Wednesday, August 16th, 2006. 6:40 pm
"I
've met someone."
Ana moved the frames on her desk one more time.
Perfect
. The sudden hush wouldn't last long; she knew them all too well.
Right on cue, Sasha used her own words against her. "You've been there, what...twenty minutes? Our girl works fast, doesn't she?!"
"Funny," Ana tried for a flat retort but their laughter was too infectious.
Michelle giggled. "What's he like? How'd you meet? Details!"
Ana resisted getting swept up in Michelle's hopefulness—there was no reason to, even if she wished otherwise.
"We met at Borders while I was waiting to meet Simon."
"How are things going with him?" Michelle asked carefully.
"They're getting better...it's still a little weird, but definitely better. It was his idea for us to meet for dinner."
"That's a good sign, Ana!" Michelle encouraged. "Maybe he just needs time to come around."
"Time will tell."
"Tell us about your mystery man," Sasha butted in impatiently. In switching the topic, Ana knew Sasha was also trying to be diplomatic where Simon was concerned.
"What's his name?"
Ana's smiled instantly. "His name's Sean. Sean Brennan. You'd both like him. He's such fun to be around, makes me laugh all the time."
"Jeez, it's like pulling teeth," Sasha complained. Michelle giggled in agreement.
"Okay, Miss Walters. What do you want to know?"
"What does he look like?"
"How old is he?" Michelle chimed in.
"What does he do?" Sasha volleyed quickly.
Michelle raised the stakes. "Is he relationship material?"
But Sasha wouldn't be outdone. "Have you two...?"
"Okay! Okay!"
"He's thirty-two and when it comes to his looks, let's just say, Sean wasn't hiding behind a door when God handed out tall, blue-eyed and handsome."
Her girls laughed and begged for more as she told them about their meeting in Borders. Suddenly, they were teenagers talking about a crush on an upperclassman.
"Go on!" Michelle gushed.
"He has a very masculine presence about him, always very put together—but not a pretty-boy; it's more of an old-Hollywood vibe. Oh..." Ana remembered a trait she admired and envied all at once. "He's got great hair."
"How unfair," Michelle mock complained before Sasha started the next round.
"What's he like personality-wise? Sounds like he's flirty from what you said."
"He is, but it's not in a hound dog way, you can tell he genuinely likes women."
"Men like that are
divine
!"
"And an endangered species," Sasha grumped, her stored regrets buried under sarcasm.
"Yours is out there," Michelle promised. Her bright words confirmed that she still didn't know . "If you say so, Shelly." The one thing that could cast a temporary shadow over Michelle's perpetual sunshine, was having her name abbreviated to "Shelly".
"Ana, you were saying." The schoolmarm edge effectively admonished Sasha.
"We're different in a lot of ways."
Sasha responded first to the hesitant observation. "Oh-kay?"
"Well, he has no qualms at all about walking up to a complete stranger and start talking to them."
"You're friendly," Michelle insisted flatly.
"Yeah, it just takes you a minute. Besides, wasn't it
you
who approached him? Which differences are you really worried about?"
"Well, he usually has ten things going on at once and it's like he only has two speeds: go, go, go...and sleep," Ana paused, "it reminds me a little of Chris."
"
Oh
," her girls chorused.
"If you can strike a balance between the two of you, you could compliment each other really well," Michelle countered. "You wouldn't fit as good with a low-key guy; you'd be bored, Ana. And maybe a hyperactive woman would get on Sean's nerves."
"Is he a party boy like Chris?" Sasha prodded.
"No."
"Then maybe you're letting past experience define your expectations and to help you stay guarded. You're still getting to know each other. Keep an open mind and see what happens." Michelle had a point—hopeful yet valid.
She doesn't give up, does she?
"Tell us more about Sean."
The mere sound of his name blanketed Ana in warmth.
"He's surprisingly intuitive for a guy and so smart; not in a snobbish, know-it-all way, more like "did you know the quirky history or detail behind this or that"?"
"Generous but not professorial," Sasha summarized.
"Right," Ana agreed, "and he enjoys trying new things."
"What else?" Michelle sounded like she was about to burst.
"He plays the guitar and he's a lawyer over at Vanguard Music."
Michelle did indeed burst.
Ana grinned, remembering a private performance while she snuggled in a cloud of white sheets; Sean's soulful voice had been a surprise. But Ana saved the
pièce de résistance
for Sasha.
"He's taking me out for a ride on a Harley this weekend," she drawled.
"I could so hate you right now!" Sasha wailed.
"And now for the big question." The edge in Sasha's voice made her flush as the still image flipped back to the minutes before when there'd been no guitar. "Does he have a brother?"
They all roared with laughter.
"So?" Michelle's question was loaded with innuendo.
"Yes, we have..." Ana stopped as memories surfaced of how it had been with Sean in this very bed. She waited a heartbeat shy of being cruel. "And it's very good."
The silence erupted in cheers and more laughter. Ana knew what was coming and decided to cut Michelle off.
"It's not serious." She often repeated those words like a prayer whenever temptation came around, taunting her with words like "future", and "relationship".
"Oh." Michelle's disappointed note was so eloquent, it floated down Ana's ear and settled in her marrow.
"Sean's a good guy...a great guy," Ana amended. She felt protective of him despite their short time together and agreed-upon casualness.
"Then what's wrong?" Ana didn't expect this from Sasha.
"It happened really fast and even though everything's been good, I can't see it going anywhere."
"Why?" Sasha pressed.
"Would you like it to go somewhere?" Michelle just had to go there.
I don't know. Yes?
"There's so much we don't know about each other," Ana hedged. "I get confused when I think about it. This isn't me...jumping into something like this, but it feels... Just because we're not meant to ride off into the sunset together doesn't mean it's not worth enjoying. I don't...I still haven't figured it all out," Ana fumbled. "I'm being careful though."
But I've been slipping up.
"Oh, hun," Michelle's voice was like a warm hug. "We just want you to be happy. You deserve it."
"Yeah," Sasha supplied, "and if this Sean guy makes you happy, then go for it, enjoy it. Be happy."
"You know, I don't think you ever sounded like this about a guy, this early on. Not even with Chris."
There Michelle went on again, weaving fairytales out of absolutely nothing. Thank goodness, Sasha saw things just as they were.
"You know, you're right," Sasha agreed.
Uh-oh.
"Guys, it's not like that." A chalkiness lingered on her tongue after she said the words. Disappointment.
This is foolish.
"We understand, hun," Michelle reassured. "Just don't be so quick to write him off or close the door on something that could turn out to be wonderful. Life doesn't always go the way you planned and sometimes you just have to roll with it."
"Yeah," Sasha said too heavily.
The conversation continued as though the two-thousand miles and three time zones separating them didn't exist.
* * * Ana paced her small apartment and ended up where she started. The memories in here and all that talking about Sean made her miss him more; ridiculous, since they usually saw each other on the weekends. Or at least that's how it was supposed to go. Last week had been an aberration. Still, uncomfortable truths hovered on the edge of her awareness. Sean could never be dismissed as "some guy". And some of these feelings weren't the "just casual" type.
Her fingers outlined the corners of the note card as she sat on the bed. Her recollections of last Monday night sweetened since she found it attached to the elegantly wrapped box. The white satin ribbon around it became another treasured memento she kept stored in the night table. The gift inside the box—like the words on the note—was simple, provocative and carefully chosen to stir her, to remind her of their first time.
A little, red bikini made of sheer tulle and lace—a far more exquisite replacement for the one he'd ripped off of her.