Auburn

I’ve been on my own for almost a year now.  It’s been a mostly pathetic time, me sitting home drowning my sorrows in ice cream, holding down the couch in my flannel pajamas in case it decided to up and run away.  What I learned is that I’m just not meant for solitude.  Old-fashioned maybe, but I grew wanting to be a wife and mother, somebody’s helpmeet.  By myself, I’m not quite sure what to do. 

Delilah, she means well.  She knows I’ve been lonely since David left.  Only recently have I been brave enough to dip my pinky toe in the dating pool.  But with two disastrous online dates behind me, I realize that the Internet wasn’t for me. 

So she set me up on a blind date.  I’d been excited when she described him; I’d be lying if I said otherwise.  He worked with our cousin Pedro, who was a bang-up kind of guy, and came well recommended.  Alexander Matchinson.  A nice man, which after the ups and downs of David’s temper, was exactly what I needed. 

She got me his number.  Alexander and I talked on the phone for about a week before deciding to meet.  So far, we haven’t run out of things to say.  So feeling optimistic, I didn’t even question Delilah’s insistence that we shouldn’t exchange photographs until the day of.  I’m not shallow, at least I thought not.  If he was as nice as he sounded, a paunch or some grey hairs weren’t going to bother me any.  I’m thirty-five and well aware that my best years are behind me.

Still, in preparation I bought new clothes, laid off the extra whip-cream frappuccinos and got my hair and nails done.  I was thrumming with the kind of happiness only the thought of a man can bring.  Too good to be true, the lot of it; I ignored that feeling. 

Tonight instead of our weekly powwow we were getting me ready.  Something was off.  Her nervous sighs, the way she fluttered about, all of a sudden I smelled a rat.  Then she gave me the picture.

“Now don’t be so quick to judge,” she says, pursing her lips in that way she does when she’s been caught out. 

“Delilah Beatrice, he’s a redhead.”  If glares could kill I’d be an ash pile.  “Don’t give me that look, I won’t stand for it!”  He’s a beautiful man, for sure, but this was not a slight orange tint.  It was a full on head of leprechaun red hair. 

“It’s auburn,” she says, calm as you please except for the murderous stare.  Like I don’t have two eyes in my head or she thought I was color-blind.  I know red when I see it.  And I’m looking at it in this picture.  A redhead!  I should have expected something like this.  “And he’s a good-looking man, or haven’t you noticed?  What does it matter?” 

“He’s a redhead Delilah, and no amount of your nonsense can change that.  For god’s sake, what if we had boys?”  I’m so furious I’m practically shouting. 

“If he were a woman it wouldn’t even be an issue,” she says, hands on her hips as she walks away.  Turning back for one last parting shot from the doorway, she practically snarls at me.  “What’s good for the gander is good for the goose.  Shame on you!  He’s a damn nice man, and if you stand him up I will never forgive you.”  With that, she slams the bedroom door and goes to pout in the living room.  Fighting mad I’ve made her but I can’t back down.  It was a mistake to agree to being set up.  I wouldn’t compound it.

“I’m not going.  Call him and tell him I have Ebola.  Or an STD,” I shout at her.  But I know I’m on my own. 

I flop back onto the bed, faced with a choice.  All my life, I’ve dealt with this flaming mop of curls and the taunts that go with it.  I wanted a dark-haired, dark-eyed man to save my future children from the same.  Instead I got David.  So is that really enough to keep me from giving this man a fair chance?  I have such high hopes.  And we could always adopt.

Having come to that conclusion I realize if I don’t hurry, I’m going to be late.  I hate tardiness more than almost anything else in the world.  Some first impression I’ll make!  “Delilah!  Delilah, get in here!”  She’s still ignoring me.  I hurt her feelings, I know it, and now I have to grovel.  So I open the one-handed, trying to shimmy myself into the little black dress and yell, “Damn it, sis, I need your help getting ready.  I can’t zip this dress up by myself.

She comes flying in the room so fast she knocks me over.  We land in a tangle of limbs on the floor.  “Yes!  I knew you’d see reason.  Get up woman, we don’t have all day,” she squeals, the excitement rolling off of her in waves.  You’d think she was the one going on the date.  “I can have you ready in ten minutes.”  And she was as good as her word.  While I’m no great beauty, I know I looked nicer than I have in months.  “Don’t screw this up Salome or I will beat you with an oar.” 

“Scram, he’ll be here soon.  I don’t want him getting any ideas,” I reply flippantly.  I’m feeling good.  When I look over at her it’s a different story.  “Are those, are those tears in your eyes, Delilah?  Whatever for?”

“No.  I never cry.”  That makes me laugh.  All she did growing up was cry.  “Seriously, I’m just happy.  I know you don’t like to hear it, but David wasn’t good for you.  You haven’t sparkled like this in years.  I missed my sister, that’s all,” she sobs, turning her head away.  I’m not sure what to do so I hug her hard, careful not to muss my makeup. 

“I love you too rugrat.  But you need to leave.  He’s going to be here in five, and two weeping women are going to scare him.”  She gives me a watery smile, the golden features I had spent a lifetime jealous of looking the worse for wear. 

“Alright, alright.  I can take a hint.  I love you, have fun, stay safe, remember not to put out until the third date – ” 

I throw a pillow at her head and she leaves laughing.  With nothing to do, I sit on the edge of the bed and wait nervously for the doorbell to ring. 

First thing I thing I notice is that in person, the red really does look more like auburn.  Not that I would ever give her the satisfaction of saying so.  Alexander is much better looking than I’d expected.  My dress, which I snagged on sale at Macy’s, suddenly feels inadequate.  As soon as I opened the door I know.  Ginger or no, I want this man to like me.  It’s junior high all over again.  At least this time I don’t have braces.

“You are even prettier in person,” he says, handing me a bouquet of Calla lilies.  He’d done his research.  “Should I come in, or do you want to go straight to dinner?  It’s nothing fancy, I should warn you.”  Ha!  That coming from the man dressed in a suit.  “It’s a BYO Italian restaurant my friend’s parents own.  The food is amazing though.”

When he stares at me expectantly I realize I haven’t spoken a word since he got here.  I’ve been caught daydreaming.  “Please, come in.  I’m sorry, I forgot my manners for a second.”

“I hope it’s because you liked what you saw.”  It takes me a second to figure out what he means.  Oh the nerve!  The embarrassment has me flushing as red as my hair.  He laughs, not in a mean way, and that quickly I’m eager to get this show on the road.

“On second thought, I’m starving.  Let me put these in water and we’ll go,” I say.  Then I’m putzing around the kitchen, looking for that stupid vase which is not where it’s supposed to be, muttering under my breath like a crazy person.  I’m so wrapped up in the search I jump when I feel him come up behind me.

He grabs my wrist.  “Salome?”

“Yes?”

“Relax.  We’re getting on just fine.  Let’s bring the flowers with us and we’ll get a vase on the way.  After all, I’m starving too,” he says, giving me a wink.  My heart skips like five beats.  I’m feeling dizzy and speechless.  All from one wink.  Oh boy I’m in trouble.  “OK?”

I nod and he gently drags me out of the apartment towards his car. 

Oh she hit the nail on the head with this one, Delilah did.  Not that I’d ever tell her.  But she'll figure out when I invite her to the wedding.