IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT

It was the kind of place where you had to bring your own beer, but the fish sandwiches were perfectly fried. I sat at the bar, with a six pack, well, now dwindled to a four pack, of Abita sat under my feet. It was odd for this fish shack to have a bar, but no booze. The owner, Eric, was dark and broody and preferred his customers to take their food and go. This would might have worked if his niece, Sally, his only employee, hadn’t started the byob rumor to get customers into her uncle’s fish shop. I sat at the bar with my Abitas every Friday evening, sharing my beers with Sally, eating a fish sandwich and playing dice with Sally in between her waitressing duties. I was pretty sure Eric didn’t like me. I’d only lived in the area for about a year. Most people were still a bit suspicious, but Eric seemed genuinely irritated by presence.

This particular evening seemed extra irritating. It was hot and muggy. The air had that electrical smell it gets before a storm. Newscaster’s and weathermen were already talking about expected damages. No one in the fish shack looked particularly concerned, but customers were more inclined to get their orders to go. At 9 pm on a Friday night, Sally and I were the only two left out front with Eric banging around in the kitchen. I handed Sally my last Abita and said “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back and then I’m packing up to go.” I could see lightning flashing in the distance. Sally pouted and whined “It’s too early. Storm season is so boring.” Eric stuck his head out the order window and looked directly at me. “We should close shop early tonight, Sally.” I headed to the bathroom.

When I came out, the place was deserted. Half the lights were turned off. I could hear Eric in the kitchen washing up the last of the dishes. “Hey…um…did Sally leave? I’m just going to grab my stuff….Eric?” I yelled hoping he’d hear me over the running water. I reached down for my bag, but the strap had gotten wrapped around the heavy barstool next to it. I bent down and tilted the bar stool with my shoulder and freed the strap, struggling slightly with the weight and number of beers I’d had. I stood up a little unsteadily and turned around and then ran right into Eric’s not so soft chest. He grabbed my upper arms to steady me and when I looked up at his face, he was looking down at me with one eyebrow raised. “It’s raining.” He said. I paused and could hear the rain hitting the metal roof. “Yup, it sure is. You know…I’m only at the end of the street. I think I can get a little wet.” I said. Thunder cracked suddenly and I jumped, again bumping into Eric’s body. This time I jumped back like I’d been scalded. Jesus, Cindy, get it together, I thought to myself.

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but really I’ll be fine. Plus, I’m pretty sure I am the last person you probably want to be trapped in a storm with.” I said. Eric chuckled. “Why would you think that? I feed you every Friday night and you talked Sally into going back to school. I’m just not warm and fuzzy, I guess, but I like you just fine.” It was the way he said that last bit. It made my mouth go dry and my breath catch in my throat. Then Eric leaned down close and said “I probably like you more than I want to like you. In fact, I knew you’d be a pain in my ass the first time you walked in that door.” I don’t know, maybe it was the beer, but at the next boom of thunder, instead of jumping back, I jumped forward, wrapping my arms around his neck and planting my lips on his. He didn’t seem all that surprised by my action because his large hands went straight down to grip my ass.

And that is when I woke up gasping and realizing that I could probably write a decent trashy romance novel. In my sleep.

Lupercalia

Before it was changed to Valentine’s Day, it was the Feast of Lupercalia where the Romans sacrificed animals and beat woman who apparently lined up to be beaten in the name of increased infertility. Then like all the other Pagan holidays, the Catholic church got ahold of it and turned into a day to celebrate Saint Valentine, the patron saint of love and couples, bee keepers, and epilepsy. And like most Pagan holidays taken by the Catholic church, corporations have taken hold of it and made it into big business with chocolate covered everything and diamonds forever.

I remember a time when I was not so cynical about Valentine’s Day and took quite a bit of joy from decorating a shoebox into a Valentine mailbox. This was also the age of everyone getting a Valentine. Valentine’s Day changed when I left behind elementary school. Then it became a blatant reminder of my weirdness and inaptitude with courting and the opposite sex. I was the girl who received a box of chocolates every year from her dad, which is sweet and slightly pathetic. I can remember moments of sitting on my bed, a book open but set aside while I poked holes in all the different chocolates and then eating the ones that did not have pink oozing centers. Valentine’s Day stung more during my adolescence and not at all as an adult because by then my days were peppered with romantic gestures. One day devoted to romance was unnecessary.

In the now times, Valentine’s Day is a hindrance to romantic gesture, what with overcrowded and overpriced restaurants and the expectation of making an extra special effort. Michael had a head cold the week before last and now I have that head cold. We’ve been taking turns with caregiving, all while trying to maintain regular routines. Taking turns making dinner and cleaning up afterwards is our extra effort. My tone may sound jaded, but truthly I am indifferent. I do have an anthropological curiosity of how Valentine’s Day will continue to evolve. I feel like this younger generation is more accepting of gender fluidity and more socially and environmentally conscious. We are progressively redefining ‘romance’. This way of thinking will eventually force corporations to find a different way to sell you a holiday and I am curious about what that is going to look like.

Probably not a shoebox decorated with doilies and hearts.

No matter my feelings on the holiday, I do hope that the day has brought you the love you need in this moment and not a beating. Unless that’s your thing, you have a safe word, and you’ve expressly consented to it.

LOVE THURSDAY

I left Michael here last week. It just seemed like the most humane thing to do. He didn't really know Dad and we were supposed to have the Cabbage that weekend. It was too much. It was just easier to go on my own and only have to worry about myself. But schedules got shifted and weekends changed and Michael ended up spending the weekend on his own. We'll have the Cabbage this weekend. This worked out well for a couple of reasons. The last night of the last full week of Cabbage summer, I was doing my part of the nightly ritual. After a book and goodnight hugs, kisses, and animal kisses with Dad, I talk her through a final relaxation. I trick her to sleep with yoga. At the end I said that I needed to go to bed too so I could get up early. The Cabbage asked "Do you have to go to work tomorrow? When are you going to stay home so we can play?". Stab and twist kid. I felt a little guilty knowing that the next time we had her, I'd be out of town.

Michael's summer vacation if over and he's back to work this week. Really he's been part time back to work for two weeks now, but this week is full time with no kids. Next week is full time and with all of the kids, officially ending summer. Michael needed that weekend before to himself. He needed to be able to gather his thoughts and things and tools he's going to need to teach and teach well. So Michael got a weekend to himself and the next time we have the Cabbage for a weekend, I will be able to stay home and play. Michael did spend some of his weekend alone time cleaning out and organizing the food closet. Saturday evening he sent me a picture of the food closet after he'd done all the cleaning and I swooned. No, like really. It made me weak in the knees. Maybe a before picture would have explained things better. I mean, it's not like you couldn't open the door without fear of things falling out on you. It wasn't that bad. I should say that we should never buy tea again or we don't really need to buy tea again.

You see, some girls like their significant other to bring them diamonds or flowers. Some girls are into being romantically serenaded or have pages of poetry written in their honor. There are women who think there's nothing more attractive than seeing their partner holding a child, preferably their child. There are many ways to woo a woman. Apparently, well organized closets are my thing. You should see how I react inside a Container Store (pure joy). When he sent me that picture, I immediately replied "I love you". I may have said a few not safe for work things after that, but all you really need to know is the "I love you" part. Because that sums it up really. I believe I had a similar reaction when he cleaned the garage.  Michael has learned or is learning the way to my heart.