Chapter 3: Trouble with a Capital R
I hurried upstairs to locate my bikini, flip flops, shorts, and classic SNL More Cowbell t-shirt—most of which were on my floordrobe rather than in my closet. I changed in a minute flat and grabbed my beach bag. My beach bag contains: 4 different levels of sunscreen, 3 different types of books that all have various levels of water damage, towel, old but indestructible mp3 player, lip gloss, hair tie, water bottle, and my favorite shade of OPI nail polish: Legs Celebrate. As I went to grab my phone, I remembered who actually had my phone number. Today would be a good day to have a break from technology and leave all my worries behind.
I headed downstairs to the kitchen just as Thrace polished off the egg salad. I left a note for my parents and walked hand-in-hand with Thrace for the five blocks to his house. In less than ten minutes, I was floating my cares away in Thrace’s pool. I had a freakish ability to float perfectly atop the water—no raft needed. Today, it was harder to float my cares away. There was something about how Thrace said that Rafe set off warning bells in his head that disturbed me. It was like the foreshadowing you often got in a scary movie. He definitely set off warning bells in my brain, but he also seemed familiar to me. The way we immediately started to banter was not only unusual it was unheard of for me. As aloof as I could be, I never just clicked with someone new like that.
When Thrace felt that he gave me the appropriate amount of time for my floating, he cannon balled into the pool to bring me back to the present. We did some water sparring before it was time to get out and dry off for a bit. We stretched out side by side on a double lounger that Thrace bullied his parents into getting. Thrace diligently applied my sunscreen on anywhere I allowed him to get his hands on. We kissed and snuggled for a while enjoying the perfect weather and the last days of freedom. Thrace decided to take another dip in the pool to cool off while I grabbed a book to entertain me. For my light pool reading, Stephanie Plum won out today because she’s describing the hot New Jersey summer as she ran around trying to catch bail jumpers and unscrew up her love life. I could sympathize.
Thrace got back, dried off, and sat down next to me. His cool body was the perfect temperature to combat the sun. I read while he listened to his iPod. It sort of reminded me of my parents. Both my parents and Thrace and I were perfectly happy sitting next to each other while doing different things. There were some couples at school that have to do absolutely everything together. If he’s playing a video game, she has to play a video game or worse watch him constantly play video games. If she wanted to watch a Chic Flick, he had to watch the Chic Flick. Either scenario would drive me insane. Of course, then there was the opposite problem. They liked to watch separate things, so she gets her designated room and he gets the man cave like Thrace’s parents.
Speaking of which, Thrace’s mom arrived home and seemed amused to find us loafing by the pool. She announced that she thought tonight would be a perfect night to grille out and drink Sangria, although she was clear that we were only welcome to the dinner. She asked me to call my parents and get them to come over while she headed to the kitchen to see what was on the menu. I remembered that I left my phone at home so I asked Thrace, “Can I borrow your land line? I left my phone at home.”
He laughed, said yes, and helped me up from our favorite spot. I called home and as usual mom picked up. I let her know the festivities planned for the evening. It was not a hard sell. My mom and Thrace’s mom were co-workers and best friends. I’m fairly certain if this was the time period of most of mom’s historical fiction that our parents would have had us engaged from birth. Thrace’s mom, like my own, has an odd first name, Methone, so everyone just calls her Honey. They were both nurses on the same shift at an intensive care unit, and they both decided to go for their Certified Registered Nurse Anesthetist (CRNA) license together. Nowadays, CRNAs make as much as or more than most family practice doctors! They also both ended up dating men they shouldn’t have dated. In my mom’s case, dad was a patient when a fire he was fighting got out of hand. Dad kept asking her out every time she walked into his room. In his words, “I chased your mom until she caught me.”
In Honey’s case, she fell hopelessly in love with a doctor completing his Residency on her unit. She chased him until she got pregnant, but he wasn’t as good of a catch as my dad. He was sort of a workaholic with little time for any of his kids, and not a whole lot of time for his wife. Thrace’s older sister was barely on speaking terms with him, and it seemed that Thrace was constantly trying to be good or bad enough so his dad would actually notice. When he was home, he was in his man cave, and even Thrace was not really allowed to go down there. Dad seemed to get along fine with Thrace’s dad even though they are so different—fireman vs. doctor. The common threads of being married to women that were practically sisters and their love of Detroit sports’ teams were enough to bridge the divide of education and background.
In short order, the food was all prepped and Thrace was at the grill doing brats and burgers. My mom and Honey were well into the pitcher of Sangria before the dads got home. Dad got here earlier than Thrace’s dad Pierus/Russ. The dads talked sports, and the moms talked old times. Thrace and I listened to both sets of conversations and wondered how we were ever going to turn out even remotely normal. The Edonides clan headed home about 9:00 with not a care in the world.
Luckily, I was on my own when Rafe called that night. He seemed to have an endless supply of Detroit-based questions for me. I was definitely a fount of knowledge. I sorta sounded like a history professor, but it didn’t seem like it scared him off. We got on the subject of karate and sparring, and that was when I brought up my boyfriend, “So when are you sparring with Thrace? He said he was looking forward to it after I told him that you kicked my eyas this morning. Of course, it might have something to do with the fact that he’s slightly possessive when it comes to me. He actually wanted to come with me this morning, and he doesn’t ever get up in the summer before 10.”
“Ahhh. I wondered about that. Although you didn’t mention anything about a boyfriend this morning,” he kidded me.
“You seemed smart enough to catch on that first day. And, I didn’t know I had to explain my personal life to you as we were sparring. Would you like me to draw you pictures too?” I teased.
