Candlelight and Wine Part 4

Never give a person a piece of your mind when all you
really want to do is give them a piece of your heart.
― Shannon L. Alder

Nathalie and I are snowbound—a freak October blizzard has left us marooned in our offices at the university.

The power is out and our cell phones aren’t working but fortunately Nathalie went shopping and there’s food in her car.

It could be romantic being alone with her, if she cared.

I push the thought out of my mind and take her keys and head out into the storm and bring all the bags inside—including several bottles of wine that include Yellow Tail Cabernet—my favorite.Nathalie’s thinking out loud, because if she’s talking, I’m not listening. I’m on strike—I’ve had it with aloof women.“They say one taper candle alone can give enough heat to keep you alive—I have six pillar candles.”

I roll my eyes. I don’t want to go through this forced socializing—I just want to go home.“Just light two or three," I tell her, "in case they don’t last the night. That should provide enough warmth and heat.”She holds up her empty coffee cup. “Oh dear, I don’t have glasses—just this.”“No problem,” I sigh. I have one discolored slightly crumpled paper cup just like hers back in my office. I retrieve it from my office wastebasket.

She lights the candles while I use a corkscrew tool from my Swiss army knife to open a bottle of Yellow Tail.“Aren’t we resourceful?” she says, eyes dancing.“Well, no big deal on my part,” I say frostily. “I would have just pushed in the cork—but I guess it’s more civilized without fragments of cork in your cup.”“Much more civilized,” she smiles encouragingly.

More romantic too, I muse—candlelight and wine—a jug of wine a loaf of bread and thou. Damn! I’m getting bitter. I’ve got to let go of my resentment.She sets out several different varieties of cheese and breaks a French stick in two.We sit on the carpet and picnic in the candlelight.

Flashes of green lightning waver outside and illumine the windows. She seems anxious.“Are you okay?” I ask.“Sorry—it’s silly. I’ve always been terrified of lighting.”“That’s okay,” I console her, “we all have things we’re afraid of.”“Really? I can’t imagine you being afraid of anything—you seem so poised and self-assured.”

I shake my head sadly. “I wish that were true. I’m kind of a disaster socially.”“It’s hard for me to see you that way—I always figured you the opposite.”Once again common sense deserts me when I most need it. “Actually, I followed you across campus today and was going to ask you to sit with me at lunch, but was afraid of bothering you.”“I wish you had—that would have been nice.”

“I was respecting your space—I mean you always have your office door shut. I figure you’re a private person.”“Not really. I wish I were confident like you. I’m always fearful of strangers—that’s why I keep my office door shut.”“I suppose looks can be deceiving,” I say guiltily.

She has this far-off look in her eyes and says dreamily “I’m so shy—I sometimes notice certain people but am fearful of approaching them, so I have imaginary conversations with them inside my head. That’s crazy isn’t it?”“If it is, I’m crazy too, because I do it all the time.”She looks surprised. “You do?”“Well—only with you,” I croak.

I don’t know why I said it, or how it came out—maybe it was the wine or the atmosphere—the lack of reality, or actuality—but I was emboldened and followed my feelings for probably the first time in my life.I look over at her and her head is bowed.All my bravado and false swagger is gone and I feel as desolate and empty as a crater on the Moon.I’ve gone too far, ruined the moment—made a complete fool of myself.“I’m sorry,” I say.

She lifts her eyes to me. “Why are you sorry? I said the same thing.”“Yeah, but I made it personal.”“I was trying to do that,” she whispers, “but wasn’t as bold as you.”“So you mentally communicate with people in your head?“I don’t do it with just anyone, James—I try to, but mostly do it with you, and I’m always asking your soul why you don’t talk to me.”

My heart’s beating so fast, I feel faint.“Because I’m an idiot,” I sigh.“Join the club,” she smiles.I’m feeling spontaneous for the second time in my life.I lean across and kiss her softly on the lips.