(All characters are over 18 years of age)
I have a sister who is two years younger than I am.
Her name is Laurel, and she is a brunette who stands 5' 4" in stocking feet. My Dad maintains that she is the spitting image of Mom when Mom was that age, and it is easy to see how Mom wrapped my Dad around her little finger all their adult life. She has an olive cast to her skin she inherited from our Latina grandmother, and so even in the bleakest weather she glows with health, blessed with a year-around tan.
Yes, a tan all over. She's my sister - quit being a perv.
The first thing I usually notice is her emerald eyes which flash with intelligence and sarcastic wit. She is both book-smart and street smart; she claims that when I was born, I disappointed our "Fairy Godmothers" by being a Neanderthal troll throwback, so they saved all the good stuff in trust until she was born.
While I cannot definitively prove her theory wrong, there seems an abundance of circumstantial evidence to support her contention. My 5'9" frame is kind of a Neanderthal exhibit; just as Laurel could pass herself off as a graceful Tolkien elf out of the movies, I could pass as a dwarf... if dwarves came in taller sizes. I came from "good peasant stock" and grew up swimming competitively in high school; while I was no longer quite so ripped as I had been, I was still a good 180 lbs of (mostly) muscle.
At the moment, she had put herself in charge of preparing me for a blind date, for my sins. Friday she had bribed me with setting me up with a new woman at school to take her to a Halloween party at her friend's house. What she didn't know (but suspected from my self-satisfied grin when I picked her up to take her home again) is that at the party I had met a lovely lady in a leopard costume, taken her to her home, and became her version of catnip for a few wonderful hours. When she and I had parted, I had promised to call soon to take her to dinner, and perhaps a movie.
I didn't really care what we were going to do, so long as it was together. She could read a public phone book out loud and I would probably stare at her, utterly entranced.
I was smitten, even as I kept trying to keep my expectations low; I had no real idea of how much she liked me, or if I had merely been a convenient but helpful fellow in her hour of need that she had felt deserved a spectacularly disproportionate reward.
In any case, Laurel had called her friend on Saturday, and arranged for me to meet her for lunch on Sunday. I tried to explain that I was beginning what I hoped was a romantic relationship. Laurel was having none of it.
"Dane, I am glad you met someone you like, but let's be fair; you don't even know her real name. Besides, I already made the date and it's just lunch, not matrimony. Take her to lunch, make her smile and welcome to her new home."
Laurel had a point. Taking a woman to lunch as a welcome to a new city was a few hours on an otherwise boring Sunday for me, but a nice thing to do for a new friend of my sister.
At least it would keep me busy while I fretted about calling Kitty the Leopard Woman.
Laurel, feeling responsible for making sure I made a good impression, had gotten me out of bed at 9AM, and began running me through her checklist... which included wearing my charcoal-grey suit.
"Yes, you have to wear a suit. With a tie, in fact. It's Sunday, so many people will be wearing their 'Sunday best', so right or wrong I will.not see you out-shown by people who went to church and luncheon thereafter," she replied.
"What is wrong with black jeans and a polo shirt?" I questioned. If "Engineer Formal" was good enough for work, it should have been good enough for a casual lunch.
Laurel crossed her arms, tapped her foot impatiently, and gave me a world-class evil eye worthy of ancient brujas throughout the ages.
I threw in the towel. If Laurel wanted to treat me as her own personal Ken doll for a day, that also wouldn't kill me. There are some hills worth dying on, and this wasn't one of those.
I insisted on wearing my black tie decorated with Daffy Duck as Duck Dodgers. Laurel scowled, but let it slide. I take victories where I find them.
At the appointed hour, Laurel followed me to the restaurant. Close to the campus, Laurel would stick around and introduce us, then head out for some shopping therapy while her friend and I got to know each other.
Laurel had selected a Tex-Mex restaurant called Kali's, known for their inexpensive appetizers; during the week they probably fed half the college crowd, but was delightfully deserted during the weekend days. Laurel and I were seated on the patio, because "fresh air and sunshine set the proper ambiance", according to my ever-wise sister.
We were fifteen minutes early. Laurel forbade me a beer; I had soda water with a twist of lime instead. After a few minutes, Laurel got a mischievous sparkle in her eye, and I sensed that there was someone walking up behind me. I stood slowly and turned to meet my blind date... and froze while Laurel made the introductions.
"Abby, this handsome fellow is my big brother Dane. Dane, this gorgeous creature is my friend Abigail Walker."
I did not move.. I did not speak. My jaw dropped, just like a cartoon character on the receiving end of a 50 Lb. sledgehammer.
Abigail Walker was amazingly lovely. Her deep brown hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft curls. Hazel eyes twinkled back at me mischievously as her full, soft lips smirked knowingly. She was dressed casually in a knee-length grey skirt and black blouse. The blouse was buttoned all the way, exposing only a small amount of milky-white skin. She wore comfortable black flats on her feet.
I felt remarkably over-dressed.
"Hello Dane," she softly said, leaning in to kiss my cheek, my Thor's Hammer necklace peeking out from her cleavage.
I stood there as if her kiss had been administered with a paralytic poisonous flavor of lipstick from the Batman villain Poison Ivy (what can I say? I thought we had already established I was a nerd). Apparently I froze for so long her charming smile faltered, unsure of my reaction.
"You!" I said, blending an alloy of bewilderment and amazement. I did not know what to say; I was dumbstruck, I was enchanted. I was a Prince, who, having prepared to kiss the frog on a blind date, found a Princess as my reward! I recovered long enough to remember my manners, and held her chair for her so she could join the table.