“If he is possessive about you in regards to me, does he know you gave me your number?”
“I generally dole out information on a need to know basis. I’m also very practical. The level of interrogation and information seeking rises drastically with Thrace when any member of your gender pays attention to me.”
“You must be constantly interrogated by him because I would guess that most guys probably show a lot more than remote interest in you,” he complimented.
The stomach flip must have caused verbal diarrhea because I babbled, “Ahhhh…Wrong! I was the ugly ducking for most of my life. I really have to wonder if Thrace’s issue is an animal thing….Protecting the pride from rival lions and the fight for dominance. I think I like peacocks way of doing things. The men just display their feathers and the one that is the prettiest to the female wins.”
“So you would automatically pick the prettiest one?” Rafe said in an amused tone.
“No, I just think that is a more civilized way of doing things and, the woman gets to decide who she wants—always a positive. Plus, even though I have a black belt in karate, two macho jerks physically fighting over me is not a turn on.”
“A male runway show would be better than two guys fighting over the woman they love. Interesting. I’ll have to remember that in the future.”
“You deliberately misunderstood my words—more civilized, yes, and I get to choose. If it was violence I cared about, I would be much more intrigued with how when a female Praying Mantis gets bored with her mate she just bites his head off.”
“So much for violence not being a turn on! You are a bloodthirsty wench. I feel sorry for your boyfriend.”
“S
o do I. But once again, it’s not about the violence. It’s about us getting to choose our fate as well as too much Animal Planet for me,” I admitted in laughing manner.
“Free will and choices for you. Next thing you know you’ll want the right to vote or to get equal pay for equal work! What is the world coming to? You are lucky to live in a time and place that has granted women equality. It has not always been the case here, and many places still do not give women such freedom,” Rafe stated as if it was his turn to become the history professor.
“That is true, Dr. Rafe. But I also give back to society as well. At DAI, we have our own club that focuses on volunteering. And geek that I am, they voted me President when I had to miss a meeting. It was like being the President of the Chess Club—you might as well put on your college application President/Head Geek. However, every DAI student is required to complete 100 volunteer hours per year, so maybe it’s not that bad,” I said with what sounded like school pride. I needed to check if I was running a high fever as soon as I got off the phone.
“I’m already working with a volunteer group. I wonder if it would count. We document, renovate, and explore some of Detroit’s abandoned real estate to try to get it certified as Historical Landmarks or torn down if they are dangerous.”
“Wow. That’s sounds interesting. I bet our club would be interested in helping with that,” I enthused.
“Some of the buildings are amazing. The background and the events that happened in some of these places are unbelievable. Unfortunately, it’s as if we could turn all of Detroit into a museum to the past sometimes. There are just so many of these beautiful old building that have fallen to complete ruin. It makes you sick,” Rafe said with disgust.
“What is your group called?”
“They’re called the Detroit Urban Archeologists. You can do a lot of different types of volunteer activities with them. We currently have completed over 100 historical building studies. You can help assess the current damage level as well as who owns the property, how much it’s on the market for, or you can help design the buildings’ websites.”
“I love some of the old buildings here. My mom loves going to antique auctions, and she usually drags me along.”
“Then you would fit right in with this group—mostly because they have some pretty strange characters that hang out there,” he teased.
“If you think I’m strange, you should see what some of these old people have kept that is being sold after they die. I went to one auction where the person had to be obsessed with silverware. They had 50 sets of antique-boxed silverware. But they also had about 50 other cardboard boxes that had at least 100 pounds of regular silverware. Sometimes, it is pretty sad to see someone’s whole life’s possession sitting outside their house being bid on by strangers.”
“Sometimes it’s sad? Aren’t you the Queen of Understatement. It sounds almost morbid, and you do this for fun?” Rafe sounded skeptical.
“Yes, you always find the weirdest and wildest things at these estate auctions. And everything has a story behind it. Then, you get to bid against someone, and pit your will against their will.”
“You’re an old soul, Calli,” he mused with affection in his voice.
“My grandma always said that, and I still don’t know what it means. Care to explain?” I remarked inquisitively.
Rafe hesitated for a second before he said, “No, you’ll figure it out someday if you are truly a geek.”
“Excuse me. Did you just mock me? You really feel comfortable enough to mock me. Really…..”
“Calli, I’m guessing that very few of your friends call you on your antics. I promise you, I will be one of them.”
“Wow. What an incentive to pursue a friendship with you. What other sterling attributes do you bring to the friendship table?” I mocked this time.
Rafe was silent for a second before he really sold me with, “Well, I can kick your eyas in karate. I can beat you on every test and quiz in school. I can outrun you. I can outdo you in the use of sarcasm and vocabulary, and I have the prettiest display of feathers in the Detroit area.” Then he laughed in a deeply suggestive way that got my heart rate accelerating.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed too! When our amusement ceased, I finally said, “Vain much? You know, guys that act like they’re god’s gift to women are really a turn off.”
“Can’t have it both ways, Calliope. You either want to choose the guy with the prettiest feathers or you don’t.”
“I’m sorry, were you still talking?” I countered back.
“Ah. Evasion. I think you are particularly good at that skill,” he speculated.
“As stimulating as this conversation has been, I’m gonna have to get some rest so I can kick your eyas tomorrow morning. So, good night, Mr. Vain.”
“And she retreats. Good night, Calli.”
Oh, I’m in Trouble. I remembered the wise words of Harold Hill from The Music Man (I am a show tunes freak, deal), as he thought trouble in something that started with P. He was only a couple letters off because trouble in my life started and ended with R for Rafe.