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The Fern
Part Two
I was absolutely thrilled with the little restaurant we went to. The
service was deliberately protracted and the seating very intimate, all
quite plainly designed for those on dates! It was such a find, so well
hidden in a far flung part of town, I couldn’t help but be curious as
to how he found it. Not that it mattered, we had a superb evening.
Everything just seemed to work right. Nice background music, modern but
gentle. A natural flow to our conversation. Several romantic kisses. So
it just seemed appropriate to invite him in when he took me home. I
just didn’t want it to end.
But my sister was still there, and as much as I loved her, I could have
wished her further. She obviously liked him, and wanted to see him
again. I couldn’t blame her.
“Let’s go in anyway,” I said “we’ll have some coffee. She’ll be leaving soon.”
But she didn’t. Maggie never ceased to amaze me, she was so brazen. She
wasn’t exactly flirting with him, but she was enjoying my date too much
for my liking really. I don’t think he minded the attention, and in any
case, he was polite enough not to show how he felt about it either way,
and he never gave me any reason to be concerned, so I let her quiz him.
I found out more about him in one night, her way, than I would have
done in weeks, maybe months, my way. My way was to wait, but it wasn’t
because I wanted to, and it wasn’t lack of curiosity. I wanted to know
all there was to know about him, I just wasn’t the type to ask. I don’t
know why, but I lived in constant fear of people thinking “Hey, she’s
weird”. And of course, the net result of all this was that nine times
out of ten, I’d be so busy trying not to be weird that I’d say something
utterly, totally STUPID. And just when I was getting past that I found
a new reason not to ask.
So, I was actually quite delighted when she took control of the
discussion and even asked him about his glasses. I just sat back and
took in the conversation. Yum! First she complimented him on the
style.
“Oh, thanks.....these are brand new. I’d worn contacts solely for so long that the prescription on my old glasses was way out.”
Yes, I suspected that. He’d left work early for a reason. I wondered
how much time it had taken him to choose them, with a date in mind,
wanting to impress me. Ha, what a delicious thought!
Then she asked him his history. Oh Maggie! So......I learned that he
first started wearing glasses in his final year at High School, and
went through hell and back with that. It broke my heart to hear that
his girlfriend at the time decided he was no longer up to her
standards, and after they’d been seeing each other for almost a year
too. The hardest part for him was that he’d realized only too well that
he needed glasses, several years before that in fact, but being one of
the smarter students he’d put it off to avoid the geek label. By the
time he had to give in and get them, because it was really affecting
his grades, he went straight into full-time wear. That’s a big deal for
a 17-year-old guy. How I wished I’d known him then. I’d have made him
feel good about it. I wouldn’t have ditched him! I’d have encouraged
him to go sooner maybe....ah, who am I kidding? I was as gutless then
as now. No....more so. I doubt I’d have even had the bravado to talk to
him. But I’d have worshipped him. I know I would have.
He also told the full story of the dreaded Ex, Karen, who had managed
within 3 weeks to convince him to wear contacts, which he was scared
of, which had turned out to be even worse than he expected, which he
had so much trouble with, forcing himself to tolerate daily discomfort,
and then left him anyway, after they’d lived together for seven years.
This....lady...and I am using the term loosely, had referred to his
glasses as stupid. Maggie called her a bitch and he said nothing but
shifted uncomfortably - there was obviously a deep hurt there. I also
had the feeling he’d had enough talking about himself in such a
revealing way, and he forcefully changed the subject. Maggie didn’t
push it, and I was eternally grateful to her.
Finally, she took a hint and said her goodbyes. Ten stayed only briefly
after that, just as I was seriously thinking of inviting him to stay,
but I thought at the time that it was more fatigue than chivalry that
made him decide to go. He made very certain that I understood his
feelings by asking to meet again the very next day, and said he’d pick
me up before lunch. He seemed like there was something else he wanted
to say, but was holding back. Gee, I hoped I wasn’t rubbing off on him.
“There’s something I want to show you Teresa”
“Cool”
“Well, no, well......tomorrow. I’ll see you tomorrow”
He kissed me. I thought he was going to change his mind about going at that point but he said.....
“Tomorrow,” again. And left.
I took stock of my evening. I’d spent the whole time just drinking in
his face, his eyes, and his glasses. It was all just so wonderful,
and.....woah!..... it was going to go on like this, can a person take
in so much bliss? Yes. I just wanted to gaze at him forever. In a
moment of inspiration I planned to grab a photo of him as he arrived
the next morning.
However Saturday morning was not conducive to photography as it was
pouring with rain. So I shelved that idea, and searched for my umbrella
instead. I couldn’t find it anywhere, had I left it somewhere? I didn’t
like the idea of looking like a drowned rat in the short walk out my
door, down the steps, and to his car, but I needn’t have worried. Being
the perfect gentleman he was, when he arrived he brought a huge
umbrella out of the car with him, and huddled me under it. I never got
so much as a drip on me. He of course did get a bit wet, and he had a
few drops of water on his glasses - did this mean I’d get to clean them
for him, like I’d jealously watched Maggie do to her beaus? Oh
please..............No, he didn’t even take them off for a moment.
