Chapter 32 : What a Body Wants, part one

[pascal_curious]

This is just silly, thought Amber as she brushed her teeth. There is no reason for me to be nervous. I’m just going out for dinner with Bunny. 

 She rinsed her mouth and ran her tongue over her teeth to make sure she hadn’t missed a spot. She found a bit on her front lower teeth that wasn’t as smooth and squeaky clean as the rest of her teeth and resumed brushing. It is just Bunny, she told herself again. You’ve known him since grade school; there is no reason to be nervous.

 

 

 

No matter how many times she assured herself that there was nothing to feel anxious about she still got a queer fluttery feeling in her chest. Her anxiety caused her to brush more vigorously and the brush slipped, gouging a bit of skin from her gums and making her eyes water with the pain of it.
 
“Ow,” she said as she dropped her brush in to the sink basin. She looked in the mirror to inspect the damage. Blood was already coloring the toothpaste froth in her mouth a pale pink. She rinsed again and made sure there was nothing left in the sink before she rinsed and put away her toothbrush.

 

She had decided to pamper herself with a long hot bubble bath to ease her nerves.  

Instead of being able to lay back and relax as lavender scented bubbles floated around her, she found herself thinking of reasons she might be able to use to cancel her dinner date with Bernard. She wished she had just told him no when he had asked her to dinner. She did want to get together with her old friend, but not the way he had in mind. If she had known, at the time, that Armando’s was more than a corner diner, she would have declined or suggested a different locale.

 

Pink from the extended hot soak and over enthusiastic scrubbing, she draped herself in her towel and set about doing her hair and makeup. Mascara and curling irons were not a part of her everyday routine. Her everyday, practical, no-frills routine was much simpler and faster. With nervous clumsy fingers and fumbling hands she managed to make herself presentable after about an hour of under her breath cursing and bending over to pick up her hairbrush.

 

Pleased with the fruits of her labors, she went to her wardrobe removed the dress she had bought that afternoon. The girl at the shop had raved about how gorgeous Amber looked in it. It brings out the green in your eyes, the shop girl had said. Amber rationalized that the girl had only been doing her job. She must have done it very well; Amber left the shop with a $500 dress and $100 pair of shoes. She carefully stepped into the dress of floaty mint colored material and after a few minutes of awkward twisting and turning she was able to zip up the back. 

She assessed herself in her mirror and determined that the shop girl had been right. The dress did bring out the green in her eyes. She pirouetted in front of the mirror, holding the light material out and it floated around her like a cloud. She felt beautiful, a feeling she hadn’t experienced since her wedding day. She wished Pascal could see her now. He had never seen her dressed in anything other than jeans and a top. Maybe if he saw her looking the way she did now… Stop it, she told herself. I’m not going to think about that.

 

She inspected her makeup in the bedroom mirror to make sure she hadn’t smudged anything or gotten any lipstick on her teeth. She hated wearing makeup, it felt like she was wearing a coating of plastic on her face. She had to admit, thought, she really did look pretty. She checked the time on the bedroom clock. Five more minutes until Bunny said he would pick her up. She had to find something to do. She didn’t want to sit down and wrinkle her dress so she picked up and put down things around her bedroom at random under the pretext of straightening the place up. Her thoughts were far from what she was doing. It wasn’t until she caught herself putting the cordless phone away in her underwear drawer that she realized she had be imagining herself going out to dinner with Pascal, rather than Bernard.

 

Amber wasn’t sure whether to panic or be relieved when the doorbell finally rang. She checked herself one last time in the bedroom mirror before going to answer the door. Amber hardly recognized the man standing on her porch as the man she had become reacquainted with two days ago. His hair was cut short and his beard neatly trimmed. She clamped down on her lips to keep from smiling. She mustn’t seem too enthusiastic, she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. When she opened her mouth to say hello, however, she couldn’t keep a smile from slowly creeping across her face.
 
