Turning Thirty-Twelve (4 page)

The phone rang, and I jumped in surprise. Picking up the handset, I was a bit shocked to see “Brennan, Mark” in the caller-ID window.

Mr. Yummy!

I punched the answer button. “Hello?”

“Um, hi. Is this...Jackie?” He sounded incredibly nervous. I think his voice actually cracked like one of my student’s might.

I nodded before I stupidly realized Mr. Yummy couldn’t see me. “Yes, this is Jackie.”

“Hi. This is Mark. Mark Brennan. I’m a friend of Suzanne Roberts. We go to the same church. She thought... She figured that we might... I don’t know. She said we might want to go on a blind date.”

My heart started pounding so hard I could hear the rhythm roaring in my ears. Mr. Yummy was the guy that Suzanne and Abs had been trying to force on me.

God, love them!

I sure did!

Although my head was spinning, I had enough sense remaining to realize that he didn’t recognize my name. Knowing Suzanne and Abs, they had probably just written down my first name and phone number.

“You still there?” Mark asked.

“Sorry. Yeah, I’m still here. I was just thinking that I should probably tell you that I know who you are, and that you might not want to take me out when you find out who I am.”

“Why? Are you a serial killer or something?” He chuckled.

Mr. Yummy has a sense of humor.

“My last name’s Delgado. We met at the OfficeMax. Remember?”

“I thought the name sounded familiar. You’re Carly’s biology teacher, aren’t you?”

I nodded again. Boy, could I be lame sometimes. “Yeah. I understand if you don’t want to go out now.”

“Why?”

“I’m your daughter’s teacher.”

“Is there some rule against parents going out with teachers?” He sounded confused.

“Well, no. But...”

“Look, I wasn’t really thrilled about this whole idea—”

“Fine!” I interrupted. My insecurity was already thrumming through me like the beat of a big bass drum at the notion of a man as gorgeous as Mark Brennan wanting to spend time with me. Now that he knew who I was, he was balking. “Don’t bother.”

“Will you let me finish?” he asked with a note of irritation.

Mr. Yummy has a temper.

“Fine. I’m sorry.”

“What I was saying was that I wasn’t thrilled about the idea until you told me who you are. Now, I’d really like to take you out.”

“Why?”

I let the word slip out before I could censor myself. I had never been very good at using that protective filter most people have between their brains and their mouths. Mine failed me on a regular basis.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“Never mind,” I mumbled.

“I want to go out with you because you seemed nice. Funny. Real.”

“Real?”

“Yeah. You don’t seem to be the type of woman who plays games. Carly likes you too. How about Friday?”

Mark seemed to be gaining some confidence. It dawned on me that he probably hadn’t asked out many women. This was obviously something he wasn’t horribly comfortable doing.

“Friday,” I repeated.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” I echoed in my delirious trance as I nodded my head.

I’m going out with Mr. Yummy!

Oh, my God! I’m going out with Mr. Yummy!

***

Suzanne sat down at the lunch table where Abby, Julie, and I had already set up shop.

The smell of the school cafeteria was usually nauseating, but I was in such a strange frame of mind that I didn’t notice the scent for once. Besides, I never ate anything except salad—for whatever good that was doing me.

“So?” she asked with an anxious note in her voice. “Did he call?”

“Who?” Abby asked. “Do you mean Mike?”

“Mark,” Suzanne corrected.

“Who’s Mark?” Abby asked.

“Mike,” Julie corrected.

I shook my head and laughed. “You guys sound like a really bad Abbott and Costello routine. It’s Mark. And, yes, he called.” I shifted some food around on my plate, savoring their wide-eyed stares. I waited another second or two to raise the tension, then I took mercy on them. “We’re going to have dinner on Friday.”

Abby clapped her hands in that way she always does whenever she’s excited.

“So?” Suzanne asked again.

“So
what?
” I asked.

She let out an exasperated groan. “What did you think of Mark?”

“Mike,” Abby insisted.

“Mark,” Julie corrected.

Abby looked puzzled, but she had a habit of getting that way rapidly and often.

“I think that I already knew the guy.”

Three faces of confusion immediately turned and focused on me.

