“You’re no help,” I muttered, glancing back out at the water.Yesterday started out as an absolute disaster, but ended on a high note with Danica agreeing to come over for dinner.For a date.
It had been over twenty years since I’d been on a first date.How did I even do this?
The prickles of unease and worry began to make themselves known in my belly and arms, and around the fringes of my mind.Danica didn’t strike me as the person to judge me for my lack of first date knowledge.And based on some of the things she’d said the other night, it didn’t sound like she’d had too many first dates either.Could we fumble through this together?
“I’ve already made gnocchi, so I can’t do that again,” I said to Portia.“Ravioli?Tortellini?Cannelloni?With ricotta, butternut squash, and spinach?”
Portia opened one eye.
“Si?”
She closed the eye again, and I was pretty sure she nodded.I was going to take her little head movement as a nod anyway.“All right then.Cannelloni stuffed with ricotta, butternut squash, and spinach.I will need to go to the store then.Tiramisu for dessert?”
Portia was making that low, deep breathing sound she always made when she was nearly asleep; she was so relaxed.
“Useless swine,” I said, getting up from my seat and taking my empty coffee cup with me.She followed me, of course, upset that I wasn’t scratching her ears anymore.“Things to do, my pet.”Then we headed out to the barn to go feed the animals, muck the stalls, and check on Midnight and Raven; my encroaching anxiety about tonight’s date long forgotten as I mentally planned the menu for dinner, and ran through my wardrobe and what I could wear.
I liked my peace.I liked my privacy.Being alone didn’t bother me.But Danica’s presence felt better than being by myself.I looked forward to sharing my space and my comfort zones with her.
With her, I didn’t feel anxious or out of control.I felt seen.I felt understood.I felt … comfortable.Which is why I asked her to dinner.Because the last time anybody made me feel this way was when I met Erin, and even though I missed my wife every day, when you meet someone who makes you feel this way, you don’t ignore it.You don’t push it away.You welcome it.You embrace it.And you do everything in your power to hang on to it.
After Portia and I finished with the animals, and we made sure Midnight and Raven were doing well, I sent my pig to bed, hopped in my truck, and headed to the store.
Normally, I didn’t wear a ball cap, but I kept one in my truck for when I had to go out in public.It just kept me a little more hidden.If I could get away with wearing sunglasses inside and not look like a weirdo celebrity, I would.But that seemed like a step too far.
Parking was awful at the Town Center Grocery Store.It seemed that every year, the tourist season started earlier and earlier.In the summer, I waited until thirty minutes before the store closed to do my shopping.By then, most of the tourists had left the island, gone back to their campsites or cabins, and hardly any locals were around either.I could get in and get out without having to stop and make small talk with people.
But I couldn’t do that today.So I tugged my ball cap down low over my eyes, wore the red flannel checkered shirt I kept in the backseat of my truck, and didn’t make eye contact with a soul as I made my way from the overflow parking lot behind the fence, dodged mud puddles, and headed to the front door of the grocery store.The last thing I needed to do was run into Jolene Dandy or that vile woman, Brenda Pickford.It seemed the whole Pickford family was just one bad batch of grapes, not suitable for even grocery store wine.
I was on my way out, ricotta, spinach, and a beautiful little squash in my reusable shopping bag, when I spied the pink and yellow tulips.
There were red and purple ones right beside them, and I smirked at the idea of buying those instead and pretending the store was out of yellow and pink.God forbidSignoraPickford should have garish and whorish flowers at her front door.The angels would certainly smite her.
I grabbed a bucket of yellow and one of pink and paid for them, then ran them to my truck, only to double back with empty arms and buy a bucket of the red and a bucket of the purple as well.
Because something told me, Danica would very much appreciate harlot flowers, and I needed some kind of peace offering if I ended up not liking her family’s wine.
Exhaling a deep breath through my nose as I pulled out of the parking lot, I allowed the peace of no longer being around a bunch of people to ease out of me.
The closer I got to my sanctuary, the calmer I became.Sure, I took anxiety medication every day, but I still felt things.I still felt the sensations of panic, worry, frustration, and fear.I didn’t want to be so medicated that I was numb to life.And even then, the medication didn’t always work.It helped me recover quicker; it helped me hit the pause button so I could get myself somewhere safe, so I could talk myself down, or do some breathing exercises, but it wasn’t a bandage.It was a clotting agent.I would still bleed, just not as heavily.Just not fatally.Just not for as long.
I turned down my driveway and caught a glimpse of the purple and red tulips in the passenger footwell and smiled.But that smile faded faster than my adoration for Piñata, when I saw five vehicles parked in my driveway and people standing along the outside of the fence, petting and trying to get the attention of the horses and donkeys.
I slowed my roll, all sense of peace and calm vanishing from my body like a tofu fart in the wind.They were even parked in my normal parking spot, so I had to adapt and park further away from my own house.Portia knew the sound of my truck engine, so it was no surprise that she came barreling out of the dog door and I nearly tripped over her as I climbed out from behind the steering wheel.
“There’s apig,” someone exclaimed, running toward Portia and me.
Now that I was home, Portia soaked up the attention, her curly tail wagging as she allowed the growing crowd to pet her.
“Is this your place?”a woman with denim overalls and a baggy mustard-yellow cardigan asked.
I nodded.“Why are you here?”
“We came to see all the animals.We had no idea this place even existed on the island.”
Her friend, another woman around the same age—early thirties—and with a red, messy bun on top of her head, came over wearing a baby in a sling on her hip.“Can we go in the barn now?It was locked when we got here.”
“No,” I replied.“This is private property.”
