Our First Date

Although Edward never considered this as our first date, it really was...

We exchanged a few e-mails before I gave Edward my phone number. Even with that concession, I warned him not to call me too much as I hate phone conversations. He kept his promise and only called me after he’s gotten permission from me via e-mail first.

Edward was awkward. Yet, he was intelligent, honest, and sweet. We talked about religion and politics the first time we spoke on the phone. Quite surprising actually because I always thought those were the two topics you typically avoid when talking with new acquaintances. However, we quickly learned that we have the same approach to those two subjects, which brought us closer than we imagined.

It took several weeks of phone conversations before Edward had the nerve to ask to meet in person. We were talking about books – things we adored, authors we liked, novels we secretly liked but would never admit. He brought up that an author he knew and I liked was doing a book reading and signing at a local bookshop. Would I like to go with him to the event? It would have been an innocent question if not for the way his voice cracked and the way he fumbled over his words. You see, Edward had a way with words – they flowed out of him so smoothly it sometimes made me feel a bit retarded.

I said yes but that I would meet him there. I still wanted to make sure I had a way out in case I got spooked. Oh, I knew I would like seeing him but I was unsure about my own feeling of inadequacy.

When I got to the bookshop, he was waiting patiently by the Poetry section as we agreed. He was holding a collection of E.B. White poems looking like an angel. I watched while women, young and old, glanced, giggled and pranced around him. Yet, he never noticed. When I approached him and said hello, he did that awkward thing I remembered from the first time we met. He hesitated to hug me, didn’t know if he should shake my hand or whatever. Instead he ran his fingers over his hair, jammed both hands in his pockets, and looked at his shoes. How sweet.

I let him fidget for several seconds. Then, I kissed him on the cheek and said how nice of him to invite me. He finally relaxed and started acting a bit more normally. Normal Edward was a perfect gentleman. He opened doors, escorted me up the stairs with his hand barely touching my elbow, held out a chair, and carried packages.

Even after the book signing was over, I couldn’t find the strength to leave him. We sauntered over to a small deli shop across the street, got some sandwiches and coffee, then found a bench to eat and talk. But, no matter how I wished time would slow down, it got darker and later and colder.

I had to go home. He walked me to my car and asked if he could call me the next day. I said, “I think I would be offended if you didn’t.” He leaned forward to kiss me but hesitated. Edward planted his lips on my cheek instead and lingered there without touching me. I remember thinking he smelled heavenly.

The following day when he called, I told him it was okay for him to ring me whenever he wanted. He never abused that privilege even to the end.