quick note.
As I hand the note and umbrella to Susie, she gives me her best flirty look, which to any other man would be considered sexy. But for me, I find her beauty too obvious. She looks like every other woman I have ever unsuccessfully dated.
“I’m about to lock up for the night. Interested in a nightcap…at my place?” she asks, not so subtly.
Trying to not offend her, I try to think of an excuse quickly. “I would love to, but I already have plans with the guys tonight. Have a nice night, Susie,” I say, hopefully letting her down easily. I am flat out lying, but I still want to be able to come to this bank to see Violet, and I don’t need any extra drama.
“Rain check?” she asks.
I don’t answer. I don’t want to lie or give her false hope. I just smile as I retreat. “Night,” is all I offer, and make a run for it. Not literally.
-4-
Driving to work this morning, I am feeling a little lighter. I must admit, I am exhausted from lack of sleep. My tête-à-tête with Jordan replayed in my head the entire night, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. It also helped that I slept in his coat jacket. A little obsessive maybe, but whatever. Rose is even talking to me a little, albeit curt.
I purposefully get to work earlier than usual because I was so distracted yesterday; I want to make sure I closed out my drawer correctly. Plus, I don’t trust Susie completely. I mean, I have known her for a few years now, and I would consider us “work” friends, but I can see her cattiness come out from time to time with other women, so I just want to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid. The bank is dark and quiet when I enter. I only turn on the lights that I need to take care of my business. I head to my window to drop off my purse and notice that my chair isn’t pushed all the way in. And obviously, I remember how I left my window.
I approach cautiously, as if a wild animal is going to jump out at me. Then I laugh at myself. “Get a grip, Violet,” I say to myself, out loud, knowing there is nobody else here to hear me talking to myself. Can you imagine how much crazier people would think I am? I’m already the weird memory girl to those who know or have heard about me.
Anyway, a few more steps and I’m pulling out my chair to see none other than my umbrella. The widest smile graces my face. That is until I see a little note leaning against it; the corners are still a little wet from how it was left over night. My heart begins to race. I flip open the deposit slip – so cute – to see the craziest chicken scratch. I run my fingers over his words, not reading anything yet, but just soaking it all in. Taking in the fact that he wrote this for me. He left this for me. Susie must have had a shit fit. Excuse my French. I take a deep breath then try to decipher and decode:
Beautiful Violet,
Thank you for your tiny umbrella. (I have to chuckle aloud at that. It is kinda small.)
Have dinner with me Friday.
No excuses.
305-555-0603
Mr. Taylor
Jordan
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! I hold the note to my chest for a few seconds before pure elation hits me and I start to squeal and dance around like a teenage girl who just saw Justin Beiber. Am I really going to do this?
I arrive at the Brewery House a few minutes early, which helps to tamper my obsession with punctuality. Jordan wanted to pick me up, but since we live an hour or so apart, it was easier to pick a place in the middle. Also, this way, if I feel uncomfortable or anything, I know I have an out.
Scanning the parking lot, even though I have no idea what kind of car he drives, I catch a glimpse of him waiting by the entrance way. I am so impressed that he arrived early to meet me. And he looks freaking delicious. He told me to dress casually, so I decided to wear a maxi dress with a green and navy design on it, which hugs my Puerto Rican-mother-given curves perfectly and makes me feel sexy, along
As I hand the note and umbrella to Susie, she gives me her best flirty look, which to any other man would be considered sexy. But for me, I find her beauty too obvious. She looks like every other woman I have ever unsuccessfully dated.
“I’m about to lock up for the night. Interested in a nightcap…at my place?” she asks, not so subtly.
Trying to not offend her, I try to think of an excuse quickly. “I would love to, but I already have plans with the guys tonight. Have a nice night, Susie,” I say, hopefully letting her down easily. I am flat out lying, but I still want to be able to come to this bank to see Violet, and I don’t need any extra drama.
“Rain check?” she asks.
I don’t answer. I don’t want to lie or give her false hope. I just smile as I retreat. “Night,” is all I offer, and make a run for it. Not literally.
-4-
Driving to work this morning, I am feeling a little lighter. I must admit, I am exhausted from lack of sleep. My tête-à-tête with Jordan replayed in my head the entire night, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. It also helped that I slept in his coat jacket. A little obsessive maybe, but whatever. Rose is even talking to me a little, albeit curt.
I purposefully get to work earlier than usual because I was so distracted yesterday; I want to make sure I closed out my drawer correctly. Plus, I don’t trust Susie completely. I mean, I have known her for a few years now, and I would consider us “work” friends, but I can see her cattiness come out from time to time with other women, so I just want to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid. The bank is dark and quiet when I enter. I only turn on the lights that I need to take care of my business. I head to my window to drop off my purse and notice that my chair isn’t pushed all the way in. And obviously, I remember how I left my window.
I approach cautiously, as if a wild animal is going to jump out at me. Then I laugh at myself. “Get a grip, Violet,” I say to myself, out loud, knowing there is nobody else here to hear me talking to myself. Can you imagine how much crazier people would think I am? I’m already the weird memory girl to those who know or have heard about me.
Anyway, a few more steps and I’m pulling out my chair to see none other than my umbrella. The widest smile graces my face. That is until I see a little note leaning against it; the corners are still a little wet from how it was left over night. My heart begins to race. I flip open the deposit slip – so cute – to see the craziest chicken scratch. I run my fingers over his words, not reading anything yet, but just soaking it all in. Taking in the fact that he wrote this for me. He left this for me. Susie must have had a shit fit. Excuse my French. I take a deep breath then try to decipher and decode:
Beautiful Violet,
Thank you for your tiny umbrella. (I have to chuckle aloud at that. It is kinda small.)
Have dinner with me Friday.
No excuses.
305-555-0603
Mr. Taylor
Jordan
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! I hold the note to my chest for a few seconds before pure elation hits me and I start to squeal and dance around like a teenage girl who just saw Justin Beiber. Am I really going to do this?
I arrive at the Brewery House a few minutes early, which helps to tamper my obsession with punctuality. Jordan wanted to pick me up, but since we live an hour or so apart, it was easier to pick a place in the middle. Also, this way, if I feel uncomfortable or anything, I know I have an out.
Scanning the parking lot, even though I have no idea what kind of car he drives, I catch a glimpse of him waiting by the entrance way. I am so impressed that he arrived early to meet me. And he looks freaking delicious. He told me to dress casually, so I decided to wear a maxi dress with a green and navy design on it, which hugs my Puerto Rican-mother-given curves perfectly and makes me feel sexy, along
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