Lilt

Best Served Cold

Two nervous and shivering adults spotted each other from across the parking lot. It was that awkward, halting, gate towards one another, each extending a forearm and the pointer finger in acknowledgment of the other. Both heads lol to one side, and one eyebrow is raised in a question. This clumsy first dance sponsored by Tinder. Then as they came in range, two timid voices tried the others name allowed, for the first time.

    "Sara?"

     "Baden?"

There was an important decision to be made at this very moment in time. So leading Baden Brone extended  both arms in a semicircle, at the exact same instant Sara extended her right hand outwardly at waste height. Both resolute, they continued awkwardly with their chosen gesture, resulting in the most uncomfortable hugging handshake in dating history. It was in fact, the correct choice on both counts, because it dropped them both into a real and comfortable laughter. The ice forever broken, in the most pleasant and stress relieving way.

      "A meet up!" Sara chirped, as she shivered in the biting wind of a fading February.

Braden had fumbled over a hastily mumbled, "Thanks for coming on this dae-van-foo good." The last syllables fell out at his feet with a resounding thud.

       "The technical term is meet up," Sarah rattled off again, throwing Baden a life preserver of sorts, for Braden's sinking start. He caught it, barely, and his indigo eyes locked unblinking with two iridescent sapphires. Her gaze teased out two very odd and different emotions in Brone, The first was a pulse quickening awe, and the second, a latent fear, as if staring paralyzed, into a vile of the most sweet and lethal poison. With three tics of the second hand, Abradon Brone was owned, and perfectly content to be, by Sara Elizabeth Dolion.

                                     ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

        There was a wait for two, as fate or fortune would have it. The Covid pandemic that had brought the country to an eerie pause, was slowly receding, and businesses were opening cautiously, as millions of quarantined Americans cracked doors and windows and recoiled, squinting into the colorless grey of a new day. Twenty Five minutes to shoulder awkward conversation about Pizza toppings, Exes, children, and relationship goals. The conversation was easy, and the companionship washed over the bare patches of their usual daily solitude.

Brone was taken back at his immediate calm with her. He cataloged every feature, and marveled at the voice. He noted how the words fell out of her rose pale lips with a languid sweetness. He was fascinated by her tiny, yet perfectly proportioned, doll like hands, that would rise and fall to her lap with each accentuated word. How Sara's demeanor was formally reserved, even cool at times, but her laugh was not forced or stifled. Edan took in the nuance of her face. How Sara's easy smile began as an imperceptible glimmer in the center of her eyes, and spread infectiously to the corners of her mouth, and each smile would be accompanied by a barely perceptible, almost bow of her head. Her hair was put up in probably the neatest messy bun ever concocted. It was a perfect crown neat, not terribly bold, but just enough to frame the rest of her delicate features. Braden thought hers a very Celtic face, a perfect oval shape, a slim modest  nose that simply existed in silence, beneath two of the most seductive eyes ever fashioned by the gods. Her ears were small and peeked out from beneath her gathered hair, almost elvin, to match almond shaped eyes. Helen of Troy flashed briefly in Brones mind, He was certain that Paris would have traded Helen for Sara, and happily fought the entire European continent, if she had been the prize. The restaurant was not crowded, in fact if was only about one third of its capacity. This due to the safe distance mandates brought about by Covid. This actually gave the dinner an air of serene intimacy, an unexpected silver lining in an otherwise dismal pandemic year. The only time Edan took a break from talking, was when paused to apologize for incessantly talking. He was like a starving dog, that when given food, will gorge itself to sickness. Edan may have actually run headlong through 35 complete and unabridged years of personal history, before their drinks made it to the table.

It was a Thursday, and it was the first day of the rest of their lives.