“You can only do what you can, Paula,” her mother always told her. “Besides, your father is well established back home, and he and his brothers are all doing well. Live your life. Stop feeling guilty for your blessings.” But she had felt guilty. Guilty that life for her was one without much struggle, and she cherished the freedom she had, as a woman, not having to face being married off as soon as she came of age. Although she struggled with that freedom, because her mother thought it was wrong. Everyone expected her to marry and she hadn't succeeded yet. In truth, she hadn't had as much interest in it as she should.
Thankfully, she had come to terms with what she could and couldn’t do for others, and over the years the requests had slowed to a trickle. Her status as an unmarried woman, however, continued to be a sore spot.
They chatted some more then she saw something in Conrad’s jacket move. At first she was certain she was hallucinating.
“Why would anything be moving under his coat?”
she wondered, sure it had been the trick of the light. But then she saw it again.
“What's that?” she asked.
Conrad glanced down at his plate. “Vegetable roti. Want some?”
Paula shook her head.”No, not what are you eating, what's under your jacket?”
He blinked. “My jacket?”
“Yes.” Paula leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I saw something move.” She pointed and her voice cracked when she spoke. “It did it again!”
Conrad glanced down then swore. “I forgot I put her in there.”
Paula widened her eyes. “Put what in where? Please don't tell me it's an animal.”
He flashed a sheepish grin.
“A rat?”
“No, I wouldn't do that.”
“Then what is it?”
“My kitten. I was going to drop her off at my brother's but then I saw the lady with the flat tire and helped her. Then when I got back in the car Wispy, that's her name because she's just a wisp of a thing, was crying so I put her inside my coat pocket because that always calms her down then I completely forgot about her and drove straight here.”
“Well, she's obviously woken up.”
He gently patted the lump inside his jacket pocket. “Don't worry she'll go back to sleep.”
“Are you serious?”
“Don't believe me? Don't worry she's harmless.” He opened his coat pocket and a little gray head with large green eyes popped out and stared at her.
“Then what did you do?” Paula's Aunt Miriam asked the next day as the two ate from a large bag of kale chips while Paula helped her aunt organize her bookkeeping. Her aunt ran a small shop and Paula helped her keep it profitable. They sat in Paula's apartment and Paula always enjoyed spending time with her.
But as she reviewed the calculations, her mood dimmed. “She's still skimming money.”
Her aunt shrugged. She knew her daughter wasn't trustworthy, but didn't care. “As long as it remains small who cares?”
“I do. I have to talk to her.”
“Leave it. Now you haven't answered my question.”
“About what?” Paula said absently, making more calculations.
Miriam snatched the calculator from her. “The kitten.”
“Oh. He went back to eating as if nothing had happened.”
“So, are you going to see him again?”
Paula stared at her aunt. She considered her a trusted confidant, but now wondered if she'd made a mistake. Her aunt was an attractive woman who'd been a stunner in her youth. She'd married twice--marriages which she called heaven and hell. Her first husband had died in a car accident. After she became a widow for the second time, in her late fifties, when her second husband died from prostate cancer, she decided against remarrying. She was one of Paula's strongest critics when it came to the men she went out with, so Paula was surprised by her aunt's question. She'd expected a tart dismissal of her blind date.
“Did you or did you not just hear a word I said? He's clumsy, he's strange. He plays the tuba for goodness sakes.”
“Musicians are sexy.”
“Not this one.”
“But it sounded like you enjoyed yourself.”
“I did,” Paula admitted, surprised by how much she had. She sat back and smiled. “I mean, he has a great sense of humor and is really easy to talk to.” She reached for the calculator; her aunt moved it out of reach. “But he's just not my type,” she insisted, ready to change the subject. “I doubt I'm his type either. I don't expect him to call me.” She held out her hand.
Her aunt handed her the calculator like a petulant child. “Pity, he sounded interesting.”
“Weird.”
Her aunt waved a kale chip at her. “He's better than Baloney.”
“His name was Bennett.”
