Chapter 25

Tulip tapped me on the shoulder and came tiptoeing around the corner. “Was that him? How’d it go? Did you deliver?” she whispered.

“Well, I feel strangely liberated, Tulip. All I know is that I did it and I think I’m ready for another stack of pancakes.”

“You got it, sweetie,” she said as she trotted off. “And extra strawberries on the house.” Oh, that Tulip.

After the second batch of pancakes, I headed straight to Strawberry to offer myself up to exclusivity, but felt strangely soporific. I sensed the necessity for a little nap. One too many flapjacks, I’m afraid. Best to be perky at our commitment celebration.

Maybe there were some bad eggs in the batter, because I was really feeling woozy. Once home, my feet barely made it to the couch. The bed was way too many paces away. Slumber came quickly. Deep slumber. I felt like I would never wake up.

But I did. To the sounds of a distant loud speaker announcing our descent into Los Angeles.

A large hand was gently stroking my right arm. “We’re about to land. You better fasten your seat belt,” the soothing masculine voice said. My eyes would not open. I could hear the bustle around me, but I was confined to another world. I didn’t know whether I was here or there.

After a long eyelid-opening battle, I saw the light. And it was reflecting off of a wavy lock of red hair. My head was on the shoulder of a stranger. A stranger I had just committed myself to because he was a good miniature golfer.

“Oh, sorry,” I apologized, gazing up at the man I had nicknamed Mr. Strawberry. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.” I tried to straighten up, but my body wouldn’t move. And his didn't seem to want to move either.

“Not at all…but you did toss and turn a bit. Hope it was a good dream,” he said smiling.

Was it a good dream? I don’t know about that, but it sure was elaborate. I took a moment to try to piece it all together. The master tail twirler, my ex—Colin, seemed to be able to reach deep into my psyche whenever I had even a passing thought of another man. This had been going on for years. But was it possible that this time Mr. Strawberry, in some ginger way, help cut Colin’s cord to me? I couldn’t wait to talk to my therapist about this one.

“Ah, yes…it was a dream, all right,” I said to him, laughing and finally being forced into a full upright position. “I mean it was a…it was a good dream…a really sweet dream, thank you.”

And for all you romantics out there, Mr. Strawberry and Me have planned a Starbucks rendezvous for next week. A reminder that a middle seat may just be the saddle you've been looking for.

  The End… or the end of the beginning…

Chapter 24

“Where are you?” I inquired without attitude.

“On the golf course.”

“The golf course? But you were supposed to meet me at IHOP 45 minutes ago.”

“I know. I’m really sorry. But, I got hung up here playing a few extra holes. I lost track of time. I’ll be there in 15 minutes. You’re not mad are you, babe?” Colin asked while twirling his tail.

God bless him. He had so clinched the deal for me. I couldn’t help but smile. Not only because right now everything was so crystal clear, but because Tulip was giving me the encouraging thumbs-up sign from the syrup stand.

“I’m not mad,” I said softly. “However, I won’t be here in 15 minutes, so please take a seat in your cart. I have something to say.” My planned speech went out the IHOP window, and I spoke to him directly from my heart.

“Your resurrection in my life has conjured up a lot of spooky ju-ju, y’know. You’ve been very tempting, I must admit. I was starting to let myself be seduced again. And even though you’re apologetic, really trying hard and criminally handsome...I need to be with someone I can completely trust. And I can't trust you completely, Colin. Too many breaches. Frankly, I’m free of you. I will always care about you, but this relationship must stop dawdling. It’s over. I can’t see you…”

“Babe, I’m losin’ ya…” and his cell went dead.

That was weird.

to be continued…

Chapter 23

Here’s the thing. It’s not easy. It never is. These conversations, while ultimately soul satisfying, made me exhausted in preparation.

My head felt like mango marmalade gone bad. At first, fresh and smooth, then slowly developing into a stale, sticky state of mind.

After days of lively debate with two of my selves, “Should I” and “Shouldn’t I”, and embedding the pros and cons of such a commitment in my journal, I had finally made a decision about Strawberry’s exclusivity offer. I was convinced my decision was the right thing to do, and now I had to report the verdict to the losing candidate. Joyless activity.

Rehearsal for this had gone rather well, I thought, at least the first ten times. Then it became, as I said, the jam that wouldn’t gel. At that point I called Claire and asked if she thought reading a scripted disclosure on his voicemail would be a cop-out. “Brilliant,” she said, “but lacking adulthood.” Right. 

So I wrote it out anyway and memorized it. I wondered if this was what some people do when they tell an unsuspecting spouse why they want a divorce. It’s scary stuff. Breaking up is hard to do.

And breaking up was what I was on my way to do right now. I had chosen IHOP for the location of our conversation. Lots of people around, no one could slug me and get away with it, and plus, I get energized after a big stack of pancakes.