“Hi,” she said shyly.
 
Bernard was returning her smile tenfold.

 

“You look…” He struggled for an appropriate adjective and couldn’t find one. “Wow.”
 
“Thanks,” she said as she looked away from his intense gaze.
 
“You look great, yourself, “she told him, “but you cut your hair.”
 
Bernard self consciously ran his hand over his freshly trimmed neckline. “It was getting a little ridiculous,” he explained, “and you didn’t even recognize me at all the other day.”
 
“I liked it, but this is nice too.” The handsome man standing in her foyer looked more like the Bernard she remembered from her school days.
 
They stood in awkward silence for a moment.
 
“Well,” Bernard said finally, “If Milady is ready, her chariot awaits.”

 

Amber smiled and allowed him to hold the door for her. She stepped out on to the front porch and into the evening sun. She couldn’t help looking to the house across the street and noticing the empty driveway. She knew there wouldn’t be anyone home, save for the new babysitter. It still didn’t keep her from hoping to see Lazlo pruning his plants in the greenhouse, Vidcund working out on the roof, or Pascal at his chess table trying to teach a hopeless Nervous how to play. She now understood what Pascal had meant about her being part of the family.
 
Bernard led the way to the passenger side of his rusty gray pickup truck and opened the door.
 
“Sorry, the seat wasn’t too clean,” he said, pointing to the beach towel he had draped over the passenger side of the seat. “I don’t usually have passengers. I didn’t want you to get your dress dirty.”
 
“Thank you,” Amber said with a smile as she climbed into the cab of the truck. “That was very thoughtful.”

 

Bernard closed the door, making sure not to catch amber’s dress in the door. He rounded the truck and climbed in on the driver’s side. “I know it’s not much, and it’s pretty dirty,” he explained sheepishly, “But it will get us there.”
 
“I really don’t mind,” Amber told him.” I couldn’t take you anywhere in my truck anyway. The passenger side is full with empty drink bottles and fast food wrappers,” she said in an effort to ease his anxiety about his shabby vehicle.
 
“Well, I don’t feel so bad then,” he said with a grin as he started the truck.

 

The drive to Armando’s was only about two miles, but to Amber it seemed like fifty. She sat there nervously wringing her fingers, not knowing what to say to break the uncomfortable silence. She knew they should have a million things to talk about, but she couldn’t come up with one. After five excruciating minutes Bernard pulled the truck into the parking lot adjoining the restaurant. He parked, exited he vehicle, and opened the passenger side door for Amber. He offered her his arm to steady her as she stepped down.
 
“I’ve never been here,” she said as she looked up at the impressive building. Its Colonial Revival architecture seemed out of place in the desert.
 
“Good,” Bernard said. “I’m glad I get to be the first one to bring you here.”
 
Amber and Bernard walked arm in arm into the restaurant. Inside, they were greeted by a handsome dark haired woman behind the hostess station.
 
“Good evening sir, do you have a reservation?” she asked, half paying attention to her customers and half to the pile of menus about to slide off of the podium.
 
“Yes, although we are a little early,” Bernard said. Amber thought he looked like he was about to laugh. “The Reservation was for a party of two at seven pm.”
 
The hostess’ brows furrowed as she shuffled the slippery menus into a more stable stack.
 
 “I’m sorry sir, that’s impossible. We close at seven on Sundays.”
 
“I assure you that my reservation was for seven,” Bernard insisted. Amber thought he was starting to sound a little arrogant, but he still was wearing a crooked smile.
 
The hostess took a deep breath before she spoke and looked up. “Are you sure it wasn’t for a different evening, sir?” she asked.
 
“Yes, I’m sure,” Bernard said.
 
A look of comprehension finally spread over the hostess’ face and she broke into a wide smile. He hand went to her to hide her abashment as she stifled a giggle.
 
