(Author's note: all characters in this story are pretty clearly over 18.
While some chapters will stand alone, this one really depends on Chapter 3 to make sense.)
The snow piled up that Saturday, as much as it ever piles up this far South. I measured seven un-drifted inches and knew, particularly as it was the weekend, that I wasn't going anywhere for a couple of days. Snows like that are rare enough around here that it doesn't pay to invest in a lot of snow clearing equipment, so we just shut down until the thaw that inevitably comes within a couple of days.
I cleaned the house and worked out a little. I had a pretty serious photography hobby and spend some time editing some photos from a couple of shoots that I'd done for a local band at their latest club show. Beyond that, I generally puttered around and enjoyed the quiet. Sunday was beautiful and snow-covered and I hiked out to the nearby university-owned woods with my camera to capture it.
And I thought about Ramona. There was clearly more to her than our neighbors (myself included) had ever imagined. I was curious, of course -- I'm usually a better observer of people than that, although I had never spent much time around her before the previous week. And none inside her (sorry, bad joke). It was pretty damn clear that she hadn't always been the Suzy Homemaker that she presented to the rest of us and I figured the story there was probably pretty interesting.
True to form, the highs climbed into the 50s on Monday and the 60s on Tuesday and the snow was pretty much gone by Wednesday afternoon. I was back on my normal schedule, even getting out to go for a walk with Joanie on Tuesday. Of course I didn't mention Ramona's visit but she did become the topic of conversation again. Joanie made a couple of snarky remarks about her and her husband and I found myself defending Ramona, which drew some puzzled looks from Joanie.
"Hey, I just feel bad for her, okay?" I said. "She's got enough going on without the neighborhood buzzing about her."
She did a double-take and started to respond, then apparently thought better of it and changed the subject. We finished our walk with the subject of Ramona apparently forgotten, but after I got home I wondered a little at my reaction. I knew that I had a tendency to get protective of the women in my life, but I didn't consider her a 'woman in my life', did I?
That question was put to the test on Thursday, when I got a call from Ramona asking if we could meet for dinner on Friday. "I really want to talk to you. There are some things that I think you deserve to know about me. And I think maybe I owe you," she said, the last with a little chuckle.
I thought for a couple of minutes, knowing that this could be a horrible, very bad, no-good mistake. But I'd already admitted to myself that I was intrigued by her. "Tell you what," I finally said. "I'm supposed to photograph the band that's playing at The BarNone Friday night. If you want, we can grab some dinner in the neighborhood and then go to the club. I can get an extra backstage pass for you and we can hang out. How does that sound?"
I guess I was testing her. I figured the seemingly conservative neighborhood mom would quickly turn down a night at a rock & roll club and we'd be done, or at least find some other night to meet. That was definitely not the response I got. "You're shooting The Howsoevers? That would be amazing!" she almost gushed.
Okay, things were getting curiouser and curiouser. It was surprising enough that she would have heard of a fairly obscure band like these guys but for her to know they were playing locally seemed... well, "unexpected" would be a considerable understatement. Nevertheless, I arranged to pick her up at 6:30 the next night figuring we'd grab some dinner at a brewpub near the club before the show. That was a little early but I thought that would give me time to get her home and still make it back to the show if she decided to bail.
I pulled into her driveway right on time and she practically bounced down the steps to the car. It was dark by then of course and still pretty chilly, upper 30s or so, and she was wearing the same overcoat that she'd had on the week before. Jeez, had it really only been a week? I could see what looked like Dr Martens boots under her coat, with thick black leggings covering those long legs. That was certainly a different look than I expected!
We chatted about the snow and, rather pointedly, not much else on the short drive into town. I lucked into a parking space within a block of the restaurant and we walked over, the breeze whipping her coat around her legs. I'll admit that after the last time I'd seen her wearing it, my imagination was running wild thinking of what she might have on underneath it.
As we walked under a streetlight, I also noticed for the first time that she had dyed her hair platinum blonde and had razor-cut the left side of her head - not shaved but super-short in a punky cut that looked as interesting and dangerous as I assume she was going for. Definitely no longer a suburban mom look and now I was imagining her vacuuming the house in a studded leather choker rather than pearls.
We were seated pretty quickly, at a booth in a corner which suited me fine since Ramona had "wanted to talk" - that usually implies the need for some privacy. She took her coat off and I reassessed my earlier observation. Instead of tights, she was wearing knee-high black socks, leaving a mile of creamy bare thigh on the way to the black micro-mini leather skirt she was sporting below a 1980's vintage Betty Boop cropped sweatshirt. She looked young and cool and a little dangerous and I'm guessing every damn person in the pub was sure I was her old dad taking his rebellious daughter out for dinner.
