There was an answering smile in Mark's voice. “The
rib eye is sitting between ten and seven. The mushrooms and onions
are under the steak. Potatoes are at one through three. I placed a
steak knife on the table at nine, next to your regular knife. I
moved your wine glass a touch when I put the plate down, and you
will find it at two, a couple of inches from your plate. And, so
you know, there is a glass of water on the table at one,
approximately six inches from the plate.”
“How is my bread situation looking?” I asked. I
couldn't help my widening smile as I imagined Red's ecstasy when I
started dipping bread in steak juices.
Mark's tone was mock solemn, “The bread situation is
looking grim, I'm sad to report. I may have to dump another roll or
two in the basket for you.” He leaned in closer and whispered, “Do
you need a small side of dressing?”
Busted! I laughed but declined the additional
dressing, although I gave a green light on a few extra rolls. I
shared with Mark I’d hoped to be sneakier than I'd obviously been.
Mark chuckled and reassured me he happened to look up from another
table he was serving when he caught me in the act. “You've been
very discreet,” he praised.
Mark wandered away. I tipped my head down toward Red,
“That's twice we've been seen. You need to pay better attention, or
you'll lose your bread privileges until we get home.” I was assured
“stealth mode” was his new catch-phrase.
The rest of the meal progressed without incident
until Red alerted me the man across the room, the one dining with
business associates, had stumbled to his feet and begun a weaving
approach toward our table.
“Incoming.”
Red informed me. He
stood on his feet at my side for the first time since we arrived,
protectively barring the man from standing too close to me.
I cautioned Red to do nothing more than stand in his
way. “No growling or threatening. If I think your teeth are bared
in anything but a polite doggy smile, we will have words. Our
conversation will begin with the phrase, 'So sorry we forgot your
steak doggie bag at the restaurant.' We are in a public place so
there's nothing he can do to hurt me.”
As the man got near, Red told me,
“He smells
wrong.”
He leaned against my leg, as he focused on the man I
suspected was drunk, hence, the “wrong” smell and unsteady walk.
“The Alpha has noticed the other man coming our way. He is in a
dominant posture, watching us,”
Red whispered with a definite
sense of urgency in my mind.
“Hey, lady. Are you, like, famous or something?” a
voice slurred in my direction.
“No,” I replied.
“I think you must be in disc... desg... disguise,
'cuz you're, like, wearing those sunglasses, and the waiter dude is
paying you special attention, like. 'N they let you bring your dog
in here too?” The speech definitely displayed signs of
intoxication.
I could feel him bend closer and I caught a whiff of
his breath. “What's wrong with your face? Oh wow, are those scars?
No wonder you're wearing those glasses.” The words were almost
unintelligible, and the volume of his voice rose with each remark.
Red moved away from my leg and must have shouldered him away.
“Hey,” the guy protested, and I heard a soft thump.
“Red?” I asked, as he fell against my thigh.
“
I got a knee in the side. Can I bite him
now?”
Red whined.
“Here comes the Alpha... and he is not
wearing a polite doggy smile.”
I could hear the approval in
Red's tone. Can dogs chuckle evilly?
I stood up in confusion. “Red, are you hurt?”
“
Sit down, Teresa, it’s okay, I'm fine. The Alpha
grabbed him by the shirt. They have moved to the doorway and are
having a...”
there was a pause, “
conversation.”
There
was a longer pause before Red asked innocently,
“So are balls
what I think they are? And how DO you remove someone's balls
through their throat?”
The satisfaction in Red's tone led me to
believe he was asking rhetorical questions and my dog had a firm
grasp of concept of sarcasm. Ha, as if I had any doubt.
“
Waiter, incoming.”
Red warned seconds before
Mark arrived at the table and began to make a fuss. Oh man, so much
for enjoying a quiet meal (Plan C, crashed and burned). I sat down
as Red had suggested and squirmed uncomfortably as the waiter
fretted.