Her aunt bit into the chip. “My name suits him better.”
“You think everyone's better than Bennett.”
“I was right.”
“You were biased.”
“He was no good, right? Admit it.”
Paula made a face then munched on her snack. She remembered first describing Bennett to her aunt and all the excited feeling she'd felt then.
“Run fast,” her aunt had said in a flat tone.
“I don't want to,” Paula replied. “He's amazing. He's a chef and starting his own restaurant. There's already a buzz around him.”
Aunt Miriam sniffed. “Like vultures circling something dead.”
“He's funny, attractive--”
“Looks aren't everything.”
“So everyone says, but they're wrong. It helps.”
Aunt Miriam shook her head. “You'll get bored with him.”
“No, he's exciting and driven.”
But she'd been right. Paula had gotten bored and the restaurant closed within a year due to poor management. Bennett talked a good game but could never follow through. He bought a food truck, but then lost interest, later he opened a corner store, which was also a flop. He had what he deemed an “artistic temperament,” which she soon discovered really meant swinging between pouting lows and raging tantrum highs. He'd sounded so perfect--charming, handsome, daring--but seemed to be more suited for a fairy-tale than a real life. In reality he was a bore. Their conversations never went beyond how talented and smart he was and how unfair the world was to him.
After Bennet she'd fallen for Edwin, a successful businessman by way of Cameroon. He was different. He wasn't a dreamer and was more down to earth. He was ambitious, handsome and cultured. Everything her mother expected her to look for in a man.
“Another bore,” her aunt had told Paula after meeting him.
“What do you mean another bore?”
“I mean another pretty sounding man who will certainly not translate into a long happy relationship.”
“He's attractive, successful--”
“All flash and no substance.”
Paula rolled her eyes. “You've met him only once.”
“That's all I needed. Actually, more than I needed. I know men. I married two, remember?”
“Yes, heaven and hell. When will you tell me exactly what that means?”
“Isn't it obvious?”
“I liked Uncle Jules.”
“So did everyone else.”
“I hardly remember Uncle Wale,” Paula said, referring to her aunt's first husband. She remembered a quiet man who smelled like nutmeg and gave great hugs. Uncle Jules was funny and lively and wore expensive cologne. “What was the difference? Why was Uncle Wale heaven and Uncle Jules hell?”
“You'll figure it out one day,” Aunt Miriam said in a cryptic tone.
“Edwin loves me.”
“Really? How do you know?”
“He tells me all the time.”
Aunt Miriam shook her head. “If he has to keep telling you he doesn't mean it.”
“I don't believe that. Some men are more verbal than others.”
“You think you're lucky. But instead you should think he's lucky.”
“You're playing with words.”
“And you're not listening to me.”
Paula didn't listen because she didn't want to. What her aunt was saying sounded silly. Why should she worry about a man being lucky to have her? Or, how many times he told her he loved her? She had been convinced that it was only because her aunt thought she was the moon and the stars that she thought men should feel the same way about her. But from her experience, Paula knew men didn't think that way.
At least Edwin hadn’t. Her aunt had been right again. He was all flash and soon the shine wore thin. He never cared what she had to say or how her day had been. No matter how much she'd dressed up, it was never good enough for him.
Like a film stuck in a loop, his criticisms were always the same: “Are you going to wear that?” “Don’t you have something better to wear?'' “I don’t like your hair that way.” She'd stayed with him because her mother had been impressed, and she'd been flattered by how often people said they looked good together. But after nine months of dating, Paula discovered she wasn't the polished image he wanted to display. He quickly replaced her with his newly-hired personal assistant.
Which was why she'd accepted the blind date with Conrad; she'd stopped trusting herself. She’d never gone on blind dates before because she didn't trust other people to select the right person for her. People underestimated her. They saw an attractive woman with a lot of degrees and success and assumed she was either frigid or high maintenance. But that was far from the truth. She liked science fiction movies and rock climbing. She liked to go kayaking and party all night in clubs. But now that she was past thirty-five, suddenly her lifestyle was unacceptable. Friends worried for her because she'd never married and they were convinced that it was better to be divorced than never to have been married.