“Oh my…I’m so sorry… you look so…I didn’t recognize…” she stammered. The pile of menus in front slid off of the podium and crashed to the floor, and startled her from her embarrassed sputtering. Full of composure, she gracefully picked up two of the menus from the floor and stepped forward from the podium. She was still wearing a wide smile.
 
“Your table is right this way, Mr. Carlton,” she said, putting just a little too much emphasis on his name.
 
“Mr. Carlton?” Bernard asked. “Since when am I Mr.Carlton?”
 
The young woman blushed and didn’t answer.
 
“I guess it’s better than Bernie.” He said.
 
Bernard stepped back and allowed the hostess to lead them to their table. He allowed Amber to go ahead of him and he followed slightly behind her, his hand barely touching her lower back as she walked ahead. Amber felt his slight touch and a chill ran over her.
 
Amber took in her surroundings as they walked to their table. The place was beautiful. The walls and floors were of marble. The marble was white with very subtle veins of gray. In several places beautiful scrollwork in black had been painted on to the walls. Every bit of furniture, every light fixture, and every decoration was either black or white. The only splashes of color were the red roses on every table, and her own billowing dress. Even the servers wore black and white; only small amount gold brocade was visible underneath their jackets. The polished floors gleamed and reflected everything around her. The floors were so polished that Amber couldn’t help but to look down to make sure that her reflection didn’t show the little white panties she was wearing under her dress.
 
Their table was a romantic table for two, near the window, with an elegant centerpiece of candles and red roses. Nearby was a man in a white tuxedo playing something classical on a white baby grand piano. Bernard courteously helped Amber with her chair before taking the seat across from her. The hostess handed them each a menu and launched into a description of the evenings specialties (probably the most expensive thing in the menu, thought Amber).

 

“This evening the Chef recommends an appetizer of smoked salmon on a rosti potato cake with herbed crème fraiche and caviar; as an entrée he suggests the filet mingnon of beef served with crispy leeks, potato puree and baby carrots with béarnaise sauce ( a bottle of Château Haut-Brion Cabernet Sauvignon is the perfect complement to this entrée, she added as an aside); and for dessert the Chef recommends the Crepes Suzette.” The hostess took a second to catch her breath before adding, “May I get something to drink while you look over the menu? Perhaps something from our extensive wine list?”
 
“Would you like a glass of wine?” Bernard asked Amber.
 
“No thank you, but a glass of water would be nice,” she said. She was determined to keep her wits about her. Wine would interfere with her ability to resist the efforts Bernard was so clearly making to woo her.
 
“Two glasses of water then,” Bernard told the hostess.
 
“Someone will be along in a few minutes to take your orders, Mr. Carlton.” The girl said with a smile and a wink at Bernard before she walked off in the direction of the kitchen.
 
Amber opened the menu and read quickly scanned the offerings. The prices she saw made her feel even more uncomfortable. Even though she knew she could afford to sample the fare at this restaurant, she wasn’t sure how Bernard could afford it, living the way he did. She was very apprehensive about choosing anything . She closed her menu and sat it down near the edge of the table.
 
“Why don’t you order for me,” she asked. “You probably know what’s best here; I don’t even know what half the stuff is in that menu.”
 
“Are you sure?” Bernard asked.
 
“Yes,” she told him, trying to manage a smile.
 
Bernard closed his menu and sat it on top of Amber’s. Within seconds their waitress appeared with two glasses of water.
 
“Have you decided what you would like this evening?” She asked as she placed their glasses of water on the table.
 
 
“We will both have the chef’s recommendations, including the wine,” Bernard told her.
 
“Is there anything else I can get you while you are waiting for your appetizers?” the girl asked as she picked up the menus.
 
“No thank you.”
 
The girl smiled bashfully at Bernard and hurried off to the kitchen.
 
Amber sipped her water to keep from having to talk. 
 
“What do you think?” Bernard asked her.

