The morning of their first
date was exceptionally warm for that mid-November day. Deborah
stretched in her bed and stared happily up at the ceiling, the rush
of the exhilaration of new love coursing through her veins. She knew
the cautionary warnings of her Christian friends, who would tell her
that because of his spiritual beliefs he was not worthy enough, nay,
capable of a loving relationship. But, the infatuation she felt for
him outweighed any dire warnings from any external source. Her heart
soared with the expectancy of new love and relationship. Years
later, she would look back on this moment with fondness, the moment
before anything else, any trouble seeped in. Her older self would
look back with the realization that moments like those were to be
treasured, that people, regardless of spiritual belief or
orientation, were to be honored and cherished, that every person was
brought into your life specifically for a unique reason and purpose,
that every person could teach you something different than others.
But, at that moment, she was only excited for the day ready to
unfold, she was only contemplating what to wear and how to make
herself look presentable to him, to Matthew, her cute coffee-boy.
In another part of the city,
Matt was waking up, with that excitement and expectancy for the
pretty girl he would soon spend the day. As he gathered up his
morning coffee and cigarette, and made his way to his parents'
backyard (the house where he currently resided), his mind was racing
with what to do to keep her interested, to impress her. He, too, was
busy contemplating what to wear to appear attractive and to keep her
interest. He worried that his small frame was unworthy or
unattractive in her overall eyes, and that maybe, just maybe, she
wasn't all too interested in him for more than a friend. It had been
awhile since he'd been single and in the dating game. After all, he
had only just broken it off with his girlfriend of 6 years.
Finishing his cigarette, he
stumped it out, drained his coffee, and headed into the kitchen, up
the stairs into his bathroom. The steam from the hot shower filled
the bathroom and fogged up the mirror he sleepily stared into while
he undressed. He ran his hand over his body and down over himself
and thought, dreamt of her. The water fell in cascades down his
body while he lathered his hair with shampoo, careful to not let it
slip into his eyes. In the opposite part of the city, Deborah stood
under the hot stream of water, rinsing the shampoo, also careful to
keep it out of her eyes, conditioning her hair, and making the
painstakingly focused attempt to remove hair from her legs and
under-arms.
Finally, dressed, her in
black stretch pants and a black top, with her black wool coat, scarf,
and hat, and him in his warm flannel coat, his orange shirt, and his
nicest pair of pants, they made their way down town towards the
coffee shop. As they stepped out into the world and began their
brisk walk, the warm air brought a cool sweat to their faces and
before they had gotten very far, they each carried their jacket, hat,
scarf in one hand, letting the Fall breeze cool their faces. Before
she rounded the corner to the coffee shop, Deborah pulled out a
compact to examine her make-up, make sure she wasn't glistening with
sweat, and hoping that there wasn't too much of the under-arm stink.
She made the corner and started her descent towards the coffee shop,
and there he was, her coffee-boy, sitting on the small patio table,
across from oh, that scary dark boy, waiting for her. In a sense,
they both waited, she would remember, years from then. Both of them
waiting for her, sitting at the coffee shop, watching as she
approached, an image burned in her memory, a time of innocence, a
stolen season of her life.
Matthew got up and came down
to her. A broad smile stretching further and further across her face
as she approached. She felt a smile break forth across her face in
response as her heart beat loudly (could he hear it?) inside of her.
“All set,” he said when
she had reached him. “Do you need anything? Coffee?”
“Well, I don't have any
cash on me,” she began. He shook his head and said, “I've got
it.”
And, into the coffee shop,
he went and a few minutes later, he emerged with a medium size go-cup
filled with coffee.
“Cream okay, I hope,” he
said, as he handed it to her with a flourish. She nodded and took a
sip, smiling at him over the brim.
“Thank you,” she smiled.
“What do I owe you?”
“On the house,” he
smiled down at her, wanting desperately to taste the coffee on her
lips.
“Well,” she began. “It
pays to know the coffee boy.”
“We prefer barista,”
Matthew informed her.
“Barista, I will remember
that,” she smiled up at him. “But I prefer coffee-boy, rather,
cute-coffee boy. Even more, I prefer, Matthew the cute-coffee-boy.”
Matthew laughed and reached
for her hand, waving at James, who merely looked at them, not really
awake and seemed gloomy as he watched them ascend up the hill.
“Where are we off to?”
Deborah wanted to know, as she took his hand and allowed herself to
be led. Her insides twinged with his touch as they walked hand in
hand. Yippee, she thought and her nether regions felt squishy with
the delight. Her Christian friends would call that lust and would
warn against those feelings, they aren't love they would say, nor
lasting. Actually, it was her ex-boyfriend who would rail on and on
about the dangers of sex outside of marriage, lust, and sin keeping
her away from God. She wasn't sure about that and at that moment she
only had eyes for Matthew.
“Hiking,” he smiled as
he spoke, walking with a cute bounce in each step that Deborah loved
and would remember for years to come. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” Deborah breathed,
beaming up at him. And, deep down, she heard the word “eternally”
as her answer to him and wondered about that response, before
excusing it and shaking it off. How could that be anywhere
connected to a first date?
They made their way through
the park, so wrapped up in each other they ignored the passing,
chatting and idle tourists along the way. Their hands clung harder
to each other and Deborah found the coffee spill slightly on her
hands, burning her.
“Ouch,” she responded
and he looked back at her, noticing, he took the coffee in his other
hand. “Ah, a gentleman!”
He nodded at her, sipped the
coffee, and they kept walking.
Pretty soon, the tourists
chatter melted away as Matthew and Deborah disappeared deeper into
the park. After a steep ascent, he brought her into the rambling
bushes surrounding a secluded stream. Then, he catapulted himself
across the river, bouncing from stone to stone, and landing upon a
larger rock that jutted far out of the water. Deborah followed him,
tentatively taking the same stones he had. He held out his hand and
she climbed atop, sitting next to him. They sat side by side and
perused their surroundings, heard the quiet rush of the water
streaming around and beneath them, the gentle sway of the breeze, the
calling of the birds amongst the trees, and together they breathed
deep.
“I think this is my
favorite place,” he said at last.
“Yeah, thank you for
taking me here, then,” Deborah said as well. He took her hand in
hers and they enjoyed that moment in connection.
“So, what have you got
going on tonight?” Matthew asked at last, breaking the silence and
secretly wanting to know how long he had her.
“Oh, god, I think my
friends want me to go to church with them,” she responded, a little
ashamed.
“Church? You into that?”
Matthew wanted to know.
“I am not sure, they seem
nice, the people who go there, its pretty laid back, I guess, my ex
and I used to go but...”
“But?”
“Well, everyone there is
so focused on one thing, like this one girl is all about getting
married and finding the right guy, and if he's not Christian, then
woah,” Deborah rambled without thinking.
“God, what's wrong with
not being Christian?” Matthew scoffed.
“Yeah, I don't know, but
they think that you can't really have a real loving relationship if
they aren't Christian, so,” Deborah tried to explain.
“Well, what do you think?”
Matthew asked, hopefully.
“Trying to figure that one
out,” was all Deborah would give.
“Well, aren't you allowed
to love who you want to love?” Matthew asked furtively and somewhat
demandingly. “Isn't that what God is all about? Love?
Unconditional love? And, not judging?”
“Yeah,” Deborah sat in
silence for a moment and then cocked her head and looked at him, “You
mean me? I'm allowed to love who I want to love?”
“Well, yeah, but everyone
too,” he said, looking deeply at her.
“I hope you are right,”
was all she could say, looking right back at him and into him. They
sat in silence and took each other in, let the world around them slip
away.
