Sassafras, Part 17

Joan


I took another drink of my beer, sucked up the last of my cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray, and then looked at Rick again. That was when I saw it. I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it before. Maybe it was the way his face was tilted, or the way he smiled just a little, but I suddenly recognized him, or at least who he reminded me of, and I couldn’t help but laugh. That night was just getting stranger and stranger.

He wanted to know why I was laughing, and I admitted he reminded me of somebody. I didn’t want to tell him who. It was just way too embarrassing. Finally I decided what the hell. It’s not like I hadn’t already embarrassed myself tonight. So I told him he looked like Colonel Hogan. Rick filled my glass up and I leaned back in the booth and started telling him all about the enormous crush I had on Colonel Hogan when I was little.

Having something to talk about helped calm me down. I lit another cigarette and sipped my beer, remembering how much I used to want to go out with Colonel Hogan, how much I wanted him to kiss me like he kissed all those blonde secretaries, and that reminded me of how Rick had kissed me. He even acted like Colonel Hogan, and I realized I liked it. He was confident but not arrogant, attractive but not conceited. When he looked at me I felt like I was somebody special, not just Jenny’s Sister. He made me feel like I was the only person in the room, in the world.

When I mentioned that Colonel Hogan never had a mustache Rick said he would shave his off if I wanted, but I didn’t want him to. I looked at him and remembered how it felt when he kissed me, how his mustache had felt when it brushed against my cheek, how I melted in his arms. I tried to remember if I had ever kissed a man with a mustache before, but couldn't think of anybody else. None of the guys in college had mustaches, and the four or five men in New York I dated didn’t either. I looked at his lips and wanted him to kiss me again. I didn’t care if it was right or not. I reached over and touched his mustache, then leaned up and kissed him.

I don’t know which of us was more surprised. You could hardly really call it a kiss. I barely touched his lips before my nerves caught up with me. I leaned back and felt his arm slide off the back of the booth and onto my shoulder again. He was smiling, and offered to take me on a tour of his tunnels. I laughed and tried to relax, but I could feel my heart racing again, and it felt like my stomach was doing cartwheels. It took a minute to realize what I was feeling wasn’t anxiety or fear or embarrassment. I didn’t want to run away, or hide. I wanted to stay right there, with his arm around me, my hand resting on his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush. I tried to remember my first crush. There had been a boy on my street when I was 14 who I suddenly realized was perfect. His name was Tom, and he was a senior, which to my eyes made him a man. I used to spend hours dreaming about him, imagining our first kiss, what I would say, what he would do, how perfect it would be. I didn’t have to imagine what Rick’s kisses felt like. I didn’t think I would ever be able to forget.

My hair had fallen down again, and I started to reach up and pull it back, but Rick’s hand was already brushing it out of my eyes. I felt the back of his fingers against my cheek, then he lifted my chin and kissed me again. When he kissed me I forgot about everything. I didn’t think at all, I just kissed him, and felt his hand cupping my face, his arm pulling me against him. I could smell his cologne, and tasted the beer still lingering on his tongue. I realized my hand was running through his hair, but I didn’t remember putting it there.

Eventually we stopped, and I curled up next to him, resting my head on his chest. I could still feel a little dampness where I had cried so hard that I felt like I was breaking, but that seemed like another lifetime. I felt him running his hand through my hair, and closed my eyes, listening to his heartbeat. This had to be a dream, I thought. There was no way this was really happening.

I could have stayed like that all night long, but Rick needed to go to the restroom. I think he was worried about me because he made me promise to stay right there. He was probably wondering if I was a little bit crazy the way I had been acting that night, but at least he wanted me to stay.

The waitress came by and asked if I needed anything before the kitchen closed, but I told her everything was fine.

“You and Rick make a cute couple,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said and felt myself start blushing. “You know Rick?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s a regular. He’s been coming here a couple of months. Ever since he got out of Bowling Green and moved here. He comes in here two or three times a week, usually just has a sandwich or something. Sometimes he stays and plays pool for a while. He’s usually alone. It’s nice to see him with somebody for a change.”

“He seems real nice.”

“Oh, he is. If he’d moved here a year ago when I was single I would have been all over him, but too late now,” she said and patted her belly. I hadn’t even realized she was pregnant. “Well, if you need anything you let me know.”

After she left I decided to get up and stretch a little or I was afraid I would fall asleep. That would really impress Rick. When I stood up I had to hold onto the back of the booth for a minute because the room started spinning. I tried to remember how much I had to drink. There was the one beer I bought, the one the bartender gave me, and the one Rick bought, that made three. I’m small, barely 5’ 2”, and 110 pounds. Three beers is pretty much my limit. The pitcher was almost empty, so that was probably three or four more. Thinking about all that beer made me realize I needed to go to the restroom again. When I started to walk I noticed high heels and too much beer were a dangerous combination, so I kicked off my shoes and tottered to the restroom.