord only know what that would be?
I hear my name echo through the fog of bad thoughts and I snap out of my mental spiral. ”Hello, are you Ruby?” The voice comes from my right. I turn toward it, heart beating wildly. This is it - the moment I meet him.
My eyes lock with those of a young man who couldn’t be more than 18. “Are you Ruby?” he asks again. I nod in disbelief. Is my mother off her rocker? I mean, I might be desperate, but a teenager? What the..?
“Your party is already seated, follow me.” the young man says smiling then turns and walks away.
“Party?” I watch the boy move through the restaurant to a booth near the back where I can see a man's elbow sticking out.
Wait, this kid’s not my date? I breathe out in relief. Then rush to catch up with the boy, reaching the table as he walks away.
The man sitting at the table sees me and begins to stand. “Ruby?” He asks as he reaches out his hand. “Stanley Foster, nice to meet you”.
I reach my hand out to meet Stanley’s and our hands come together in a rigid handshake, making our date feel more like a business meeting.
Stanley’s dressed in brown khakis, a light blue shirt, and a patterned taupe and blue tie. His hair is light brown, with a severe side part, neatly combed off his face. He’s wearing tortoise framed glasses and has a slight build, that appears to include his hands. They feel delicate in mine - and frankly a little clammy - making me wonder if he’s nervous too?
“Hi, Ruby Slippers. It’s nice to meet you too.” I smile and sit down, my heart in my throat. “I hope you weren't waiting for a long time. There was a car accident, I was stuck in traffic.” the words rush out of my mouth in a jumble.
Stanley smiles back, “I arrived early”, then he looks down at his watch, “you're just in time.”
The waitress approaches, handing us menus and breaking the tension. Then leaves again, allowing us a moment to collect ourselves. I stare at the menu flipping it open and glancing at the words inside, nothing is legible in my current state. I’ve lost my ability to read.
I flip over to the back cover and decipher the word breakfast, then flip back to the inside. My heart starts to race again.
What am I going to eat? I don't want Stanley to see me chewing like a cow or what if I end up with food on my face or in my teeth? So I can’t eat anything messy, no sauces - a burger is definitely out. I’ll have to open my mouth too wide. How about soup? But what if I make a slurping sound?
The waitress returns asking if we’re ready to order - Crap. what am I going to say? I’ll pass. I had a late breakfast and I’m not hungry? No, I'll sound like an idiot. Why would I have a late breakfast when we had a lunch date?
My heartbeat is now pounding in my throat. “Ruby, do you know what you want?” Stanley interrupts my thoughts.
“Huh?” I look up. “Um, what do you recommend?” I look pleadingly at the waitress for help.
“Today's specials are on the board on the wall” she points to the wall on our left disinterested. I glance up at a huge blackboard covered in a dissertation. Are you kidding me?
“Um, you go ahead. I’m still thinking” I finally mumble to Stanley while still transfixed on the menu.
“Okay, I'll have a turkey club sandwich with fries and an iced tea.”
“I'll have the same thing” I say in a rush as soon as Stanley’s done speaking. The waitress scribbles on her pad then walks away.
Okay crisis temporarily averted, but now what? I gulp, swallowing the saliva pooling in my mouth, almost choking at the attempt. Then look around the restaurant praying at any minute the floor might swallow me up.
I have no idea what to do or say next. Think of something to say to Ruby. You rehearsed this.
“So, my mother said you're a gardener. That sounds interesting. What do you garden?” Stanley asks, breaking the awkward silence.
A gardener? Boy, my mother really laid it on thick. "Um, a couple of vegetables. I just started the garden a few months ago. It's not going very well. The green beans look okay, but the carrots are, um, yeah..."
Boy, do I sound boring. I'm talking about carrots and green beans. I look up at Stanley expecting him to be asleep and he smiles sweetly back at me.
"My mother said you're an accountant?" My words spill out with force using up all my air. I take a deep breath in and exhale slowly trying to gain control.
The next fifteen minutes are filled with Stanley telling me about his company and his job, until our food arrives - thank god.
The food actually ends up the perfect distraction - you can’t talk if your mouth is full of food and tea.
On the fly, I come up with a clever eating strategy to ensure I’m not caught with food on my face or looking like a farm animal chewing hay.
I take a small bite of food, let the food melt in my mouth as much as possible, add the least amount of chewing that I’m humanly capable of, swallow hard washing the food down with a drink of tea, then finish with a wipe of my mouth and lower face with my napkin three or four times.
I’m still only able to finish half of my sandwich. My stomach seems to be on lockdown and refuses any input.
Soon the waitress shows up to clear our plates, leaving me feeling both relieved and a bit sad that it appears our date is coming to an end - already. Just when I was starting to feel a bit more comfortable.
Stanley asks for the check and before I can register what comes next we’re getting up to leave.
Now what? My heart begins to pick up its pace again - what if he tries to kiss me once we're outside? I have no idea how to kiss. I didn’t practice kissing - crap.
What if my breath smells like turkey? Can I strategically pop a mint into my mouth as we walk to the front of the restaurant without him noticing?
I hurry ahead toward the restaurant door hoping to create enough space between us to go for the mint. Unfortunately, his footsteps are hot on my trail - so the mint is a no go.
Stanley steps in front of me and reaches for the door as it swings shut from the last person’s exit. “Whoops," he says as he catches the door and smiles down at me. Then he ushers me outside with his hand on my shoulder.
That was chivalrous. He’s clearly and old fashioned gentleman. Kind of like Mr. Darcy. A warm feeling starts to grow inside me at the thought of my very own Mr. Darcy.
"So, it was nice to meet you Ruby. I enjoyed our lunch,” Stanley says once we're outside, “Good luck with your garden. I hope your carrots do better." He stares at me waiting for my response.
"Um, thank you for lunch. It was nice meeting you too." I reply praying my breath smells okay.
"Well, have a nice day," Stanley responds, then turns and heads down the sidewalk away from me.
I stand there dumbfounded watching him disappear around the corner.
What the? Um, okay, I guess the date’s over? Looks like I didn’t have to worry about my breath after all.
I stood outside the restaurant for a few more minutes staring at the corner where I last saw Stanley, thinking maybe he’s returning, maybe he just had to go get something from his car real quick.
Then, when it’s clear he’s not coming back and I’m starting to look a bit odd just standing there staring into space, I head to my car.
Okay, were all the movies wrong? Because I’ve not seen a date end like this in anything I’ve watched on tv. And if this wasn’t normal, what did I do to make Stanley sprint away like that?
Whatever the answer, it didn’t matter at the moment. There was an overriding issue looming on the horizon in the form of my mother. She was either going to skewer me when I got home or celebrate me based on how the report of my date went from her friend Florence. And if Stanley’s mom tells my mother how and why he sprinted away from me like that - I’m a dead woman walking.
At the thought of heading home to a likely abysmal fate, I shuffle to my car at a slow pace, then take the long way home - where’s a car accident to back up traffic when you need it?
This morning I thought my date was going to be the hardest part of my day and now it's nothing compared to what’s waiting for me at home.
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