“I met him at OfficeMax on Teacher Work Day. I have his daughter first period in biology,” I explained, knowing they wouldn’t leave me alone unless I did.

Abby clapped her hands again. “What does he look like? Is he cute? Still have his hair?”

Suzanne took the burden from my shoulders and my mouth. “He’s about as dreamy as anyone I’ve ever met.” She actually sighed as she recollected the guy I was going out with on Friday.

I almost felt...jealous. A weird reaction on my part.

“Nice eyes,” Suzanne continued. “Thick
hair. I’m just sorry we didn’t hook up.”

I wasn’t sorry about it in the least, but I kept that juicy tidbit to myself.

Julie, the voice of reason, chimed in. “Why isn’t he taken? If he’s so wonderful, why’s he on the market?” She shook her head. “There’s got to be something wrong with him.”

“Julie, I’d hate to buy a car with you,” Abby responded. “You think everyone’s got an angle. You could get it for wholesale and you’d question the salesman’s motives.”

“Just askin’,” she said in her own defense as she picked at her salad. “Great guy like that? Still free as a bird? I don’t know...”

They all stared at me as if I had all the answers to the questions of the universe.

I kept my silence for once and shrugged.

“He’s just now starting to date again. He’s a widower,” Suzanne explained. “He lost his wife to breast cancer a while back. Two years ago, I think.”

My heart went out to Mr. Yummy.

After David and I separated, and even more so after the divorce, I used to sit around feeling sorry for myself and wondering if things might’ve been better if David had died rather than left me. I had to admit to harboring a macabre fantasy of his demise when I found out he was screwing around with Ashley and when he filed for divorce.

I dreamt of the respect and reverence I would have received at his funeral. Of course, I would have been twenty pounds thinner, wearing a tailored black Halston dress, and sporting perfect hair and nails. My friends and relatives would have patted my manicured hands in sympathy while David was lying in the coffin and looking pristine. There would have been no answering ridiculous but well-meaning questions about why he’d left. Instead, I would’ve said, “These things happen.” We’d have thrown handfuls of roses and dirt on his grave, and my sons and I would have moved on to face the world with stoic bravery.

And I wouldn’t be a discard anymore.

“Jackie?” Abby asked, bringing me back from my own little world.

“Sorry. What did you say?”

“Where are you two going to eat?”

“He said it would be a surprise.”

I gathered together the food I couldn’t stomach eating.  My friends had worked my guts into nervous knots again with their speculation.  I stood up and grabbed my tray, feeling the need to run like a scared rabbit. Before I could make my legs move, I glanced down at my friends and let my fear show.

I dropped back down onto the bench. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Oh, Jackie, honey.” Julie wrapped a reassuring arm around my shoulder. “Everyone likes you.”

“Yeah. You make us laugh,” Abby added.

I shook my head. “Guys don’t like smart-asses. What if I can’t keep my mouth shut?”

“He’ll love you,” Suzanne said. “We just didn’t click because... Well, just because. No chemistry.”

“No chemistry?” I asked.

She nodded and gave me a naughty smile. “You know—no funny feeling in my stomach. I mean, he’s handsome and all, but I have to feel...
chemistry
.”

“Yeah, we know,” Abby said. “You’ve felt chemistry three times already. And those are just the ones you married.”

Suzanne didn’t even appear offended at the jab. “
C’est la vie
. I have to have passion. What can I say?”

Abby shook her head and glanced back at me. “Maybe you’ll have chemistry with Mike.”

“Mark,” Julie corrected. “Are you all right, Jackie? You look a little...shaky.”

I shook my head. “I haven’t been on a date since Washington was president.” Then I remembered the date from hell. “Except for Stanley.”

Abby caught the inference. “Hey! He wasn’t
that
bad!”

“Neither was Norman Bates,” Julie said with a chuckle.

“I don’t know what was worse,” I added. “The pager and cell phone he carried so his mother could stay in touch or the really bad toupee.” I snorted a laugh. “I swear it looked like a small animal crawled on his head and died.”

“Maybe Mark will be different.” Julie patted my hand.

“Yeah. Maybe Mike will be different,” Abby chimed in.