 

“It’s just, well, amazing. I never expected there would be a place like this In Strangetown.” She took another sip from her glass. “And I don’t think I have ever had caviar before,” she added as an afterthought. She felt foolish as soon as she said it; like the country mouse on her trip to the city. She took another sip of her water to hide the embarrassment that probably showed on her face.
 
“I don’t know if you’ll like it,” Bernard told her. “I’m not really a big fan of it. If you can manage to swallow it without letting the eggs break inside your mouth it isn’t too bad. You’re supposed to savor them and let them burst in your mouth, but I think it kinda tastes like what’s left in the deep fryer after a really busy week at Long John Silver’s I won’t be offended if you don’t eat it”
 
Amber was lost for a response so she simply smiled at him and nodded. Another sip of her water and the glass was almost empty. She knew she was going to have to say something. She anxiously drew little lines with her finger in the condensation on her water glass as she thought. What she really wanted to do was pose the question that had been troubling her all week. She decided to go with it. After the final sip from her glass she took a deep breath and dived in, headfirst.
 
“Why did you bring me here?” she blurted. 
 
Bernard looked surprised by her question. She knew it hadn’t come out quite the way she had intended. She didn’t want to have been so blunt. She tried to recover with, “I mean, we could have just gone to the diner, which would have been fine.”
 
He gave her a half smile. He looked disappointed.
 
“I suppose I wanted to impress you,” he told her, quite honestly.
 
“Why?” Amber asked. “I’ve known you since we were six years old. Back then were in your back yard eating mud pies with worms in. You didn’t need to impress me then, and you don’t now.”
 
“It never kept me from trying though, did it?” he asked. 
 
“No,” Amber answered with a shake of her head. “It never did.”
 
“It’s been ten years. A lot has happened to us both in those ten years. We have both changed. I guess I wanted to show you that I hadn’t changed in to an asshole.”
 
“I used to know you pretty well, Bernard. It would take something truly horrible to happen to turn you into an...a jerk.”
 
Bernard chuckled. “I suppose you’re right, I’m just showing off.”
 
“Well, some things never do change, do they?” Amber couldn’t help smiling.

 “You’ve changed.” Bernard said, suddenly very serious. “You’re not as outgoing as you used to be, and you don’t smile as much.”

 

“Not as obnoxious, you mean? We all have to grow up sometime,” Amber said quietly.
 
“No, that’s not growing up. Being responsible and paying your bills on time and remembering that you aren’t the center of the universe, that’s growing up. You’ve changed.”

 

The rosy glow of the sunset was coming through the window behind Bernard and some of Bernard’s hairs shone a dark auburn among the black. She had forgotten how his hair really wasn’t black, but a very dark brown, sprinkled with dark auburn and black. He was looking at her, his grey eyes full of concern and affection.
 
“Nervous told me about your husband,” Bernard explained. “I’m very sorry.
 
Amber’s attention was quickly drawn away from the shades of Bernard’s hair and eyes. “Been doing some research have you?” She asked, slightly annoyed. She had hoped that she would be able to skirt the subject. “When did dear Nervous tell you that?”
 
Again, Bernard was surprised. He hadn’t expected that reaction.

 

“He called me yesterday. I decided to ask him if there was anything important I should know about you. It was a good thing too, because I would have launched into something about how much of an asshole your husband must have been. Up until yesterday I thought you were divorced, not widowed.”
 
It was clear to Amber that Bernard was defending his actions. She felt badly for having jumped to the assumption that Bernard had been checking whether she was available or not. 
 
“I’m sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to jump down your throat like that. I just don’t like talking about it much.” She explained.

 

Bernard reached out and put his hand over hers. “Don’t worry about it,” he told her. “I understand.” He then quickly corrected himself, “I mean I don’t really understand what you’ve been through, but I do understand not wanting to talk about something.”
 
“Well, let’s not talk about unpleasant things,” she said. She was fully aware that Bernard was divorced. She had done similar checking up. Nervous had told her the whole sordid tale as it had been told to him. 
 
