As I am driving to her house, I wonder why she invited me. I mean, a teacher inviting a student to her home is just odd. It isn't conventional but it is okay; I mean, I'm grown and she's grown and she's not my teacher any more. The night class she taught was over last semester so she's no more my teacher than just some woman I happen to know. Hmm, it is still odd though.
Thoughts swirl around in my mind and even though I have trepidation, I do not turn around and go back home. I suppose I've always been the curious type and a bit of a dare devil. Why not go to her house and see what things are like? I mean, what's the harm? I can always leave if things aren't to my liking. The truth is, I find her absolutely intriguing and a peek inside her house will give me insight into her personal life. Things like, what her family photos look like? Is her family large? Does she live alone? How is her home decorated? Does she live in a tiny condo or a sprawling house? Does she have pets? You know, questions of that sort.
I ease down the street looking for the appropriate house number. I know I must be close but I don't see any cars. Maybe I'm the first person to arrive? As my car creeps toward the next house on the right, I see the house number she gave me. I must be here. I park on the side of the street then look over to assess the house. It is hard to see because the lot is heavily wooded and has dense foliage but, from what I can tell, it's a large, nice house. I check my appearance in the rear view mirror, smooth down a few fly-away hairs, take a deep breath, and leave the safety of my car for the unknown.
It's a perfect day. The sun is bright, the temperature is about 72 degrees, and the humidity is low. The yard doesn't have any grass. It's too wooded for grass to grow but there are lots of shrubs and large laurel types of plants. There is a wooden walkway leading to the front door and I meander up the path to the house. The solid front door is open and a beautiful beveled storm door separates the inside from the outside.
This is it! I'm here and all that's between us is glass. I take another huge, deep breath and ring the doorbell. I see her coming down the hallway to let me in and I smile at her, probably awkwardly, and she smiles back.
"Come on in! Did you have any trouble finding the place?" She asks.
"No, I'm pretty good with directions and I didn't have any trouble." I reply.
"Good. Come on in and get comfortable," she says leading me into the back of the house.
The first thing I notice is that she's barefoot. Her auburn hair is in a very loose, messy bun held in place with a chop stick looking thing, and she's wearing a blue gauze sun dress. As I begin to follow her down the hall, I ask, "Am I the first guest to arrive?"
"First?" She replies with a question in her inflection. "Oh, no. You're the only guest. The party is now officially started."
Oh. Wow. Now, I'm really nervous. I'm not good at chit-chatting and when a party consists of a very small number of people, I'm expected to talk and carry my end of conversation. If the party is rather large, I can blend in the background and observe. I'm more comfortable observing and listening. I ask, "Is it just us or will your husband and family be coming?"
"Just you and me." She replies innocuously.
She leads me into the kitchen. It's large and airy with a small sitting area on the left side. There's an island, bar space, two sinks, a rustic sort of Quaker style breakfast-room table, and two French doors that are open and lead out onto a patio. There are many cut flowers laid out on the counter and an empty vase sitting nearby. She goes over to a wine rack and seems to think a minute, then pulls out a merlot and says, "How about a merlot? You like red wine, don't you?" Then, she looks at me and squints as if thinking hard and says, "Yes. You are a red wine drinker."
I do not reply to her question and besides, it was rhetorical anyway. I am too busy assessing my surroundings and reminding myself to breath. There's a lump in my throat and my nerves are about to overtake me. I usually do not drink this early in the day but today, I will make an exception. I need to calm down a bit and some wine may help me do that. It will also make chit-chatting easier and that's always a plus!
She begins uncorking the wine and says, "Sit, Leigh."
"Where?"
"Anywhere. How about here, on one of these stools. You can watch me work." Katherine says.
I'm not quite sure what she means by work but okay, whatever. I sit on one of the bar stools and she slides a full glass of wine in my direction. "You are a red wine drinker, aren't you?" She asks.
I reply by nodding yes. My state has gone passed being nervous to bona fide apprehension and the lump in my throat has grown large enough that I'm not sure I can speak without my condition being obvious.
She raises her glass of wine and says, "A toast. To friends!"
I raise my glass to hers and then, we both sip.
There is a pause, then she says without inflection, "You can talk, you know."
I reply matter-of -factly, "Yes, I can."
She begins arranging flowers and I continue to look around the room. After a minute, I get up and look at some pictures on top of a small roll top desk. I see a man who appears to be her husband and two young men, perhaps in their late teens, who appear to be her sons. For clarity I ask, "Is this your husband?"
"That was my husband, Steve, and our sons Patrick and Jason. Steve died a few years ago and now it's just my boys and me. Both Patrick and Jason are away at college."
"I'm sorry for your loss. That must have been rough."
She looks at me and replies, "Yes, it was rough; but things are okay now." Then, she smiles.
I think, there doesn't seem to be any indication of a party here. She did invite me to a party at her house. Even if it's only a party of two, you'd expect hors d'oeuvres or something. As I look around, there doesn't seem to be anything special planned for this space today. I take a large gulp of wine and notice the breeze gently blowing her sundress. The material is caressing her body and she is truly lovely in blue. I also like her hair up. It shows her pretty shoulders.
"What is on your mind, Leigh?"
"Why I'm here."
"Is that all?"
"At the moment." I reply.
She continues to arrange flowers while the breeze sweeps around her gently blowing her dress. Without looking at me, and with the most nonchalant attitude imaginable, she replies, "You're here because I invited you and because you wanted to come." She pauses then continues, "It's that simple. You're here, spending time with me on this beautiful Saturday. We're sharing a bottle of wine and enjoying just being together."
"We are?" I thought. I can't say I'm enjoying anything right now. I'm so nervous that I'm about to vibrate, which is not a good feeling! The only good thing I can think of is that I'm getting an impression about her life and what she's like privately.
"Drink, Leigh. I have plenty more wine." She says.
My response is to down the remainder of the alcohol. I place the empty glass on the bar and I take a seat once more on the bar stool. She refills my glass. I notice she's only taken about three sips of hers. I need to be careful because I might get tipsy while she remains sober. That would not be good so I make a mental note to pace myself.
Just then, the wine's effect washes over me like a tidal wave and I relax, some.
Noticing my body relax a tad, she says, "That's it. I would like you to be comfortable and I have more than enough wine to help."
Damn. She's watching me closely enough to see if I'm tense or notice when I relax. I know she's observant. I realized that when I was in her class. I'm just not used to being the subject of anyone's observations, or more than that; even scrutiny.