Her family felt the same way. Her two brothers and one sister were married, and her youngest sister was engaged. And she was only nineteen!
“Why is it better to marry and divorce?” she'd once asked her aunt.
“Because men will think there's something wrong with you if you’ve never been married.”
“Why can't it be that I'm choosy?”
“It's the law of nature. We as humans only like what other people like, and society says a woman should be married, or at least have tried. So, even if it's a bad match just find someone or you'll end up alone.”
And she didn't want that. Even though the thought of settling down with just anyone made her cringe. But it had been the catalyst to agree to Tamara's pestering about the blind date. At first she'd been irritated by her friend's selection. She'd expected better. Didn't her best friend know they weren't right for each other? But the more Paula thought about her meeting with Conrad, the more she began to reconsider. Their conversation had been smooth and, if she was honest, she knew she liked him. Unfortunately, there had been no spark. No passionate chemistry and he didn’t have the look.
“No, he won't call me and I'm fine with that,” Paula said, no longer sure if she believed it.
***
But she was wrong. A week later Conrad called and asked her out to a comedy club, and to her surprise she heard herself quickly saying yes. This time there were no spilled glasses or secret kittens. Instead they spent the evening enjoying a playful banter with the comedian, who heckled Conrad about his large size and clothes. “I think I saw that jacket before on the original version of the
Incredible Hulk
.” The crowd laughed and Conrad took no offense and Paula felt relaxed. He was confident and didn't take himself too seriously. He was comfortable in his skin. Yes, he could be awkward at times, but she found it more endearing than annoying. As they walked back to his car, she shivered at the chilly evening wishing she'd brought something warmer to wear. Conrad took off his coat and handed it to her. It was his gray tweed jacket and it still had the smudge near the hem. She'd rather freeze than be caught wearing it so she offered him a smile and said she was okay.
Although she rejected this offer, Paula found herself saying yes to trips to the museum, bicycle riding, movies, and outdoor concerts. But there were still differences between them that she had to address. Like his clothes. He wasn't a great dresser and if she wanted to introduce him to anyone he had to present himself well.
“I have a networking event coming up and I need a date,” she told him one day after they'd had lunch. “But first I need to know if you have a suit.”
“Of course I have a suit.”
“I want to see it.” Minutes later she stood in front of his closet and frowned. His kitten Wispy kept brushing up against her leg and purring. She glanced down at her, curious. “Why does she keep doing that?”
“Because she likes you. Give her a quick pat and she'll stop.”
“Oh.” Paula bent and awkwardly stroked the kitten. She'd never had pets and had never been interested but had to admit it was cute. However, she had come to his house for a reason. She straightened and looked at his clothes again. The suit was awful. She lifted a sleeve then released it as if it were crawling with ants. “Where did you get this?”
“It's tailor made. All my suits are because of my size.”
She turned to him surprised. “Really?”
He nodded.
She lifted the suit to make sure. It looked off the rack but she could see some minor alterations had been made. However it was not superior quality. “How much did you pay?” When he told her the amount she swore. He was being ripped off. His tailor had been gleefully stealing money from him for years. Conrad was too nice and trusting. She tossed the suit on the bed in disgust. “Do you still have the receipt?”
“Uh...yes.”
“Get it.”
“Why?”
“We're getting you a refund.”
***
When she met Mr. Stewart, the tailor, she expected a beady little man with clammy hands. He was nothing of the sort. Instead he had an engaging grin and warm, firm handshake. She wasn't fooled. She handed him the suit. “There's been an error. He wants the suit for which you charged him. Not this poor imitation. And yes, please argue with me on this. I'm in a bad mood and will enjoy making your life miserable. No, don't look at him, look at me. You charged him for cloth you didn't provide, a stitch you didn't do and I could go on, but I'll save that for my lawyer.”
“Lawyer? There's no need for that. It's just a simple misunderstanding.”