This is a series detailing how I met him and how things began. If you missed the first story you can find it here.
Pullman, Wa. 1982
A shaded silhouette just outside the apartment kept its pace and could be seen through smoke laden curtains. Finally silence was broken with a knock at the door. I had been watching the thin figure as it made its way back and forth several times and now there he stood, the man from the previous day.
Sweaty hands left an imprint on the vinyl couch and loose hair flitted back and forth, masking a full view of the kitchen and entrance to the apartment. I fidgeted with a loose piece of material and tapped my fingers nervously, giving my sister the look that meant I was thoroughly annoyed. A repeat of the initial conversation was now whispered and gained volume with each syllable and expletive. My position had been clearly stated and left nothing more to be discussed.
He was handsome with olive skin and black curly hair, dark brown eyes and a black moustache made him look mature and self-assured. His thick accent and rudimentary language skills made hand gestures necessary but it was clear he was asking me out for a drink. He had borrowed a friends’ car and was waiting, it would be quick and harmless. It seemed ridiculous to continue protesting and it would make my sister and her boyfriend happy. One simple night out and life would then return to normal.
He drove to a nearby town where we sat for hours in the local hotel lounge. A polite and respectful exchange slowly drifted into intimate glances and eventually a tender press of his lips onto mine. He had a different way about him, doors opened, gentle words were spoken and an overall sense of a grounded person was presented. A reminder still tugged at my brain cautioning me to be guarded but I would not be deterred from following my heart.