Dammit!
So, we drove right out of town, to a small zoo I’d never even heard of.
We had lunch first, then he took me into the tropical house. What a
beautiful building, but the architecture was second to the murals all
around the walls. Ten’s work. I saw his name on the plaque. I could
tell he was obviously very proud of it, by his smile, but he was being
very modest not pointing it out, and I was just left speechless by his
skill. I was also very confused by this need to bring me here - to show
me his talent, while at the same time obviously just.....hoping.......
I’d notice This must have been what he wanted to show me, why he
brought me here, wasn’t it? He was behaving like it was an
afterthought. There was something quite complex about his
personality, but I absolutely loved it. Like.....he was so
knowledgeable about so many different things, yet I never felt he was
showing off. He just seemed enthused, whatever he was talking about.
And he treated me like royalty, holding doors open, always there with
the umbrella from building to building, and apologizing for the weather
as if it was his fault. Was this man as perfect as he seemed, or was I
just in love. Maybe both.
I decided to invite him back again, and offered to cook him dinner. He
leapt at the chance, and said he hadn’t had a good home-cooked meal in
ages. I hoped my culinary prowess would live up to his expectations,
and then suddenly realized again that he had a French name. So I cooked
Italian.
He hovered the whole time I was in the kitchen, interested in
everything I did, but never offering advice. Either he really couldn’t
cook, or he was being polite. But he was fun, so much fun, and I think
that was what endeared him to me most. His zest for life was almost
childlike. I could feel an awesome bond growing between us, and it
seemed like it was going to be plain sailing. I fantasized a
respectable length of time getting to know each other and then
marriage. Like a romantic novel. I had him signed, sealed and delivered
as mine. Or so I thought.
He loved my cooking. I found a decent bottle of wine (not Maggie’s
undrinkable home-made stuff that I now had a collection of) and even
some ice cream for dessert. We talked, we opined, we laughed. There was
never a pause, never an awkward silence. I felt easy in his company
like I’d known him for years, and it seemed to be mutual. I felt so
comfortable in fact that I suggested just sitting watching a video
together. It seemed cozy and romantic, and he loved the idea. It was
the first of many evenings spent that way.
The only problem was, after we’d had a wonderful, fun cozy evening he
always went home. And we never went anywhere else much, other than the
cute restaurant he first took me to. Without wanting to complain - I
did enjoy the time we spent together - I started to wonder if I’d made
him too comfortable too soon. It wasn’t so much that it was boring, no,
it wasn’t. I could never be bored with his company. But I enjoyed going
out, I enjoyed variety, and I was rather hoping to
enjoy.........something more intimate.
Although he always wore his glasses when we got together privately, he
still wore his contacts to work, despite frequently being in obvious
discomfort. He didn’t explain this, and right now I didn’t have the
nerve to ask. You see, the last thing I wanted to be was the pushy nag
he’d wasted so many years of his life with. I was just grateful to see
him in glasses of an evening, two or three nights a week. OK, it wasn’t
enough to satisfy me, but...well, it was good. What I really wanted to
see now was him in no glasses - and no clothes. I wanted that man, but
he never made any advances that I could work on. Wonderful kisses, yes.
Wonderful hugs. Never anything more. It was really quite frustrating,
and rather confusing. It certainly wasn’t anything...lacking....in him.
If our kisses started to heat up, he was noticeably aroused, but he
always pulled back, and would often leave. Yes, leave me begging for
more, good strategy, but just how long was I going to have to put up
with this.
Why was I such a coward when I felt so close to him?
I took the opportunity to take Steph for lunch and confide in her. It was difficult, but she made it easier for me.
“So, how are things going between you two? Everyone’s talking about you
seeing each other after work” I guessed that, but nothing had been
said. We tried to be discreet, tried to be professional about it.
“He’s lovely Steph,” I told her “actually he’s almost perfect. I think this is The One.”
“Good for you! I have to admit I’m jealous. He has such beautiful dark eyes”.
Ah well, here was my chance to expand....a bit.
“Yes, and the best part is...when I’m with him outside work he wears glasses.”
“That’s the best part?”
Obviously Steph didn’t share my obsession, but I’d begun now.
“Yes, I think he looks REALLY hot in them. Really...... I wish he’d
wear them to work....but then maybe I wouldn’t be able to concentrate”
I giggled nervously.
“Weird,” said Steph “You’d think it’d be the other way around.”
Yes, you would, wouldn’t you. It made no sense at all really. But I let
that thought go, and instead confided in her that I’d been unable to
get him into the bedroom - although, I confessed I hadn’t really tried
very hard.
