“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, as we uncomfortably entered my place. “I was anxious to see you.”
He was so close behind me that I felt a little claustrophobic. His big feet took this extra step and removed the heel of my right shoe in the process. This, for whatever reason, made me itch. And sneeze. Then I remembered I was allergic to his soap.
“Oh. Sorry, babe,” he apologized.
I reached down to recover the loss of my sneaker and tried to breathe. “Could you give me a moment, please?” I demanded, hobbling off to my bathroom.
“Okay, but you look great,” I heard from a distance.
Reluctantly, I looked in the mirror and let out a silent scream. Not just at the reflection, but at my current predicament. No time for processing. Only solution was muscle up and confront. So, I pulled my hair into a ponytail, brushed my teeth and feasted my face with cover-up.
When I returned, Colin was standing in the same spot. However, he was now holding two bouquets of calla lilies. “There was a knock at your door. Delivery guy. Got something goin’ babe?”
“Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.” I said, amusing myself, thinking of Strawberry.
He laughed. So did I. And a thaw began. Colin probed no further about the possible other admirer, but I could tell he was wildly curious. And I was okay with that.
Taking both bouquets from Colin, I put them in separate, but equal, vases. He watched me. Then he began to talk. And talk. And talk. It was a heartfelt, verbal vomit of extraordinary proportions. Perhaps he’d sought advice from Clementia, Roman Goddess of forgiveness and mercy. Whoever he chatted with, there were more tender apologies than a girl could ever dream of.
Finally, he dribbled out a courageous last plea for absolution and softly said, “That’s a wrap, babe.”
Long pause. He was waiting.
“I don’t know what to say. It’s so unexpected. I need to absorb this.”
“I understand,” he said respectfully. He came over, took my hand and whispered, “Maybe you’d have dinner with me? Casual.”
Oh, Colin. “All right, but just because I’ll dine with you, doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you.”
“Yeah, but you’re thinking about it.” He did that tilt and lift thing again, and away he went.
Time heals all things, or so they say. All things except maybe trust. I knew I could forgive this repentant tail-twirler I was once in love with. But truthfully, I didn’t know how to trust him again. Trust. It’s a very good thing and a hard thing to come by, let alone regain.
TRUST
to be continued...
to be continued...
