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T
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Smiling with a hint of apprehension and looking her square in the eyes, I extended my right hand. “Hi again, my name is Teresa, but my friends call me ‘T.’” She reached for my hand and asked with a slight grin and one raised eyebrow, “So what shall I call you?” As I made a mental note to self about the softness of her hands I replied, “Well if your dog’s instincts are correct, you’ll fall into the friend category in no time.”
“Hmmm... so you think you know a little something something about dogs?”
“No, not really, I know very little about dogs, but I hope he...”
“She,” the dog owner interjected emphatically.
“Excuuuse me, I hope she likes me since this is the second time she’s attacked me.”
“Come on now, attacked is kind of melodramatic don’t you think?”
“Attacked, knocked to the ground, jumped on...,” I said, I knew what I experienced.
She interrupted impatiently, “Okay, okay, this is not how I imagined our second meeting.”
“Sooo, you’ve been thinking about me?” I asked, unable to wipe the silly grin off my face and curious as to why my stomach was fluttering.
Coco barked before she could respond. “I didn’t say that.”
“Maybe not explicitly, but you just admitted you imagined meeting me again and,” I said, singing like a schoolgirl, “your dog confirmed it.” I gave her a sly grin.
“Whatever!” she exclaimed and rolled her eyes.
“Testy, aren’t we? Alright look, let’s start over. I’m ‘T’,” I said extending my hand primarily to touch her again. “What’s your name?”
“Jasmine, and this is Coco.”
“Hi Coco,” I said and scratched her head, “haven’t we met somewhere before?” Her tail wagged feverishly, and she barked in reply.
“Hmmm, Jasmine? I should have known, you’ve been blowing through my mind like a summer breeze...”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said, surprised that I’d even said that thought aloud. “You come to the Harbor often?”
“Not as much as I should,” she answered.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I should move my body more often. You know, at least walk more and consistently do strength training. Every time I start lifting weights, I wake up sore the next day. So, I stop.”
“Hmmmm,” I mumbled, the imagery of Jasmine’s body moving and me feeling Jasmine’s body moving and rubbing her sore muscles lodged in my mind. Though she mentioned she wasn’t very satisfied with her current body build, I personally appreciated it. The ample curves on a five and a half foot frame were in all the right places and I imagined how pleasurable it would be to cuddle up next to such a warm, inviting creature. She interrupted my lustful thoughts as we walked slowly together.
“You seem to like running.”
“I don’t know that I like the act of running so much as I like how it makes me look and feel.”
It was Jasmine’s turn to be inarticulate, “Hmmmm” I couldn’t help but smile. She found her words again and asked, “So what else do you like to do for fun?”
“I read, I paint, listen to music, take pictures,” I said.
“What kind of music do you like?”
“My taste is quite eclectic,” I responded.
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. Why do you sound surprised,” I wanted to know.
“No reason really. I guess I just wasn’t expecting that. So, R&B?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Classical?” she continued.
“Yes.”
“Pop?”
“Some,” I responded, amused by her interest in my musical taste.
“Hard Rock?”
“Not so much. But here’s one for you...”
“What?” Jasmine wanted to know.
“I love country music,” I said with a smile.
“Country? Like Hee-Haw, Merle Haggard country?” she asked while laughing.
“No silly,” I said, bumping her gently with my shoulder, “More like Shania Twain, Rascal Flats, Martina McBride, Trisha Yearwood country.”
“Oh, you were serious?”
“Of course I was.”
“Interesting,” she said. I didn’t know what quite to make of that but left it alone. She continued her inquiries, “I have at least twenty questions...” Oh no! “If money were not a factor, what would you be doing with your life?”
“I’m actually doing it,” I replied.
“Really?” she asked with more surprise in her voice.
I smiled, “Yes, really. You find that hard to believe?”
“I just don’t meet many people that say they’re actually doing their life’s work.”
“I love making art and I enjoy teaching, most days that is. I would make art even if I didn’t get paid for it.”
“Wow!” Jasmine seemed impressed.
“And if I could teach without being subjected to administrative nonsense like countless unnecessary meetings, grumpy parents, and new requirements stemming from the president’s new ‘No Child Left Behind Act,’ it would be ideal. That aside, I guess I am kind of lucky to do what I like and get paid for it.”
“You’re right about that.”
“What about you? What would you be doing given the chance?” I asked.
“Well, I like what I do but, if money were no object, I would be a florist.”
“A florist?” It was my turn to be surprised.
“Yeah, there are so many possibilities and varieties and colors and combinations of flowers and plants,” Jasmine rattled off.
“Hmmmm, that sounds a lot like painting,” I observed.
“Yeah, I guess it kind of does, doesn’t it?”
“Something else we have in common, I guess. Creative energy!” Not that I needed another reason to adore Ms. Jasmine, but that little nugget added icing on the cake.
“Change of subject,” she exclaimed.
“Oooh-kay...”
“How long have you been growing your locs?”
“Ummmm, about four years now. Why?” I asked.
“I thought about loc’ing my hair once but when I found out they are just as much maintenance as getting my hair permed, that idea quickly faded.”
That made me laugh. “I hear you, I don’t think of them as a lot of work though. I have a great loctician who doesn’t take all day to do what she needs to do.”
“Hmmmm, that’s a blessing. Do you always wear them up?”
“I do when I’m running or when it’s bloody hot. The extra weight and heat are too much on my neck,” I replied.
For the next hour and a half Jasmine and I walked along the sidewalk talking like we were old friends again. Her attentiveness, apparent interest, and our commonalities were refreshing, a much-needed change of pace from the normal blah, blah, blah. Before I knew it, we were standing near her car, and it seemed like neither one of us was in a hurry to leave.
“Hey!” we both said after a pregnant pause.
“You first,” I said.
“No, you,” Jasmine countered.
“I was, um, it’s just that we seem to enjoy each other’s company and all and, um, if you’re not busy...”
“Teresa?” she said, ending my obvious clambering.
“Yes?” I was extremely embarrassed.
“Just spit it out.”
“Okay.” I took a deep breath. “There’s an art exhibit next Friday downtown, I was wondering if you’d like to go? Maybe have dinner afterwards?”
“I’d love to,” Jasmine said smiling and without hesitation.
“Really? Great!” I said feeling relieved and excited at the same time. “What time should I pick you up?” At the mention of time, she looked down at her watch.
“Oh shit! Excuse my language.” Suddenly, she was in a hurry. “Uh, that won’t be necessary,” she said nervously while putting the dog in the backseat on the passenger side of the car and dashing over to the driver’s side all in one fluid motion. She quickly handed me a card as if that were planned. “Here’s my cell number, call and leave the address and I’ll meet you there. What time?”
“Seven, seven o’clock is fine,” I said, trying to read her hurried thoughts. “So, I look forward to seeing you then.”
“Yeah, same here!” She shouted as she started her engine, not waiting for the car to warm up, and pulled away. And with that, all that lingered of Jasmine was the nicely printed business card in my hand and rampant thoughts of the next time I’d see her.