Yes, I did want the name of the person who accosted
my dog, and the name of the company he was in town to represent
(moments later Mark pressed the man's business card into my
hand).
No, I didn't want to press charges, unless I had to
take my dog to the vet to get x-rays (Red assured me again, he was
fine, only a little sore).
No, it was not necessary to comp my meal. I didn't
hold the restaurant accountable for some drunken jerk's
actions.
And yes, I would love a complimentary dessert, thank
you, Mark. (I felt obligated to accept the latter, as Mark was so
distressed—the lightweight, so easily upset).
The man, or as Red referred to him, Alpha, stopped by
briefly to ask if my dog was okay. He knelt and ran a practiced
hand over Red's ribs before pronouncing my dog fine, and praising
Red's good behavior in a deep, gravelly voice. He solicitously
asked if he could do anything for me. I let Alpha know I was fine
and thanked him politely for his concern and intervention. I hoped
I didn't sound rude or abrupt, but I found I was still upset and
distracted by what happened.
Red told me Alpha returned to his table, and then
informed me the man was VERY interested in me. But, I was done. I
wanted nothing to do with the man who accosted me. I had no
interest in pursuing the man with the wickedly sexy voice who had
stepped in to help us. I asked Mark if he could make the dessert
“to go,” box up my leftover steak, bring me my check, and call me a
cab.
“I'm tired, Red.” I said, after finalizing the credit
card payment. I swiped at a tear escaping the corner of my right
eye, hoping no one noticed. Removing my hair clips, I tilted my
head downward to use the dark strands as a shield to hide my face.
A self-conscious attempt to cover the scars which were evidently
more noticeable than Janey or Ken let on. Love is blind, I thought
to myself, noting the irony.
Mark was kind enough to help me into the sweater coat
I had left with the hostess at my arrival. I flipped up the soft
collar to conceal more of my face. A tidy package of meal remains,
and my purse in one hand, I let Red lead me from the
restaurant.
I had no desire to banter with Mark when he escorted
me past the hostess station to the cab outside. More significantly,
all interest I had in the third drawer of my nightstand died a
quick death. I didn't feel attractive or sexy.
Another tear escaped as I ducked into the back of the
cab. So much had changed in a few hours—well, except one thing.
“I'm lonely, Cat.” I whispered under my breath. Thankfully, Red was
quiet for the trip home.
** Morning, Wednesday – July 9
th
**
I spent a sleepless night bundled up in the window
seat feeling sorry for myself. Nothing is more depressing than a
pity party of one. I had no plan for moving out of my funk, but I
did know I didn't want to ruin Janey and Ken's budding,
whatever—dare I say romance? I pictured them going at it like a
couple of rabbits. Nope, I'm pretty sure they were skipping the
romance and diving headlong into lust. Silly rabbits.
The first thing I did (even before coffee), was toss
the flavored lube. I completely creeped myself out with the idea of
taste tests... not to mention, on further reflection, at what point
does the stuff go bad anyway?
And no, there was no pack of batteries in “The
Drawer.” Although, I DID find one of my silk scarves tied in a
large, loopy bow around Oh-Henry. Yep, Ken was toast. I'd have to
bide my time for the perfect moment. On a positive note, I got a
good laugh over the fact Ken not only man-handled a synthetic
penis, but he went so far as to pick it up in order to tie a bow
around it. That thought, combined with his faux-gaydom, might
somehow figure into my revenge plotting. It was the early days of
Operation Revenge on Ken, but I had years of age and experience
behind me. I would think of something epic.
I admit it. It was a ploy of avoidance on my part. I
left the house the next morning by 10 a.m. I didn't want to deal
with a cheery Ken or, heaven forbid, a cheerier Janey if she
decided to accompany Ken back to the house after a night of
unbridled passion. I made a point of leaving my cell phone on the
kitchen counter, as though I'd forgotten it.
