The Ride
Nervous as a probieresponding to his first call, I dial Penelope and officially ask her out to dinner.
I wanted her to come over to my place. I could arrange for Kailee to stay with my mom, so that we could have a real, adult conversation, and a great home-cooked meal.
But she shot down that idea pretty quickly. She said we’re moving a little too fast. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Harper. I know you’re a great guy—I really do. It’s just that, well, I still have my rule. And you’re still a fireman.”
Her words hung in the silence.
“Harper?”
I cleared my throat. “But aren’t you already breaking that rule by agreeing to go out with me?”
“No,” she said, calmly. “I’m just bending it.”
She agreed to a date out in public, at a restaurant of her choosing. I am to pick her up on Friday at 7 PM.
This rule of hers could be a problem. Don’t get me wrong, I respect a rule as much as the next guy. And we firefighters have got our fair share of them. You’re not supposed to go after another guy’s sister. I guess Joey forgot about that one when he asked Bethany out. It’s like the saying goes. If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun. Let’s just go with the flow and see where it takes us.
* * *
It isFriday evening and I’m super nervous. Parked outside of Penelope’s home, I’m summoning the courage to knock on her door. It’s been too long since I’ve gone on a date, and I’m not sure what the proper etiquette is these days. I have to start watching more romance shows.
Penelope lives in Hyde Park, a residential neighborhood with lots of trees and old brownstones. The sun’s gone down and the streetlights are on. It’s a dark, still night. If someone walked by, they might not even notice me sitting here in my car like I’m on a stakeout.
There’s vodka and water in a flask in my glove compartment. I haven’t had a single sip yet, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to knock on her door until I do. Right now, the chance of me taking a sip from the flask of encouragement is about fifty-fifty.
Just one gulp. That’s all. I’m not gonna lose control again like I did at the firehouse. That was a totally different situation—I was having a full-blown panic attack and acted out of sheer impulse.
I certainly don’t feel great. With anxiety taking over my body, I fear I will have nothing interesting or funny to say. This date is going to be a disaster.
I need to snap out of this slump. Just talk to her the same way I have at the hospital. C’mon, you can do this. Forget the flask. Get going, soldier.
I step out of the car, walk up the stairs, and knock. When she opens the door, my jaw drops. I’ve never seen a woman this gorgeous.
She looks at me and says, “Are you okay?”
I clear my throat. “H-hi, yes, sorry. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. You’re not too bad looking either. It’s great to see you out of the hospital gown.”
I’m wearing jeans and a plaid button-up shirt, tucked in. Standing next to her, I suddenly feel the need to improve my style.
Penelope is wearing a belted black dress, black lace-up heels, with a pearl choker necklace. Her loose hair gently caresses her shoulders. Her perfume smells different than it did in the hospital. Back then, her scent was like a beach, and this one is more like a field of flowers. It’s invigorating.
“How have you been feeling?” Penelope says as we walk to my truck.
“Much better. I think I’m ready to go back to work on Monday.”
“Just don’t overexert yourself. You’re still in therapy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I like your pickup truck by the way.”
“Oh so you’ve got a thing for men with pickups?”
“Hmm . . . I wouldn’t say that exactly, but I read once that men who drive pickups are family oriented and enjoy fixing things up around the house.”
