“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“If I survive the weekend,” she sighs. “Good to see you again Connor.” She hugs him, and he’s slow to return it, a little surprised by her affection, But after a beat, his arms wrap around her, and he says, “You too, Wendy.”
Once we’re outside, and Wendy shuts the door we hear Wendy yell, “Get up Mark. You’re not that big; she couldn’t have done but so much damage.”
Connor’s brows rise, and we both burst out laughing as we make our way to my car.
By the time Monday rolls around, I’m ready to go back to work even if it’s only three days a week for a few hours. The county’s budget is always short and because of that, they can’t afford a full-time staff in the summer for the special needs kids. My work day flies by, and it’s noon before I know it. All of my students have been picked up when Shelly from the front office enters my classroom with a flat, square package.
“You were out last week when this came.”
“What is it?” I ask as she hands me the parcel, which is also surprisingly light.
“I don’t know. Some guy dropped it off. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she calls as she hurries out of the room, eager to leave work for the day.
Tearing open the paper, I realize it’s a painting. It’s a painting of the autism symbol; a multi-colored puzzle piece. I don’t see a note until I turn the painting and find a card taped to the back of the canvas.
My face hurts I’m smiling so big. The painting is lovely, and I decide I’m going to hang it in the classroom. My students will love the bright colors. I can’t deny I’m impressed. This is probably one of the most romantic things anyone has ever done for me. If he delivered this last week, he must think I’ve blown him off. I yank my cell out of my purse and shoot him a text.
Me: The painting is beautiful. Thank you.
A few minutes pass and I check the number to make sure I dialed right. Yes, it’s right. What if he’s not interested anymore?
Vick: I’ve given out a lot of paintings lately. Who is this?
My stomach knots. Does he always do this kind of thing for women he asks out? Should I even respond to this?
Vick: I’m just kidding, Demi. I haven’t stopped thinking about the gorgeous woman I stumbled upon in the grocery store, talking to herself.
I cringe as I remember how crazy I must’ve looked.
Me: You’re hilarious. I fell for it . . . again.
Vick: I like that about you. ;) So . . . meet me for dinner?
Me: Yes. I’d like that.
Vick: Tillie’s, seven o’clock on Wednesday?
Me: See you then.
Vick: Have I mentioned I’m really starting to love this place? ;) See you, Wednesday.
I stay in my classroom for a few more hours, organizing and cleaning. Mostly killing time until four when Wendy wants to meet for happy hour. I know times are tough, and she’s super stressed; with five kids I’m sure she’s busting at the seams to get out of the house. As I drive to Tillie’s to meet Wendy, the thought of going out with a man for the first time since Blake passed runs through my mind. While the idea of it is exciting, there’s also guilt. If Blake were still alive, there’d be no Vick, and there’d be no first date. I’d be on my way home right now to cook us dinner.
At a red light, I pull my cell out and dial Lexi.
“Helloooo, darling,” she answers in a British accent.
“I have a date,” I blurt out. I feel like this little fact has been bottled up inside me ready to burst free at any moment. Lexi is probably the worst person to tell, but she is my sister.
“You do?” The astonishment is extremely evident in her voice. She’s shocked.
“Yes. I met him at the grocery store the other day. His name is Vick.”