First thing Red and I did was head off to the beauty
salon to get a manicure. As awkward as it was to get around town
without my sight, I had to wonder how much more difficult things
were for someone who had always been blind. I had a set of mental
maps, and so benefitted from a mind's-eye concept of where things
were, what they looked like, and I knew colors. Is it worse to have
been born blind, or to have once been able to see things and have
sight taken away? I suppose it was a matter of perspective. I, for
one, was happy to have once had my sight. I missed many things, but
there was comfort in the fact I had images to hold in my mind.
“Just a clear coat today, Cyndi,” I told my
manicurist, as she placed my fingers in a little dish of something
wet, “and let's cut them all the way down to fingertip length.” Red
asked to stay outside the door, as the chemical smells bothered
him. So, I was alone in my thoughts, barely registering Cyndi's
voice drone on about her daughter... something about goats, a
yellow prom dress, and a tractor. In retrospect, I wish I had paid
better attention. As it was, I puzzled over the trio of items for
the rest of the afternoon wondering how they all entered into the
same conversation. It was the start to a crazy joke, or maybe a
really weird dream: a goat, wearing a yellow dress, rode a tractor
to prom…
On impulse, I asked, “Do you have time to cut my
hair?”
*****************
The public transit system is pretty good so we were
able to catch a bus for downtown easily. Red and I took a nice long
walk around Spokane's city center. While not large, the downtown
area bustled with activity and we had a great time learning to
maneuver around the lunch crowd.
By two o’clock I was tired of walking and bribed Red
with promises of a hotdog at Riverfront Park. Red wasn't sure what
a hotdog was (he said it in a way that added a comic puzzled accent
on the “dog” part), but I built it up with lots of emphasis about
the meaty smell and the fact it was wrapped in bread.
The Spokane River, regulated through downtown by a
small system of dams, features a series of waterfalls. Bisecting
the city is an artificially constructed diversion which created an
area resembling a pond. The “pond” at Riverfront Park is actually a
deceptively fast moving body of water which passes through an old
power station's turbines, after which it resumes its course, and is
dumped back into the river downstream.
Spokane Falls is a focal point of Riverfront Park,
which hosted the 1974 World's Fair. Pathways and spanning bridges
interconnect the 100 acre park, hosting a small children's ride
area, an antique, hundred-year-old carousel, and an IMAX theater.
In the summer, sky gondolas take tourists and locals alike out over
the river to view the beauty of thousands of gallons of water
pounding the rocks in a series of spectacular waterfalls. This
summer, Janey, Ken, and I had been frequent visitors to the
concerts, and other special events, featured throughout the warmer
season.
Red and I found a bench area to relax at while we
munched on park food. Hotdogs were a big hit with my new furry
friend.
While we sat in relative privacy, listening to the
crash of water below us, I made an effort to explain last night's
fiasco to Red. I tried to tell him about people and attraction. He
understood the words I used, but it took a while before he
understood the concept humans are mostly visual when it comes to
their attractions and courtships.
“Unlike dogs, we don't rely on taste or smell to
figure out who we want to get to know better.” Red reminded me
about Ken sniffing Janey's hair and I had to explain how that would
have been considered a violation of her personal space if Ken had
been a stranger. When people got to a point of smelling each other
(does that only sound weird to me?) there is already an attraction
and familiarity established.
“People seem to be pretty stingy when it comes to
giving respect, or love, to others, Red. Beyond a mate, we search
our whole lives to find people who are worthy of our friendship and
affection. Unfortunately, we have a tendency to screw up because we
judge a person by what we see.” Red and I had an insightful
disagreement regarding how well humans read body language. I
marveled at how much I was learning from him.
My very serious eight-month-old informed me people
were not too bright. We relied superficially on someone's looks to
determine a base attraction. That beginning is later strengthened
by an individual's priorities, like intelligence, strength, or
possibly physical fitness. Yet, we weren't aware enough to read
obvious posturing and body language.
“It's like you look at
people, but don't see them. If you're so bad at reading visual
clues, it doesn't make sense to rely on looks to pick your
mates.”
Yep, he had me there.