I leave the radio turned off as I drive home from my date so I can contemplate my current predicament and possibly figure out a way to get ahead of my mother’s reaction.
Clearly, my ideas surrounding dating were turned upside down today.
I mean Stanley was nice, but I just thought there would be more to the date than sitting across from each other, eating food, in silence.
And after the date, I somehow imagined we would leave the cafe together, decide to go for a walk, maybe window shop for a while, and then at the right moment he would grab my hand and I would feel all tingly inside, and…I would know he was the one.
This moment would turn my mother’s chance meeting with Stanley’s mother at the Yarn Barn into fate.
But, now, we no longer would be raising our three beautiful children (Heidi, Henry and Harry), I like H names, in our pale yellow house with the tulips out front.
I might have spent a wee bit of time imagining my future over the last few days. I even saw a big smile on my mother’s face, bigger than ever before, over the excitement of being a grandmother. She was finally proud of me.
Unfortunately, today I didn’t even make it out of the starting gate with Stanley, let alone to Henry’s baptism (Evey was the godmother). And, in the few minutes I had to run the date around in my head, I’d come to only one conclusion — he didn’t like me.
It was the only explanation for why he left so abruptly after our lunch. He was attentive and friendly during our date. Well, maybe that’s overstating a bit. I mean he was a little stoic, but who am I to comment on personalities? I’m not the most flowery and light-hearted person, as my mother often reminds me.
So he may not have been leaning in excitedly at my tales of gardening, but it’s not like he was rude or anything.
Maybe his mother made him go on the date like my mother made me and he was forced to spend his Saturday at lunch with me against his will?
My heart dropped at the thought. If so, then our date was doomed from the outset.
Oh well, it wasn’t like it was love at first sight. He wasn’t bad looking, a little neat, especially the way he kept rearranging his food, napkin, fork, and a glass of iced tea. It was like watching a solo chess match.
He even rearranged the turkey and lettuce inside his sandwich, straightening it out so it didn’t stick out of the sides of the bread.
Stanley did seem smart, though, he talked about his job at Colico in the accounting department, how he had been there for ten years. Okay maybe he was a bit boring, as he droned on about checks and balances, but maybe all guys are that way.
Even the way my mother talked about my dad sometimes led me to believe he wasn’t always the perfect partner. Every once in a while she would make a comment like, men don’t care about a woman's opinion, we serve one purpose, we’re not their equal.
Then she would catch herself and include the disclaimer, “Well, except for your father, he treated me like a queen”.
The messages about my father were so mixed it was hard to get a clear idea of anything. And my recollection of him was faint at best. I remember standing behind him once peeking out from between his legs at a male friend who came to the door. I must have been around four years old.
I also remember his hands and how big they were and how safe I felt when I was holding one. But, that’s pretty much the extent of my memories. Specifically, since he died when I was around four years old.
The story of how it happened is etched in my mind, as though I were there. It should be. Since it was my fault.
I was sick in bed and the doctor called in a prescription for me to our local drug store. My dad ran out in a storm to pick up and never came back. He was killed in a car accident on the way back from the store..
As my mother puts it, specifically on the anniversary of his death, his birthday, Christmas, their wedding anniversary, and, basically every holiday, or moment when he came to mind… he would be here with us now if it hadn’t been for me getting sick.
Just thinking about it caused some of my turkey sandwich to rise up in my throat.
My life was marked by that night, or possibly even cursed — I considered, on tougher days.
A possibility my mother would easily second because, as she reminded me often, her life has been a tragedy every day since. She had to raise me alone, tight on money, no help from anyone. All of which was hard enough, without adding the fact that I was an especially unruly and thankless child.
Well, based on how today went, maybe I am cursed, maybe this is karma or some kind of retribution for causing my mother such sorrow. I’m cursed to live my life alone too.
I really thought this date with Stanley might be the beginning of a new chapter for me. Like I had served my penance and was finally being allowed some good in my life.
Or maybe not.
Regardless, I was turning onto my street and didn’t have time to ponder the past any further. I needed to decide how to handle my mother’s barrage of questions when I got home.
By the time I pulled into the driveway minutes later, I resolved myself not to let my mind get carried away with potentially disastrous outcomes.
It was still possible Stanley had somewhere to go and our date ended in a perfectly normal way. I might be reading the whole thing wrong.
I stop the car and pause to take a deep breath before turning off the ignition. Then, I open the door glancing toward the house as I exit the car.
My mother is standing on the porch with a scowl on her face. Crap! My mind goes blank as my heart begins to race.
Before I can think she’s made it across the lawn and is standing in front of me..
“So, you just had to ruin things didn’t you Ruby?”
“Florence called me and said Stanley was quite upset.”
“Wait, What?” I respond confused, not expecting that to come out of her mouth.
“Yes, Ruby, of course, he’s upset. What did you expect after telling him you didn’t want to see him again? I mean really Ruby, who do you think you are? You’re in no position to be picky like that”.
My mind goes blank as I sort through and try to make sense of the words she’s just uttered.
“It’s all about you, isn’t it? Just as it's always been” mother continues, “Well, what about me? When is it my turn?
My mother’s voice drones on but all I hear is blah, blah blah, blah, my brain still stuck on, I told him I didn’t want to see HIM anymore?
When did I say that? My mind soars over our date and the limited conversation trying to figure out where I might have accidentally slipped that in.
“I didn’t say that mother. I didn’t tell him I didn’t want to see him again.” I respond in defense.
“Well, he clearly got that impression from you however it came across.” mother charges back, “and now your best prospect for a future is gone. Thank you once again, Ruby, for ruining any chance I have at a life.” she turns and storms off into the house.
I stand frozen to the spot contemplating what just happened. I don’t want to see him? Where the heck did he get that idea?
The neighbor's dog barks, drawing me from my thoughts and I stumble forward, up the driveway toward the back door terrified of what waits for me inside.
Stepping through the kitchen door I quickly head through the living room, eyes down, hoping for a fast arrival to my bedroom without running into her. Then I hear my mother crying loudly upstairs. My shoulders slump forward and I drop my purse and keys on the entryway table, then slowly head up the stairs to my bedroom and softly pull the door shut.
I sit on my bed and stare at the painted violet flowers dancing across my baseboard as tears begin to well in my eyes. Then grab my pillow and wrap it around the back of my head in an attempt to cover my ears and drown out my mother’s sobs.
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