By Proxy(39)
Paul had been like a brother to her for years, for as long as she had known him, comforting her after her mother’s passing, joining her family for Sunday supper more times than she could count, leading the PTA meetings that she attended faithfully. For heaven’s sake, how long had he harbored romantic feelings for her?
She pictured him in her mind. He was handsome, yes, but not her type at all. Kissing Paul would be like kissing my brothers. Now, kissing Sam would be a different thing—
Whoa, Jenny! Her eyes flew opened as she halted her thoughts mid-stream. Where did that come from? Kissing Sam? That is not something that should be on your mind.
She walked into her bedroom, determined to distract herself from such bold ideas. She wanted to find something to wear to the Stroll, but rummaging through her closet, she couldn’t banish the fantasy of Sam’s mouth lightly touching hers, feather soft, searching. Her pulse sped up and she gave up the fight, sitting on her bed, touching her lips softly with her fingers, succumbing to the dream in her head. What would it feel like?
The boy she had kissed in college was eager but impatient. He had pressed his lips to hers gently several times on their third and fourth dates, which felt exciting and interesting. Suddenly, on their fifth date, out of nowhere, he had shoved his tongue between her lips and snatched one of her breasts in an aggressive way that had frightened her. She had pushed him away roughly and when he moved in to touch her again, she had placed her hands firmly on his shoulders and brought her knee up sharply to his groin with a swift, incapacitating thrust. He had fallen to the floor, clutching at his man-parts, cursing her every which way from last Sunday.
That had been quite enough for Jenny. She was only too glad not to pursue another romance and had kept men at a careful distance ever since.
Yet here was Sam. Sam, who cheerfully stayed the weekend in Gardiner and treated her so gently, so teasing and merry. Forgiving of her impetuous fit of pique this morning and assuring her he wasn’t committed to anyone. Hadn’t she done the same when she found him moping on the bench by the football field? Assured him she had no interest in Paul. Assured him she was free.
The heart wants what the heart wants. Beyond common sense. Beyond higher reason. Beyond all material and emotional considerations that should make the heart give up its longing. The heart still wants what the heart wants, in spite of everything and in spite of the distance between Chicago and Gardiner. In miles, in opportunity, in lifestyle, in every area of life that Jenny could imagine, in spite of everything, Jenny’s heart wanted Sam.
***
Jenny was ready.
Sam said he needed a “date” for the Stroll and that’s exactly what Jenny intended to deliver. Not a companion or a tour guide, but a date. She decided to leave her regular jeans and boots at home and took out her black velvet jeans, a luxury she had purchased once at the mall in Great Falls and barely ever had the chance to wear. She paired these pants with a cream silk blouse she had worn on her job interviews three years ago and a cream-colored angora cardigan sweater with tiny cubic zirconia buttons, another purchase from her Great Falls days. She dug through her closet until she found a pair of black velvet ballet flats she had purchased to wear with the pants. Dusty from years of neglect, she swatted them against each other until the dust settled elsewhere. She knew they were a silly choice for cold, possibly icy, streets. But the sidewalks should be clear and anyway…it was one night. She wanted it to be special.
In her modest jewelry box she found her mother’s crystal earbobs, her father’s twenty-fifth anniversary gift to her mother, and decided to wear them. She had never worn them before, but the crystal in the earrings would catch the crystal in the sweater. It was Christmastime, after all. Why not sparkle a little?
She laid her clothes out on her bed, smiling at them with anticipation and took a long, hot shower. She washed and blow-dried her hair until it was straight and shiny, then she searched her bathroom vanity for her tiny make-up case. Once she had blown off at least two years of dust from the zipper, she opened it up and applied a bit of mascara, a hint of eye shadow, and some pale pink lip-gloss. She put on her clothes, brushed her hair and added the earrings last. Then she looked in the mirror.
She beamed.
The jeans had always looked good, but she had lost a few pounds between the years she spent in college and the years she lived in Gardiner, so the waist fit perfectly now. The cream of the blouse and sweater matched her hair, and she was right about the crystals—the buttons on the sweater caught her eye, and she followed them all the way up to her ears.
Her reflection was a revelation. She still looked like herself, only better, sleeker, more sophisticated. She could definitely pass for a girl from Great Falls tonight, if not somewhere even more cosmopolitan. She blushed at her conceited thoughts and remembered Pepper in her gowns and designer labels.