I arrived early to guarantee a table of my favorite waitress, Tulip. Yes, it’s true. Whatever possessed her parents, I don’t know, but her name was Tulip. And Tulip always made me feel safe.

As I swung open the double doors to this iconic restaurant, founded in 1958, I saw her twinkling eyes bouncing back at me. Not more than 4’8” tall and just as round, she resembled a munchkin. Tulip grabbed me with one hand, while balancing a tray of French Toast with the other, and led me to her section. “Sit here,” she commanded. “I’ll be right back”.

“Everything ok? You look a little peaked,” Tulip said upon her return.

“Actually, I’m about to break off a relationship right here at IHOP,” I confided.

“Perfect,” she said, squeezing my hand. “People do that here all the time. You’ll be fine. Now, what you need is some courage.” Tulip winked and waddled away.

No sooner had I rehearsed my separation speech one last time, when she plopped a huge pile of strawberry pancakes in front of me. If she only knew…or maybe she did. Whatever, Tulip pointed her stubby finger at the pancakes and simply said, “Courage. Now eat up.”

And so I did, voraciously. Then I waited. And waited. And waited some more.

Where was he? Now that I had consumed gluttonous courage and added a blubber line to my rib cage, I was ready. All rehearsing had ceased. I was experiencing unexpected confidence and an odd sense of peace.

Suddenly my phone rang. It was him.

to be continued…

Chapter 22

Off we went, hand in hand, to the miniature golf course. I hadn’t played this game for nearly a century, and I figured he couldn’t possibly be any worse than he was at baseball. Perhaps he’d even win. Unlikely, but it was possible. Not that I was a star putter, but Strawberry seemed to have a DNA deficiency for gaming. 

We stood on the little green mound that marked the beginning point of Hole #1, both of us holding our clubs like a couple of professional putters. Suddenly Strawberry got very serious. “All right,” he said, “I’d like to wager a bet. If you win, I’ll buy you a whole cheesecake*. If I win, you have to consider the two of us being exclusive.”

Gulp.

I swiveled away from Strawberry, and stared at the drawbridge connecting the manicured mound and the big white castle in front of us. Did he say exclusive?

“OK, c’mon. There’s people waiting behind us,” he pressured. “What’s it gonna be?”

Uh oh, he wasn’t going to give me time to think about this.

“Deal or no deal?”

“Deal,” I must have mumbled.

“Good. You go first,” Strawberry said, taking control.

Following orders, I swung the club, and the ball plopped directly into the stream under the drawbridge, making a big splash. Way to go. I fished it out of the lime-looking water and completed my turn, scoring six on a par-three. I was confused. Was I suppose to win or lose? Strawberry or cheesecake?

He then very confidently laid his ball down, eyed the path to its final destination and swung. I watched as it went over the drawbridge, through the castle, down the steps, across the garden and into the little round cup. Hole in one.

I was gobsmacked.

“You didn’t tell me you were good at golf,” I said astonished.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he quickly responded. “Ready for the next hole?”

Why that sneaky Strawberry. Turns out not only did he play semi-pro golf right after college, but then he moved on to the putt-putt golf circuit and won the Tri-state championship five years in a row. The things they forget to tell you.

I needed to take a nice deep breath. Even though we’d been dating several months I had no clue this new deal was coming. But nothing stays the same, and the only constant is change. I know. I know.

I was wild about Strawberry, adored Charlie, and Natalie had moved clear to Kentucky for a new job raising rabbits. Just kidding. But she did temporarily relocate to Kentucky to work on some big tort case where she could continue to hone her maverick skills. Thank you, Kentucky.

So things were good. Yeah, they were good…just the way they were. Exclusivity with him certainly had its appeal, but I knew it meant relinquishing some freedoms, including my dalliance with Colin. No more tail-twirling or wandering around in the pasture.

Was I going to have to choose?

Evidently. Because Strawberry won with the best putt-putt score this place ever had. Stand by.

to be continued...

*Check out the divine White Chocolate Cheesecake recipe on the Recipes page.      

                                                                                                        

Chapter 21

Strawberry swung. And missed. He swung again. And missed again. Well, that’s okay. He still looked good in the red helmet.

Another ball. Another swing. Another miss. Well a miss hit, actually. He tipped it. 

“Almost,” I encouraged from the bench.

He failed to acknowledge my comment. In silent prayer, I asked the universe for slugger intervention. I even offered to give up chocolate for a week if he could just hit the ball. I thought that was a pretty good deal.

I was concerned. He now had only 27 more opportunities from the ball machine to make contact. I watched with great apprehension. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to come to the batting cages after all.

When we arrived at the park, I had volunteered to go first. Being a decent batter, I hit all 30 pitches that came barreling my way, and fouled only once. The foul popped up, came straight down, and bounced twice off my head. Thank God for that purple sparkly headgear.

