Gentle as Spring

Chapter 4: What I Could Say

The second time I saw Theo, the Marlowe's old projector was not ready for use. He had brought a portable one, and we watched a movie on the white sheet the restoration crew had hung across the stage.

I arrived at seven. He had already set out two chairs in the front row and left an empty one between them.

"I didn't know if you'd want a lot of space," he said.

The thoughtfulness made me like him more. It also made me want to put distance between us, because liking him meant I could lose something.

"You can sit closer," I said.

He moved his chair beside mine. No smile, no teasing. He just sat down.

The film was a black-and-white comedy from the forties. I laughed through the first half and missed two jokes in the second because I was thinking about whether our shoulders would touch. They did once, when he reached for his coffee, and neither of us moved away.

Afterward, we walked around the block. The air was cold, and the streetlights reflected on the pavement. He told me about a house he was repairing near the harbor. I told him about my first week at Pairwell, when I'd accidentally sent a client's profile to the wrong recipient.

"I thought I'd be fired," I said.

"Were you?"

"No. Celia made me call both clients and apologize. Then she made me write a new system so it couldn't happen again."

"That sounds fair."

"It was. I hated her for about a day."

"Only a day?"

"I was new. I had a lot to learn."

When we reached my car, he stopped a few feet away.

"I had a good time," he said.

"So did I."

I waited. He waited. The silence stretched without turning unpleasant.

"Do you want to have dinner with me next week?" I asked.

There it was. A simple question, asked at an ordinary curb.

"Yes," Theo said. His smile came slowly. "I'd like that."

I drove home with my hands tight on the wheel. I kept replaying the moment, not because it had been dramatic, but because it had been mine. I had wanted something, asked for it, and survived the answer.

At Pairwell on Monday, Celia asked how the movie went.

"It went well."

"Good."

"That's all you have to say?"

"I can ask more, if you want."

"I don't know what I want."

"You don't have to tell me anything."

I studied her face. "Did you tell him I was nervous?"

"No."

"Did you tell him I haven't dated anyone seriously?"

"No."

"Did you tell him about my score?"

"No."

"Why did you set it up?"

"Because I thought you might like each other. I also thought it might help you remember you're allowed to be a person, not just the person who coaches everyone else." She lowered her voice. "Those are separate things."

I nodded. "Thank you."

She reached for the file on my desk, then paused. "And how are you feeling?"

"Like I might be able to do it again."

She smiled. "That's enough."

*****

Dinner was at a small restaurant near the harbor, where the tables were close together and the menu was written on a chalkboard. Theo told me about his work. I told him about mine. He asked what I liked to do when I wasn't working, and I almost gave him a list of harmless things that sounded busy.

Instead, I said, "I like to watch old movies by myself. I like walking when it's cold. I like to fix things, but I'm bad at it."

"What have you fixed?"

"A lamp. It lasted three days."

"That counts."

"It should not."

"It worked for three days."

I laughed. "You're very generous."

"I'm a carpenter. I'm used to working with things that don't cooperate."

I could have asked whether he was seeing anyone else. I didn't. I could have told him I was attracted to him. I didn't. I did ask him whether he wanted to come with me to the Sunday matinee at the little art house theater.

He said yes.

By then, the invitations had started to feel less like a test and more like small doors I could open myself. I still got nervous. I still found reasons to edit every sentence. But I had begun to understand that my fear didn't have to decide for me.

Then Celia called a staff meeting.

Pairwell's annual donor event was two weeks away. The agency had lost one of its larger contracts, and Celia had been asked to present a new outreach plan to the board. She wanted all of us there to support her.

"I need a few personal success stories," she said. "Nothing identifying. Just examples of what happens when people get out of their own way."

I felt the room tighten around me.

Celia glanced at my side of the table. "Mara, the Marlowe might be a good one. I won't use your name. Only if you're comfortable."

I looked at the notepad in front of me. "What would you say?"

"That you were hesitant to accept an introduction, and that you chose to be open to it."

"But you set it up."

"Yes."

"And Theo knew you were setting it up."

"He did."

"Then what does that prove?"

Celia folded her hands. "That people can connect when they make an effort."

I knew she was trying to help the agency. I also knew I didn't want to become an example before I understood what I was choosing.

"I don't want my date used in the pitch," I said.

"Okay," she replied. "I won't use it."

She moved on to the next item on the agenda. I believed she meant it.