Chapter 12 #2
“He brought me chocolates,” Annie said, showing me a small blue box with a white ribbon. “Because I don’t get to go and apparently he has a lot of yummy things in the car.”
“I’m taking you on a picnic,” Dorian said. “If that’s okay?”
“It sounds perfect,” I said. “The weather’s just right.”
“That’s what I figured too,” Dorian said.
“All right, off you go,” Annie said, shooing us toward the door. “Or you’ll miss the sunset.”
I gave Annie the flowers, asking her to put them in a vase for me.
“I’m on it,” Annie said.
“What are you doing this fine evening?” Dorian asked Annie.
“Grace and Mia are coming over,” Annie said. “We’re going to watch a movie. Lila’s bringing lasagna. I’ll share my chocolates with them, even though I don’t want to.”
“There’s always more chocolate in the world,” Dorian said. “And it’s more fun to share with friends than eat it alone.”
Annie scrunched up her face. “Is that true?”
I rolled my eyes. “Have a nice evening, honey. Text me if you need anything.”
“Don’t worry, Lila and Gillian said I can call them if anything comes up, so you can just enjoy yourself.”
“I feel a conspiracy,” I said, chuckling as I tucked my sweater under my arm.
We headed out to Dorian’s dark green SUV.
The inside smelled of new leather and was neat and tidy.
No missing Cheerios in this car like the one from my past. When Annie was small, I couldn’t keep the car clean.
Now, she was nearly grown and my car was without hidden food items. I’d not thought I’d miss those days as much as I did now.
Time was slipping away, day by day. Soon Annie would be on to her own life, and where did that leave me?
Which is why you’re on a date, I reminded myself. You’re trying.
“Where are we going on this picnic?” I asked, as he pulled out of the drive.
“There’s a stretch of beach past the lighthouse. Less tourists at this hour.”
I knew the spot. Quiet, slightly hidden. One locals kept to themselves.
“My mom and I used to spend summer afternoons there,” Dorian said. “It was her favorite.”
“What was it like to grow up here back then?” I asked.
“Not much different than now, although none of us were glued to our devices in those days. I hate to say it, because it makes me sound like a grouchy old man, but kids used to spend more time outdoors than they do now.”
“Preaching to the choir,” I said.
“Annie’s not like that, though. She’s smart and curious. And absolutely killing it at the shop.”
“She always loved to read, so it doesn’t really surprise me. Although, it’s odd to think of my baby girl with an actual job. Time’s gone too fast.”
He turned toward the beach. We traveled down the two lane road until we reached a small gravel pull-off above the water.
I got out of the car, stretching, taking in the familiar scents of pine, salt and kelp, and maybe eucalyptus while he popped open the back of the car.
I turned to see him pulling a large wicker basket out of the trunk.
We carried everything down the wooden steps to the sand. He found a spot above the tide line, sheltered by a curve in the dunes, and shook out a thick cotton blanket.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Dorian said, as he opened the basket.
I watched with increasing delight as he produced: a wooden board already arranged with cheeses, salami and crackers and a small bunch of grapes; two proper wine glasses wrapped in cloth napkins; a bottle of bold red that I happened to know was extremely good; a container of pasta salad with roasted vegetables that smelled of good olive oil and fresh herbs; and, at the very bottom, a small paper bag that held a half dozen dark chocolate salted caramels.
I stared at the caramels for a moment. “These are my favorite,” I said. “And I love a bold red wine.”
“Yeah, I remembered.”
“How? I’ve never told you either of those things.”
He looked like he might deflect but seemed to change his mind. “Annie showed me your profile.”
“But it’s not up anywhere.”
He popped the cork out of the wine. “She logged in so I could see it.”
I stared at him. “But why?”
“She suggested I take a look. I’m not sure why.”
I did. She was a meddler. “And you remembered all the things I like.”
He tapped his temple. “Remember what I told you about my memory?”
“Yeah, right.” I sat with that as he poured us each a glass of wine.
“Are you angry?”
“Not angry exactly. But it hardly seems fair that you’ve seen mine but I haven’t seen yours. How am I supposed to compete?”
He chuckled. “It’s not a competition. I’ll show you mine, if you want?”
“I might like that, yes.” I shrugged like it was no big deal when actually I really wanted to see what he’d written about himself.
“Let’s eat a little something first and then I’ll pull it up on my phone,” Dorian said.
I took a long sip of wine and looked out at the water turning deep blue at the horizon, catching the last light. Gulls circled above us, waiting for a dropped morsel. We ate slowly, nibbling bits of this and that.
“This was a good idea,” I said. “Thank you for going to all the trouble.”
“It’s my pleasure. You deserve to be pampered a bit from time to time.”
“How do you know what I deserve?” I asked, lightly.
“Are you hiding something from me that would make that statement untrue?” Dorian asked, in a teasing tone. “Dead bodies in that garden of yours? An underground business in forged art? Membership in a secret cult?”
“No dead bodies that I know of, but I can’t speak for the previous owners. I’m not clever enough to run a forged art business. And heck no on the cult. I can’t even join a local book club, let alone a cult.”
“Secret second family?”
I laughed. “No, just my Annie.”
“Then I think we’re good.” He sat back against the log, stretching his legs out long on the blanket.
“Your standards might need to be a little higher,” I said. “And there are less obvious egregious acts that I might be guilty of.”
“Such as?”
“Letting my husband die on my watch?” I tried to keep the same lilting tone but instead it came out raw and real.
He moved slightly to place his hand over mine, just briefly but it was nice.
“His death wasn’t your fault. However, I’ve learned by going to the support group for the last couple years that you’re not the only one who feels responsible.
I do too. But it’s not true. Your husband was sick.
Nothing you did or didn’t do would have changed that. ”
I kicked off my sandals to stick my feet in the sand. “I know that intellectually.”
“But it doesn’t feel that way. All those iterations of what you could have done to save him, right?”
“That’s right. It’s worse at night. When I’m trying to sleep.”
“God, yes, that’s the worst of all.”
We were quiet for a moment, the waves crashing to shore lulling me into a semi-trance.
“How come you’ve never been married,” I asked.
“My career mostly. It’s hard for spouses. The deployments. The moving around all the time. I always thought I’d find someone eventually, but so far it hasn’t happened. That’s something I regret when it comes to my mom. She wanted grandchildren very badly.”
“What about you? Do you want a baby?”
He took a second to answer. “I’ve not thought much about it.”
“Really? Does that mean you don’t want one?”
“No, not that. It’s just I don’t think about the future very much. I’m more of a be-in-the-moment kind of guy.”
I digested that, digging my feet deeper into the cold sand.
“Sand in your toes,” he said. “One of your favorite things.”
“That’s right. Which reminds me. Show me your profile. Please.”
He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times before handing it to me.