Those Times

He remembered glancing at his watch, thinking himself rude.  What he couldn't explain is that he wasn't in a hurry...rather he wanted to remember this moment, this hour and minute, like some string of lucky numbers...fortune cookie numbers...that found him with her at this exact moment.  In time.

He could remember the first time he saw her...the glance...askew.  He was driving down the street in a nearby neighborhood, slow and summery...a lazy hot afternoon...she had pulled a chair out onto her small front porch...incongruous with its presence, like her front lawn had suddenly transformed into a pool...anyways she was there with big dark sunglasses on...Jackie Onassis-sized...like a 50's starlet...casually relaxing in her front yard.  He looked at the dashboard and it said it was 12:11 in the afternoon.  Her street ended in a cul-de-sac so he made the slow looping turn to head back towards the entrance...she was now outside the passenger side window and he remembers her regarding him as he passed, her head slightly tracking his approach and the barely perceptible turn of her as he proceeded by...like the small barely tracking adjustment of a periscope...she regarded him.  In time.

There were neighborhood parties from time to time...the spill of children across lawns and the curbs, the neighbors moving freely from house to house...the driveways were where most of the cooking was happening, bar-bbq, steaks and hot dogs...men gathering like a perfect movie-set.  He was new, and had been a bit extravagant...while the festivities were supposed to start at five pm he was ready at 4....glancing out his window to see if the party had started yet.

Finally at 5:05pm he went out, a clutch of steaks still in butcher paper in his hands...some newspaper wrapped flowers and a good bottle of bourbon finishing his load.  It was still humid out but he wore jeans...first impressions and all.  He strode purposefully, past a myriad of driveways until he was near where he thought she might be.  Some man was in the driveway, starting up charcoal and talking with a clutch of other guys and he barely glanced at him.  He kept walking, thinking maybe he had misjudged his geography. 

She came out as he was looking down the street, wondering if he had wandered too far...he felt like she might have been staring but that was just mostly a hope that he had.  Instead she was taking something out to the man in the driveway...it looked like a lighter and he turned towards her.  She was walking back in the house, no sunglasses on...and she stopped.

Well hello she said, walking towards him.

hello he said, arms full of bourbon and flowers and steak.  He couldn't extend his hand so he sort of shrugged in greeting, feeling like an idiot.

Are you new here?  Not rude, but rather southern...hospitable.  She had a delicious low twang...not like Texas or Alabama...just what he imagined if somebody had to circle a place on a map and write Southern underneath it.

Uhm, yes...well at least to this neighborhood...but I've lived here a bit.  

She regarded him.  In time.  He felt it was a minute but mostly it was probably 9 seconds.

And flowers?

Well, he started....I wasn't sure if there was a host or hostess...you know, like a neighborhood designee...so...I sort of came prepared.

She nodded...I'll tell you what.  I'll take the flowers because I like those...why don't you come inside and you can use our fridge.  She reached out and took the clutch of flowers and turned, walking back towards her front door.  She turned back once, glancing back at him...he remembered the sun was low in the trees, and it was a gauzy light, and he could smell lighter fluid and the afternoon...but he also remembered the angle of her cheekbones...and the jean shorts she was wearing...her barefoot feet and her opal colored toes...her hair woven into a ponytail that sashayed as she walked...a tight white tee...she threw him a little smile and walked into her house, leaving the door open.

He followed.

Inside it was air-conditioned and clean...she had proceeded into the kitchen, already making noise with cupboards looking clearly for something.  He sort of paused, in the hallway...almost into the kitchen.   

She suddenly appeared, flowers in a glass crystal vase, already with water. 

It was 6:13 on the clock behind her.  Another hour to sunset.

I'm sorry I stole these from you, she nodded at the flowers, turning and putting them on her kitchen table.

Well I think they're rightfully yours...you're being quite the hostess.

Well, I appreciate it...it's always good to meet the new folks...she said folks with such a sound that he knew that it was an all encompassing term...man, woman...people. 

She gave her name, and he gave his.  He still had his hands full.

So what else have you got there?  

Well, I brought a couple of NY strips...some from that butcher in the Plains...thick cut and wet aged...and holding up the bottle I had some George T Stagg antique bourbon that I've been dying to try.   Just needed the right occasion.  The right time.

For the first time she really turned to him, facing him.  Her arms were across her chest...her nose pink with sunburn.  She had the makings of a model's face with just a hint of make up...she was confident but she downplayed herself...she was a mom and a neighbor.  But in that bit of seconds she was all woman.  At least that was what was blaring in his mind.

Finally she nodded.  She reached out and took the butcher wrapped steaks.  Let me put these in the fridge and let's agree to have the bourbon later.  She put the steaks away and then said I gotta go check on some things.  He looked at her absent portion in the kitchen...it was almost 6:20pm

And still almost an hour to sunset.

Over the course of the next few hours the sun set and the coals were lit...more people came out and soon they were just shadows and conversations...he talked to few of the men, mostly about work and sports...he played soccer with one of the teenage girls just passing the ball back and forth.  He remembered once looking up and she was on her porch...he couldn't see her clearly, the evening cloaking everybody like kids on a dance floor, hidden by lights, but he thought he could feel her.  Feel her watching.  In time.

He never knew what happened to the steaks, rather gorging himself on hamburgers and hotdogs...but as the kids started to dissipate, due to the later hour, he noticed the crowd thinning....the orange glow still emitting from the grills on driveways...but now it was little huddles of people.  Folks, as she might have called them.

It was 1030pm...the evening pretty much spent.  The music had been turned down...couples were returning to their homes, shouting goodbyes over their shoulders.  He felt like he did in the very beginning, very much apart.

I think it's time we opened up your bourbon.  He heard her voice, saw her white tee shirt...couldn't see her eyes or her opal colored toes.  He thought he could detect a lotion, like a lavender but he didn't know for sure. 

Sure...yeah I could have one before going.

Well good...so here you go.  She thrust a glass at him, two fingers of a pour in a heavy crystal glass.  Neat.  I figured somebody with that type of bottle probably drank it without any ice...she swirled her own glass, clunky with ice.  I'm sorry, I have to mix mine with ice.

He nodded...no worries...and thank you for the drink.  He held his glass out to her...she paused, kind of looked around and touched hers barely to his.  cheers, she said.

He heard her name being called and she turned slightly towards it.  I have to go now, she said. 

I know....he downed the liquor in a single gulp, the gorgeous nectar burning its way down his throat, the way the sun had burnt through the afternoon, the way her voice burnt the air between them...he finished it and handed her the glass, again thanking her and turned back towards his own beckoning home.

He looked at his watch.  It was 1040pm.