Reed stood at the Residence Inn front entrance awaiting my arrival. He waved when he saw my car and greeted me with a big smile. 

Thank goodness he has teeth, I thought. Things could be worse. The scene reminded me of when I used to pick up my daughter from elementary school. Reed looked so pleased to see me as she had, standing there with his work satchel. All that was missing was a Super-Heroes lunchbox. 

I was still uncomfortable. I wondered if the internet really went down, or if this was a ploy to get into my house. I should have called the Residence Inn to confirm.  But there I was, about to bring him to my home—the one thing I promised myself I wouldn’t do. 

Looking him over, I thought he might be wearing the same clothes from the previous day. The same, brown, scuffed orthopedic shoes. Identical washed-out beige, elastic-waistband cargo pants, and a similar washed-out brown tee shirt. I thought that a collared shirt and a decent pair of jeans might have been more appropriate. Granted, he was working. But he also was supposed to be making an impression. That he was, but it wasn’t a good one.

 On the ride to my home, he was chatty. 

“I have a surprise for you,” he said. “I bought something I think you’ll really like.”

“Oh,” I replied. “What?” How could he know what I really like? He doesn’t know me.

“A motorhome,” he proudly announced. “It has a queen-size bed, a bathroom with a sink and shower, and a working kitchen. I’ll show you photos when we get to your house.”

Anyone who knows me knows that the last thing I’d want is a motorhome. Maybe those vehicles turn him on, but they don’t do anything for me.  As Reed excitedly described this tin can on wheels, for which he must have paid a boatload of money, I tried to think of a kind way to inform him that he was talking to the wrong person. Reed was sure I’d love it once I saw it.

“Once I retire, we can drive everywhere—see the entire United States. Canada, too.”  He had it all figured out.  In his mind, he’d found The One. He never considered how I felt. Sure, our phone conversations had been fun and flirty. That led us both to believe that we were on to something big. The idea of someone willing to fly to Connecticut from Colorado was a boost to my ego. He clearly liked my photo. He probably never read my bio. Why should he? He saw what he wanted, and that’s all he needed. But chemistry happens when substances combine and create something new.  I guessed when he met me at the airport, his expectations were satisfied.  For me, it was spontaneous combustion as soon as I saw him. My romantic fantasy blew up in my face.

“I hope you’re not allergic to cats,” I said to Reed, changing the subject. “I have three indoor cats; Alvin, Belle, and Ziggy. There are also three feral cats that hang out in my garage.” 

“Cats are fine,” responded Reed. “I have one. But, she stays outside most of the time.”

Reed set up his laptop on my dining room table and stood his beat-up briefcase/satchel beside it. To his left was a placemat with a bowl of cat food on it.

“What’s this?” he asked, regarding the bowl.

“I can’t put Ziggy’s food on the floor. The dog will eat it. Alvin’s is on a kitchen counter, and Belle eats her food downstairs on my work table.” He seemed okay with my explanation. 

“Want a cup of coffee?” I asked.

Reed looked up from his work and stared at me for a moment. His expression was somewhat surprised.

“That would be nice,” he said. “Thank you.”

His response struck me as odd. Most people say thanks or no thanks—end of story. What was the big deal?

“Did you eat breakfast?” I asked. “I’m making an omelet for myself. I can make one for you if you like.”  Again, the surprised but touched expression. 

“Thank you,” he said. He apparently didn’t have much nurturing in his life. But perhaps, he didn’t deserve it. ”I’d appreciate that,” he said. 

As I made coffee and prepared breakfast, Reed felt comfortable discussing his Zoom meeting.

“I have a Zoom deposition to attend this morning. My aunt, who raised me, passed away in Florida.  She married later in life,  but by that time, I was in the Air Force. She never had kids of her own. The guy she married died a few years ago. Now, his son is claiming my aunt’s estate. It’s a mess.”

I knew Reed’s mother lived in Colorado, as he’d mentioned her in phone conversations. I wondered why an aunt raised him, so I asked.

“Let’s just say that my father was a little heavy-handed,”  Reed responded.  “My mother felt I was safer with my aunt.”

Stories about abuse scare me. I’d never known anyone who’d been in a situation like that. He must have been a messed-up kid. I regarded him for a long moment, then returned to what I’d been doing.

“Hey,” Reed called out to me. I could see him from the kitchen serve-through window.  “Which way to the bathroom?” 

I’d been proactive prior to picking him up and removed all of the small rugs in every lavatory. I didn’t want them to become Jackson Pollack prints. I pointed the way.

As Reed ascended the stairs to the lavatory, Ziggy jumped up onto the table to eat. In doing so, he knocked over Reed’s satchel and items spilled out onto the tabletop. A bottle of pills rolled onto the floor.  I retrieved them to replace everything back onto the table. I looked at the label.

For Erectile Dysfunction……

© Miriam Greenberg, and the blog Love In The Time Of Corona, beginning April 2022 to the Present. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Miriam Greenberg and Love In The Time Of Corona with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.