Shit.
For almost a full minute, I’d forgotten.

I was going out with Mr. Yummy. I tried to control the panic that suddenly threatened to drown me. “I’m not sure I remember
how
to date. Wh–what do I wear? What do I do? How will I ever be able to keep my mouth shut?”

“You’ve already asked that,” Suzanne said. “You don’t have to keep your mouth shut. You’re funny, Jackie.”

Yeah, right. I’m hysterical
.

That’s not what guys want in a woman.

***

Carly Brennan found me in my classroom a few minutes after the final bell rang on Friday. “Ms. Delgado?”

I turned to see her standing in the doorway, staring intently at her shoes and nibbling on her bottom lip. “Hi, Carly. What’s up?” I asked as I finished lining the desks back into neat rows. They had a tendency to drift across the floor as the classes went on, and I was too anal retentive not to straighten them back up at the end of every day.

“Dad asked me to give you a message.”

I gave my head a small shake, knowing how uncomfortable she must be passing information between Mark and me. “Carly, your father shouldn’t use you as a messenger. It’s not fair to you.”

“What’d you mean?”

“I’m your teacher. He shouldn’t be telling you to give me messages.”

“Why not?” Her face bore the same incredulous meaning as her question.

It dawned on me that she didn’t feel awkward about her father going out with her biology teacher. The sticky situation just wasn’t “sticky” to her.

I was perpetually amazed at the adaptability of teenagers.

I didn’t have an answer to her question. “Fine. What’s the message?”

“Wear comfortable pants and bring a jacket.”

“It’s August. Why would I need a jacket?”

She smiled showing me her braces. “It’s a surprise. I’m supposed to ask if you’re allergic to anything.”

“Just bee stings,” I replied. “Why?”

“I told you. It’s a surprise.”

CHAPTER FOUR

I had been standing by the door in my shoes and jacket for almost thirty minutes before the doorbell rang.

It wasn’t that Mark was late. In fact, he was a couple minutes early. The problem was me.

I’d managed to work myself up into such a collection of nerves that my hands literally hurt from wringing them. Jacket on, jacket off. Jacket on, jacket off. I let out a small squeal when I heard the doorbell.

Jellybean started to whistle the theme from
The Addams Family
.

When I opened the door for Mark, I tried to appear casual and aloof at the idea of going out on a real date in who knows how long.  My demeanor probably came across as utterly terrified.

Mark looked great. He had on a pair of tan khakis and a dark blue polo shirt.

Casual sophistication
.

He gave me a quick glance from head to toe and smiled.

I wasn’t sure exactly what to think about that. Self-esteem issues always make me wonder if people smile at my appearances because I’m peculiar or because I’m acceptable. I voted for acceptable this time when he said, “You look great, Jackie.”

I smoothed my hands over my navy blue Dockers and felt the heat of a blush. “Thanks. So where are we heading?”

He smiled, showing those incredible white teeth. “Someplace you’ve probably never been before.”

Mark grabbed my jacket I’d draped over my arm, and then the guy actually took my hand in his. I think I blushed some more because my cheeks still felt hot.

Perimenopause.

But, God, I liked the feeling of that warm hand encasing mine. His touch radiated security, which was a notion I hadn’t entertained in several years.

Mark didn’t drop my hand until we were at his car. He opened the passenger door to the blue Honda Accord, and I slid inside. The interior was immaculate. The sedan still had that wonderful new car smell. I envied him for a moment.

The last new car I had purchased was the Chrysler mini-van I still drove. The model year was sometime in the latter part of the twentieth century. The damn thing had more miles on it than the tracks of the Transcontinental Railroad.  I had some abnormal attachment to the big red monster, even though it tended to break down on a regular basis at very inopportune moments. In the recesses of my demented mind, that van signified the last remnants of what had once upon a time been my family.

I should trade the silly thing in for something new in the spring.

Mark eased into the driver’s seat and buckled his seatbelt. He glanced over at me. “Got to wear a seatbelt, Jackie.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the law.” He reached across me to grab the belt from the door and pull it across my shoulder and waist. The man actually buckled me into his car!