“I don’t want to put him off Steph, he’s so.........polite, you know?”
“Polite or not, this is the 21st century, and if, as you say, he’s been in a long-term relationship before, he’s no monk!”
“I know, I know...but...I don’t know what to do Steph, I mean, he is
THE ONE, I know he is, and I’m scared of doing anything
wrong.........nuts huh?”
“Oh you’re just in love. “
“Yes, yes, that I am. Oh Steph, he’s so......”
“Perfect?”
“Yes.”
Well almost. If only I could figure out what was stopping him from letting himself go.
Maybe he was waiting for me to make the first move, so I didn’t feel he
was pressuring me? Maybe he’d got so used to The Control Freak, now he
was nervous? I made arrangements for him to come over the next
evening, and I was planning on.......well.......seducing him. Or at
least trying to.
So, the familiar routine. I cooked him something nice, we retired to
the sofa, he brought a movie to watch, we hugged while we watched it. I
waited until it was finished, then I pounced. Well, actually I very
casually turned to him and started unbuttoning his shirt. He didn’t put
up a fight. So I kissed him, quite passionately, and made sure he
couldn’t escape. I made my intentions quite plain, and to my utter
pleasure - and surprise - he went along with it quite eagerly. Great!
We gradually helped each other remove our clothing, and then I reached
to take his glasses off, and he stopped me.
"No.....don’t....please......don’t” he said, looking uncomfortable. I
must have looked shocked, and he just shook his head at me gently but
emphatically, then kissed me, and pulled me right onto him.
He was the most exquisite lover. Passionate yet gentle, he aimed to
please. He seemed as relieved....grateful even, as I did, that we had
broken that barrier down, but then, after the glow of the moment, after
we’d hugged and relaxed and pulled a throw over to keep snug, a serious
look came over him.
“I love you Teresa, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
I wanted to respond quickly, to tell him that was exactly how I felt, but he had something else to say.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I didn’t want to take my glasses off.”
“You wanted to see what you were doing?”
He laughed, kindly “I can see enough for that. No.....I’ll try to
explain without using technical jargon.......it’s just that my glasses
- or contacts - they don’t just help me see, they also make my eyes
look, well, normal......straight......without them my eyes
look.........different, OK? I guess I’m really self-conscious about it.
I’ve had good reason to be, I hope you
understand........So..........I’ve been trying to find the right moment
to tell you....to show you..........”
Very slowly he took off his glasses and I saw what he meant. Although I
knew he was looking straight at me, it looked like he wasn’t, it was
like he was looking straight through me. I suppose I understood that he
might be bothered by this. I sort of understood that some people,
looking at him, might be rather distracted by it. I even understood, a
bit, that to some women, yes, it might be a put
off......maybe.....What I DIDN’T understand was why I found myself
liking it so much. So very, very much. So much in fact that I said
absolutely nothing, but just kissed him. Then I looked again at his
unusual eyes, with the very long lashes, and somehow found the courage
to ask.....
“Did......she....object to that?”
“Yes, she did. It got worse over time, and.......” he trailed off.
I didn’t need to hear any more anyway. I wanted to tell him my opinion of this shallow woman, but restrained myself.
“And you know,” he continued “realistically sometimes I have to take
them off, you know? So...even after you encouraged me, I’ve been
avoiding wearing them in public. And you know how dusty it gets at
work, and it gets right under my contacts sometimes and drives me
screwy. At least contact-wearers have a little protection, in a way.
But for everyone else it’s just a constant irritation, and I watch
everyone who wears glasses, they take them off to rub their eyes. I
would want to do that too! But I don’t like people to see my
eyes....OK, so you’re thinking how vain is that, right?”
“No, that’s not what I was thinking” but I was surprising myself with
what I was thinking. As much as I much preferred to see him in glasses,
I had found something special. Something taboo. Mine, mine, mine. I got
to see him in glasses, and it was kind of private, something few people
saw really. And then I got to see him natural, which was almost sacred.
I wasn’t going to share that, however briefly, and I told him that I
fully understood. But I wanted to add something, wanted to reassure
him. I wanted to find a really sensible way to explain this, but
instead I said “I want to keep you all to myself”.
His strange, faraway eyes looked confused for a while. And then the penny dropped, and he smiled.
”I don’t think I’ll ever understand women!!” and with that he put his
glasses back on, and his eyes looked straight at me again.
“Ten, do you have anything else you want to tell me, I mean, do you juggle fruit or anything?”
Then he really laughed, he really relaxed. I wished I could be like
Maggie, to say what I wanted to say when I wanted to say it. But at
least when my brain did this to me it entertained him.
“Actually” he said, still laughing, “I can juggle, pass me those oranges”
And he tossed three oranges up in the air and kept them all up there,
in their turn, then did a little bow. So I kissed him again. AND I
kissed his glasses.
Part Three
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