“Maybe you can tell me about how you managed to get us a reservation here for after closing hour?” she asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.
 
Bernard failed to suppress a crooked smile. “Let’s just say I called in a favor.”
 
“I’m not sure I want to know what kind of favor you did that would make someone want to keep a place like this open after hours for just one customer,” she told him, mindful of Bernard’s arrangements to go “cactus” hunting with Lazlo.

 

Bernard’s crooked smile grew into a full blown grin. “You’re probably better off not knowing,” he admitted.
 

The waitress arrived with their appetizers and Amber was grateful to have a reason to not to talk. Bernard had been right about the caviar. It did taste fishy and oily, but in combination with the crème fraiche and smoked salmon it really wasn’t so bad. Amber enjoyed the appetizer very much, especially since she didn’t have to worry about not liking it. Her conscience would have driven her mad if she had ordered something at these prices and not liked it. 

The entrée was equally as delectable as the appetizer, and the wine heavenly. It was wonderful to have a dinner of something other than Hamburger Helper and canned green beans and she told Bernard so. He laughed and told her that he agreed that it was quite an improvement over Hamburger Helper. They enjoyed pleasant conversation between bites of filet and baby carrot. They talked about old times and time lost. 

It was much easier for Amber to talk when she had a plate of food in front of her. She tended to worry more about dripping béarnaise down her front than what to talk about. When dessert came it was accompanied by a bottle of Dom Perignon. When Bernard insisted that he hadn’t ordered it the waitress explained that it was courtesy of “Mandy”

 
“I was supposed to ‘tell Bear-nay eet ees lan-yap’”, the waitress explained in a much exagerrated french accent.
 
“That’s one hell of a lagniappe,” Bernard protested.
 
“He told me to open it before I brought it out so you couldn’t refuse it.” The waitress said. 
 
“Sneaky bastard,” Bernard muttered. “Can you at least ask Mandy to come out here so I can thank him?” he asked the waitress.
 
“I can try,” she said doubtfully.
 
“Who exactly is Mandy?” Amber asked with a raised eyebrow once the waitress had gone off on her mission.
 
“Armando, the owner”
 
“That must have really been one heck of a favor.”
 
“It wasn’t,” Bernard told her. ‘Trust me, it wasn’t”
 
Bernard offered a toast while they waited for the waitress to return, with or without the generous Mandy.

 

“To old friends,” he said.
 
Amber raised her glass to his. “To old friends,” she said quietly.
 
The waitress returned. Through fits of giggles she said, “I knocked on his door and he said ‘Go away. I am beezee.’ I don’t think he’s going to come out. He had a bottle with him when he went in.”
 
“I’ll just have to give him hell tomorrow. Thanks anyway,” he told the waitress.
 
“Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked.
 
“No, thanks.” Bernard told her and she sauntered off back to the kitchen.
 
As Amber dreaded it would, the uncomfortable silence returned.  Without food or drink to keep their mouths busy, the pressure to talk about something was back.
 
Bernard suddenly rose from his chair and took Amber’s hand.
 
Amber looked up at him, not sure what to expect.
 
“May I have the pleasure of this dance?” he asked.
 
“Um, of course,” she said.

 

She thought she would feel silly, dancing in an empty restaurant, but she found it to be quite fun. It had been ages since she had danced; she had forgotten how much she enjoyed it. The song was a slow one, one that she recognized but couldn’t remember the title to. 

Bernard was the consummate gentleman, holding her hands in the classic stance and only dipping once toward the end of the song. The pianist finished the song and began the next.

 
Amber dissolved into a fit of giggles. She recognized the piece and its title; Chariots of Fire
 
Bernard looked at her, utterly baffled. This only made things funnier to her. Well, that and the alcoholic beverages. She put her arms around him as she continued to giggle madly. Her giggling made him laugh, despite not knowing what it was about. 
 
