The Masters

Chapter 12- Turner

Chapter 12- Turner

            “So this was fun… right?” I said slowly as I walked her up the front walk of Jennifer’s house.  I was anxious for her answer because this date had to be different from any other she’d been on. 

            “It was definitely interesting,” she nodded, rubbing the inner crook of her elbow.  “I’m sure you’ve never had to take a girl to the emergency room before, have you?”

            “No,” I laughed nervously, shaking my head, “this was definitely a first.”  I had planned the perfect date for Catherine.  I didn’t make it seem like I was trying too hard, but I wanted her to know that I cared.  After picking her up, I drove to a small meadow just at the edge of town.  It was a place where every male in my family took girls on first dates.  It was a family tradition to set up a picnic table in the middle of the meadow and hang twinkling lights on the scaffolding my oldest ancestor, from the original founding family, built for his wife on their first anniversary.  I’d never taken anyone there before, but Daniel married the one and only girl he’d brought to the meadow as did my dad’s brothers, my elder cousins, and as far as I knew every other one of my ancestors.  The spot brought good luck to our family, but it wasn’t as kind to me as it was to my relatives.  

            “I’m really sorry about that,” Catherine mumbled, tugging my jacket around her arms to shield her from the gust of wind that passed. 

            “It really isn’t your fault.  I mean, you didn’t know you were allergic to saffron.”  I’d ordered the perfect meal from one of the restaurants in town, thinking all the food in town would be safe, but I was wrong.  An hour into the date, Catherine decided to try the saffron rice, after much hesitation, but after she swallowed her first bite and decided there was no difference between regular rice and saffron rice, she started having a hard time breathing. 

            “Luckily you knew what was happening because I had no idea.  I probably would have died if you didn’t have that EpiPen.”  We stopped right in front of the door and she turned to me, “what are you allergic to?”

            “I’m allergic to citrus,” I confessed.  It was the most frustrating allergy.  I could never have lemonade stands with my friends when I was little or have lemonade on a hot summer’s day or drink orange juice.  And on top of all of that, I always had to specify to leave citrus juice or zest out of dishes when we went on vacation.  Waiters and waitresses always looked at me like I was some entitled kid, even when I told them it was an allergy, so I always had to carry an EpiPen just in case. 

            “Seriously?  That sucks!  I don’t know what I would do if I were allergic to citrus.  I practically live on lemonade and orange juice.”  She was trying to keep herself from laughing at my unfortunate allergy, but she failed terribly.  “I’m sorry; it’s not funny that you’re allergic to citrus.  I just, I can’t believe you’re allergic to something so common.”

            “It is totally fine,” I assured her, softly placing my hand at her upper arm.  “Laughing at my allergy is nothing compared to me almost killing you on our first date.”

            “But look at it this way, you know something about me that no one else knows about,” she whispered, poking my chest when she spoke.  “And you are also the first person to almost kill me.”

            “That’s not fair!  I didn’t mean to.  I’m sorry I didn’t know.”  Under any other circumstance and with any other girl, I probably would have been faking my concern, but I felt really guilty for putting Catherine in the hospital.  I genuinely cared about her and my first date with her was a disaster.