And the funny thing is, I think I actually am.
When I arrive backafter work with dinner in tow, Jimmy is in the shower after working on my house all day. I haven’t been over to see what he’s done. Honestly, I don’t want to know until it’s finished. I’m better off staying away.
After about ten minutes of searching, I find the best looking plates I can in this mess of a kitchen. They are pretty old, white with a faded gold spiral design around the edges. These must be his moms or something because they belong in the seventies. No joke. I am pretty sure I’ve seen these before at my grandparents’ house.
I transfer the food from the to-go containers to the plates. The folding table doesn’t do much for the ambience. I’m not trying to be romantic or anything but if I’m eating Bella Vita I at least want a somewhat presentable place to eat it. This construction zone is not it.
Before Jimmy is out of the shower, I sneak over to my tiny garden and snip a few flowers. They do brighten the area up, sitting in the center of the table. But no. I can’t have the flowers. They give the wrong impression.
I snatch the cup of flowers off the table and toss the blooms in the trash before placing the cup in the sink.
“Were those dead already? They weren’t here when I came home. They couldn’t have died in the short time I was in the shower.”
Jimmy stands in the hallway, a witness to my flower murder. He’s grinning with his hands on his hips. I can’t help but notice he’s somewhat dressed up for dinner. He’s changed from his typical dirty, ripped up work jeans and muted t-shirt to a dark pair of jeans sans holes and dirt and a deep teal polo. His usual messy hair is combed back revealing a faded scar on the upper left corner of his forehead.
“I thought it would brighten up the place. Then I realized you might have allergies, so I figured it was best to throw them away.”
“No allergies here, but I appreciate your concern.”
My concern. Great. Now he thinks I care about him. Sure, as a human being, I hope he doesn’t die or anything, but as a friend, no thank you.
“It’s no big deal.” I have to shrug this off.
“So, dinner.” He points to the table, pulls out a chair, and sits down. “It looks great. Thanks so much for picking it up.”
“No problem. It’s actually right on the way home from work so it’s not like it’s any trouble.” I don’t want him thinking I made a special trip because I didn’t.
“How was work today?” Jimmy asks as he picks up the glass of wine I’ve poured him.
“Stressful.” I join him in the glass of wine. “On Tuesday I have to meet with a pretty important potential client. I had an issue with my research earlier this week and now I’m completely unprepared.” I’ve spent the past few days chained to my desk trying to salvage the work I put into this.
“Who is the important client? Denzel Washington? Betty White? Aaron Rodgers?”
“None of those people have anything to do with the work I do. I work at an art gallery. Unless Aaron Rodgers is trading in the football for a paintbrush, I don’t think I’ll be meeting with him anytime soon.”
Jimmy snaps his fingers. “Darn. If he ever does, be sure to let me know. So who is it, then? All the artists I know are dead. I don’t think you’re meeting with daVinci or Van Gogh.”
“I wish, but no. There’s a local artist, Alvin Hamilton, and I think he’d bring a lot to the gallery.”
Jimmy coughs as he laughs. “Sorry.” He punches himself in the chest. “I almost choked there. Alvin Hamilton? What kind of a name is that? Am I picturing a chipmunk in a red sweater or a founding father, or maybe a mash-up of the two?”
“Neither. Think Eddie Vedder meets Moira Rose.”
Jimmy closes his eyes for a moment. “I can’t. That’s too odd a combination.”
“He also thinks he’s royalty. Quite the cocky guy.”
“Even cockier than me?” He raises an eyebrow and presses a hand to his chest.
“Who would’ve thought it possible?”
We laugh in unison. My guard is weakening slightly as we eat. And the wine is helping it along. Dare I say I am beginning to enjoy Jimmy’s company.
“So, art, huh? How did you get into that?”
That’s a question I haven’t had to answer since I started job hunting out of college. “I’ve always loved art. I dabble in drawing when I can and appreciate fantastic art when I see it. I earned my art history degree from UW-Madison. Through the years I worked at some smaller galleries. I happened upon the place I work now because an old instructor contacted me and recommended me for the position. The rest, as they say, is history.”
“Hm. I guess they do. So you like working with jerks like Alvin Hamilton?”