Amber finally managed to compose herself long enough to explain. “I’m sorry’” she said, her arms still around him. “That’s really such a horrible piece. I know it won an Oscar and everything, but whenever I hear it I can only think of that horrible commercial for one of those terrible compilation records. I can still see the clip of those guys running down the beach with the titles of even more awful pieces of music scrolling up the screen. It just struck me that everything when we were kids was just so cheesey.” She knew she was doing a poor job of explaining, it suddenly didn’t seem as funny as it did a minute ago.
 
“It’s wonderful to see you smile like that,” he said. “I remember that smile.”
 
He turned to the pianist. “Hey Coop, why don’t you skip the Chariots tonight,” he suggested
 
The pianist turned around on his bench. “Sorry. The blue hairs, they like that one.”
 
“Not a problem. Do you think you could maybe kick it up a notch?” Bernard requested.
 
“Sure,” replied the pianist and he returned to the keyboard.
 
The music was instantly recognizable. Amber looked at Bernard and shook her head as the staccato first notes, played in place of Bill Haley’s voice, rang through the marble dining room.
 

“One, Two, Three O'clock, Four O'clock rock,
Five, Six, Seven O'clock, Eight O'clock rock.
Nine, Ten, Eleven O'clock, Twelve O'clock rock,
We're gonna rock around the clock tonight…”

 
“No, I can’t,” Amber insisted,, “I don’t remember the steps.”
 
Bernard was grinning widely. “Come on, I know you do.”
 
Before Amber could launch into further protest, Bernard had taken her hand and they were swinging. Amber was surprised at how easily the steps cam back to her. They had learned the dance in eleventh grade for a musical production. Bernard had been an excellent dance partner in the eleventh grade, and he still was. Indeed, some things never did change. The laughed as they danced, for a few moments forgetting that they were adults with adult worries and responsibilities, and forgetting decade lost between them. They were sixteen again.
 
The pianist seemed to be enjoying it as much as they did. He played the music so enthusiastically that Bernard and Amber had trouble keeping up the pace. Amber imagined that this was the first time rock-n-roll music had come out of that piano. 
 
They finished their dance a little clumsily as the music finished. Neither of them could seem to remember the last step. Amber collapsed into Bernard’s arms, panting and laughing. They were both surprised to receive a standing ovation from what was left of the kitchen and wait staff. Amber felt the tips of her ears turning red. She didn’t know why she was embarrassed; 10 years ago she would have taken a bow.
 
“Thanks Cooper,” Bernard told the pianist. 
 
“No problem Bernie. Anything else you wanna hear?”  
 
Bernard cringed at the name Bernie. He looked at Amber and she shook her head.
 
“I think we’re going to call it a night,” Bernard answered.

 

Bernard took Amber’s hands in his. “I know what you are going to think when I say this, but I was wondering if you would mind coming to my place, I have something I wanted to show you.”
 
Amber couldn’t help laughing. “That’s a loaded statement if I ever heard one,” she said, teasing.
 
“I knew that’s what you would think,” he said. “Some things never do change, do they?” he asked with a wink.
 
All of Amber’s apprehension about the evening seemed to have left her.

 

“I think I would like that.” 
 

Comments

[pascal-curious.livejournal.com]

Wow. 50000+ words. Now I can finally oficially say I wrote a novel. Maybe someday I will be able to say I FINISHED writing one.

[sounddecision.livejournal.com]

Congrats!

[petalbrook.livejournal.com]

I am so curious (no pun intended) why Bernard was able to take Amber to the fanciest restaurant in Strangetown.

[pascal-curious.livejournal.com]

Bernard has a bit of a seedy side. Lets just say it was one helluva favor.

There was actually a whole chapter I had planned that I skipped back when Bernard and Nervous were at the bar. I just decided that I had too much going on already and too many loose ends to tie up. I'm going to have to revisit the whole idea later, but I gotta get these Curious babies born. Those poor boys have been pregnant for ages.