lowest step they were about the same height, she put her hands on his shoulders and pulled him to her, planting a soft, gentle kiss on his lips, to the surprise of both ladies.
“Thank you for the flowers, can’t remember the last time somebody brought me flowers. Caroline would you please put these in some water for me until I get back?” she asked, taking the bouquet from Seymour’s hand and giving them to the nosey landlord. “Seymour, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Muir and the owner of this fine establishment, Ms. Caroline Carmichael.” Pleasantries were exchanged as the older ladies made a fuss over the flowers and the young couple.
“I think this is supposed to pin on your shirt or something,” he said, holding up the dainty little corsage.
“It’s just so beautiful, Seymour. Would you pin it on me? It’s too awkward to do on myself,” she said, moving toward him and pulling her hair away from the area above her left breast to give him a better shot.
He held the flowers in his left, angling in for just the right location and directed, holding the long, thick pin with the other. Seymour had never pinned a corsage before, so he felt somewhat out of place, especially with the older women watching. He made several attempts, his fingers lightly touching the top of her breast and bra, causing him to pull back and come at it from a different direction.
After about the sixth try Mrs. Muir piped up, “My heavens this is painful, give me that.” And she took the corsage and pin from Seymour as he backed away giving her room. With a swift and adept couple of movements the corsage sat beautifully pinned atop Blanche’s chest.
“Doesn’t she just look stunning, the way that flower highlights her hair?” Caroline said.
“Yes, she sure does,” Seymour was quick to answer.
With the awkwardness behind them, they headed for the door, “Thanks ladies.”
“You’re welcome, have fun tonight,” Mrs. Muir said.
“Have her home early young man,” the stricter Caroline chimed in.
“Don’t wait up for me,” Blanche said, over her shoulder with a careful wink and nod in their direction.
“Seymour, you didn’t have to buy me flowers, I know things are tight for you and your family.”
“I’ll just go without lunch for a few days,” he joked.
“Well it was very sweet of you, thanks again.”
“It was my pleasure, was worth it just to see the look on your face. I’ll have that etched on my mind for awhile,” he said, pulling the door open of the 1996 Ford Pickup. “Hope you don’t mind, my mom’s car is in the shop and it was either the work truck or my old motorcycle.”
“It’s fine, you forget I’m originally from Utah.”
“I tried my best to clean it up but there are still some seeds and small stuff I couldn’t manage to get out, but at least it shouldn’t get your clothes dirty,” he apologetically said.
“So, where we headed? This is all just a mystery to me tonight,” she excitedly inquired, enjoying the time together more than she had thought she might.
“Strange that you should use that word, ‘mystery’, thought that could be kind of the theme of this first date,” he said, looking for approval from his date.
“You’re driving. Sounds like fun.”
They drove for a few minutes down some of the streets of Valdosta that she was not familiar with. She thought she recognized a few places from her condo hunting expeditions with Bev, but by the time they pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant, she was quite lost and directionally confused.
“The Passage to India,” Seymour said, pointing to a sign over a very well lit and sparkling frontage area. “Hope you like Indian food, this is the best in town.”
“Well I don’t know if I do or not, never had it, but I’m up for the adventure. Lead the way.”
The restaurant was tastefully decorated and quite busy with every table occupied and people waiting in the entryway. Seymour approached the young lady working the small, chest high desk in the foyer, leaned over and whispered something in her ear. Blanche couldn’t make out what was said but the girl nodded, obviously understanding what he was talking about, and motioned for one of the hostesses to come to the front area.
“This is the couple that I was telling you about before we opened tonight, remember?” the young lady said to the even younger hostess. “Are we ready for them?”
“They are just finishing up with the table, so give me a minute and I’ll come and get them.”
Addressing Seymour and Blanche the girl said, “Please just stand aside for a minute and the hostess will be back and take you to your table.”
“Thanks,” Seymour said, taking Blanche by the arm and leading her out of the way of the other customers.
“What have you got up your sleeve, you sly dog?” she asked.
“Nothing, just a little dinner with my favorite boss.”
A moment later, the same young hostess returned and ushered the couple to an area toward the back of the establishment. Multi-colored veils of fabric were draped from the center of a private room, reaching to the corners, creating a tent like effect. On the floor was a knee high table with two dozen pillows of different shapes, sizes and textures scattered about on the floor, a Persian carpet underlying the comfortable setting. The atmosphere was instantly warm and inviting, soft Indian music playing in the background and a personal waiter stood at attention, with a linen napkin over his arm, and a tray holding chilled water glasses in his hand. An amazing gold centerpiece provided the only light to the room, as several candles flickered and danced, projecting shadows against the tented backdrop. The scent of curry tantalized their palates.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I think you’re crazy,” she replied, waving her hand around and pointing at the unexpected surroundings. “How did you manage all this?”
“Let’s just say I’m not without connections,” he whispered, as if the information was top secret.
The dinner was incredible. Blanche had never enjoyed a meal or a 'first date' conversation so much in her entire life. The service from each of the staff had been top notch, taking care of their every need, almost anticipating what they wanted before they asked. The only down side to the evening, thus far, was the tightness in her waistline. The couple talked about all kinds of things, from their youth, to the things they had in common, and their jobs at the library.
“So Seymour, tell me about the suit and shoes. I get the feeling there's a story there, would you share it with me?” she said, smiling.
His demeanor suddenly became very serious and she could tell she had hit a sensitive area. “I, uh, this is something that I don’t talk about very much,” he managed to say, looking down at the candle and the incandescent light it gave off.
“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to bring up anything painful. Let’s talk about something else.”
“That’s okay, I think I’d like you to know; it’s part of who I am. You see, I guess it’s been about five years ago now, my dad got sick real fast with what we thought was a cold. Started out just like most colds with a sore throat and a bad cough, but when the cold went away he didn’t feel much better and the cough just kept getting worse and worse. My momma finally convinced him to see a doctor and by the time he got in, and they did a chest x-ray, it was too late. He had a cancer that spread through both lungs and into his throat. We only had him a short time before God took him and we were left with a farm to run on our own. Those were some tough years,” he said, looking past her and into space.
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Seymour,” she said, placing a caring hand alongside his strong jaw, her thumb lying over his dimple.
“Anyway, the suit. My mom bought this for me to attend my dad’s funeral. Only suit I’ve ever had. Can you tell I’ve grown a little bit since then? Should have had it altered but too much going on and kind of forgot about it till tonight,” he said, leaning his head a bit closer to the warmth of her touch.
“It’s fine, you look wonderful in it.”
“I know the tie looks a little wonky. My mom’s not very good at tying them and this is the best I could do after watching a video on the computer, but it’s not the same when you’re doing it yourself and lookin’ into a mirror. Wish my dad would have had time to teach me to tie one proper like.” A tear ran from his left eye, down his face, and trickled over her fingers.
She used her thumb to wipe the next tear away as it sailed down his cheek.
“Come on, let’s not think of sad things,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading her into the main portion of the restaurant.
