Brooke told me that she knows she is not what men think of as a beautiful girl. I wasn't going to lie to her and tell her she was wrong. "You know what, Brooke, you're so damned cute, you don't need to be beautiful. I'm glad you're not some centerfold Barbie."
She smiled at me. "You mean it? You think I'm cute?"
"Enough that it pains me that I'm not forty years younger, but I suppose if I were, you'd be out of my league."
This conversation followed Brooke telling me about dumping the boyfriend she'd had through high school and into college when she discovered he'd been cheating on her the whole time. At twenty-three she was damaged goods, gun shy of men and struggling with self-esteem.
I met her at a writing workshop. I noticed her immediately. She really was cute, long, dark curly hair, smallish face with nice regular features, clear olive skin, full lips, straight white teeth and a button of nose. On further examination, her body was cute too. Full rounded hips, slender neck, good posture and she knew how to fill a sweater. Some might think she was a little on the heavy side but short of what I'd call plump. I'd say healthy looking.
I was not teaching the workshop. It was being run by a local arts council and we were participants, she, the youngest, I the oldest. We met monthly and about 4 months in, Brooke and I found ourselves working together on an assigned collaboration, something I was not looking forward to. I prefer to work alone. Brooke and I both seemed to be loners. Six other participants had paired off, leaving Brooke and me with with each other by default.
The project involved producing two short stories, one by each writer, based on a story line provided by the partner. The story had to be fiction, but could be based on something true. The story line Brooke gave me when we met outside of class at a coffee shop, was the story of her break-up with the only young man she had ever gone with. I thought it was a poor choice of topic, but writing a story from the point of view of a naive young woman was sure to represent a challenge and, while it wasn't my intention to delve into private details like sex with someone so young, she had to give me enough detail about the relationship for me to hang my story on. As I interviewed her, I decided I really needed to write two stories, one that would be shared with workshop and one that was strictly for my own -- call it entertainment.
Brooke and Matt (fictional names for the story) had been together since the tenth grade. Before Matt, Brooke had only kissed one other boy. After their senior prom, Brooke gave up her virginity to Matt. It was clumsily done but the two of them embarked on a summer of love, most often in the back of Matt's car, until they went off to different colleges in the fall, pledging to be true to each other. The two of them were several hundred miles apart and planned to see each other at Thanksgiving and Christmas then on spring break and the following summer. They did this for two years, with regular lengthy phone calls late into the night in between. The second summer, Matt seemed different. He didn't seem as anxious to see Brooke. He sometimes made excuses for not seeing her that didn't ring true. Finally, a cousin, who was a senior at the college Matt attended, told Brooke that she knew why. Matt had girlfriend at school. She had seen them together on and off campus several times. Brooke was crushed by the news and even more so when Matt, apparently manning up, didn't deny it. Once the two of them broke it off, Brooke heard from other sources that all through high school Matt had been sleeping with other girls who attended schools in nearby towns, at least three of them. Brooke was beyond crushed. She was devastated and humiliated. She was apparently the last to know.
Over the four years since, Brooke had yet to date another boy, unable to trust anyone. She also dropped out of school, took waiting jobs in local restaurants and lived with her parents. To stave off loneliness, Brooke reconnected with two high school girlfriends who had enrolled in the local community college instead of going off to college. The three of them were nearly inseparable for awhile but each of her friends had gotten into relationships recently, leaving Brooke feeling left out. That's why she got involved in the writing workshop, to absorb some of her time and to connect with other people. She was a smart girl. She seemed to know what was good for her.
I was sympathetic with Brooke in a fatherly way. I suggested if she wanted, that we could meet for coffee once in awhile, even after the workshop was over. She seemed pleased to have made another friend, even one older than her own parents.
At one of our meet ups, Brooke seemed particularly sad. She told me her 24th birthday was coming and, aside from the family tradition of cake and ice cream, no celebration was planned. Her friends were all busy. I patted the back of her hand, then left my hand resting on her wrist and looked into her eyes. "What if I took you out for a nice dinner, if not on your birthday, the day after. Would that be too weird?"
Her mood brightened slightly. She said, "no, it wouldn't be weird. It would be great. It doesn't have to be a fancy place, though. I'm not used to that."
"Oh, it'll be a fancy place alright. Nothing's too good for you. You might even want to buy a new dress. If it makes you uncomfortable to be out with someone so old, you can call me grandpa while we're out together."
We settled on the details of date and time. Brooke said we could meet at our coffee shop, I'm sure to spare us both the embarrassment of her being picked up by a fake grandpa. I told her to be dressed to the nines, that I would be in a suit and tie.
When Brooke showed up for our date, I was knocked out by her look. She went with the proverbial little black dress with matching heels, light make up, gold bangles on one wrist and a simple gold chain on the other, matching one that she wore on one ankle. A triple strand of what I assumed to be faux pearls contrasted with the dress, setting off her elegant neck. The hem of the dress was high, the neckline, low. The longest strand of the pearls dipped provocatively into her ample cleavage. She was completely sexy without being trashy. I wasn't sure I'd be able to stand and walk out the place to go to the expensive dinner I had planned without my own embarrassment. I complemented Brooke profusely, causing her to blush sweetly.
The date took place in the most expensive restaurant I could find, a place known for the freshest seafood and the best wine list in the area. I was prepared for dinner for two with champagne to set me back three-hundred dollars or more. Once seated, I ordered a full bottle of champagne, not the most expensive but close to it. We had two flutes each before dinner arrived, lobster at market price.
Brooke's blue eyes sparkled in the candle light. This dinner made her very happy. She chatted away in a low voice. Twice while we talked, she reached across the small table and put her hand in mine. I was a little uncomfortable with it at first. It seemed different to me that the quick hello and goodbye hugs we shared coming and going from our coffee shop rendezvous. I attributed her flirty behavior to the champagne.