Now there he was, taking his turn like a real trooper. My Mr. Strawberry, standing there with such earnestness, such commitment, struggling to connect. Who knew he would suck at baseball?

He did hit ball number 13. Not far, but he did hit it. “Atta boy,” I cheered. This time he turned and winked. At least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor.

By the time it was over, Strawberry connected with a total of five balls. Probably a record of some sort. But he didn’t seem too bothered by his lack of aptitude with a stick and an orb. Instead he took it like a man, dropping his bat and planting a virile kiss upon my lips. He might not be good at baseball, but he was a good sport and a darn good kisser.

“Now let’s hit the putt-putt range,” Strawberry whispered in my ear.

Imagine my shock at this suggestion. He had to be kidding. My heart couldn’t bear it, how could his?

“Ah, no need. Let’s just go get a slice of cheesecake and call it a day,” I said running my hands through his thick, red hair.

“No, let’s give it a go. Are you game?” he asked, gently tapping my tush.

“Well,” I said, a little distracted by the tapping, “I’m a game kind of girl, so yes, let’s go putt-putt.”

He was up to something but I wasn’t sure what.

to be continued...

Chapter 20

 

I knew I was avoiding the topic. They’d say I’m nuts about even entertaining the possibility of dating him again, which I wasn’t. I don’t think. And nothing (much) was really happening anyway. Was it?

So why stir it up? Except...truth is the slope might be getting so slippery that I could actually fall. Again. Maybe I did need additional input from the gang. And Claire’s eyebrow lift was so severe, that I decided to fess up and keep it honest.

“Oh, and Colin called me a few months ago,” I dropped casually.

They stared at me incredulously.

Finally Kate spoke, though briefly.

“And?”

“And I’ve seen him a couple of times,” I reluctantly continued.

“Are you nuts?” Maggie blurted.

 See, told ya.

“Let me finish,” I tried to explain. “He called out of the blue and left a message. That night I dreamt he was at my door with a shrunken torso, a schmushed head and twirling a long thin tail. I woke up in a terrible sweat. And the next day he actually showed up uninvited, with flowers, begging forgiveness, again. No more lost and lonely Lola. He’s changed. So he says. And I’ve had a few lunches with him. OK, and maybe a few dinners. But that’s all. He’s being patient, but persistent. There. That’s it.”

Then the quizzing began. How could I talk to him again? But since I did, what did he say? Where has he been? Where did we go for lunch? How did I feel? Was I out of my mind? What about Strawberry?

Lenny’s only question was—could Colin come to game night again? The women jabbed him with their eyes. Colin, unlike Strawberry, was an excellent game player.

“This reminds me of when I was interrogated while working undercover in Nicaragua,” I said deflecting.

“You worked undercover in Nicaragua?” Kate asked, cupping her chin.

“Maybe,” I teased.

Maggie piped in. “We have a right to protest, you know. We don’t want you hurt again. That big fat cheater.”

“I know.”

Long dissenting pause.

“But, hypothetically, what if it’s suppose to be?” I wondered.

“Hypothetically,” Maggie responded, “What if there was an oversized bull headed your way, would you stand there contemplating if the universe wanted you to take him for a stroll through the pasture, or would you run like hell?”

“Good point.”

I needed a nap.

to be continued…

Chapter 19

“Lemontini please,” I said to the nice waitress with an extra large earring in her nose. I was dying to ask if it hurt, if it ever got infected and what possessed her, but I was exhausted from too much information for one day already and withheld questioning.

It had been a long day and I was looking forward to this evening with my friends. We hadn’t seen each other for a while, and the gathering was overdue. These were my game night people and comrades to count on, Maggie, Kate, Claire and our token male, Lenny.

For the first twenty minutes we discussed the audacious blemish that had crept onto Kate’s chin. Where did it come from? How to get rid of it? And why humans, no matter what age, have to put up with pimples? None of us had definitive answers, but Lenny told us “zit” in German is “pickel.” I’d been waiting my whole life to know that.

At some point during these nights, everybody gets a talking shift. We do a quick rotation on current events in our lives. My turn arrived in conjunction with the dessert menu. Though the ‘Death by Chocolate’ was devilishly tempting, I selected a berry bowl after another peek at Kate’s swelled chin.

I told them work was going well, that finally, after all these years, I’d found a bra that fit, and Strawberry was sweeter than ever.

Strawberry had attended a game night once, so they all knew him. It’s not that he’s bad at games, he’s just not good. Everybody liked him a lot but didn’t really want him on their team. Frankly, he didn’t seem to care much that he was so God-awful, and we laughed about it later.

After I told them about our romantic getaway to the mountains for Valentine’s day, Claire looked at me funny. She gave me the eyebrow lift, and I knew what it meant. Was I going to tell the others that Colin had reemerged?

To tell you the truth, I hadn’t planned on it.

to be continued…