Storytime

After departing Natalie's company, I collected myself a beer and went to join Scott and Sarah Jean at the grill. I was rebuffed. “Go and mingle,” Scott declared.

“I would like to have an opportunity to defend myself,” I responded.

Scott gestured mightily. “Go!” I complied. Scott is a big fella. Sarah Jean giggled at me as I walked away. Whatever.

The backyard had pockets of conversation. The seating had been arranged in an attempt to keep everyone together but the group was too big for that to work. The group had splintered into a half-dozen or so smaller groups chit-chatting away. When I saw the man in the lawn-chair sheltering in the shade of a large tree, I approached him. Grinning, I noted “I thought you were allergic to the sun.”

Mike looked up from the plate balanced in his lap, squinting at me. “There's a reason I'm under the tree ya know.”

Our conversation started with this good natured silliness. We quickly ran through a few standard comments, the 'been awhile', the 'good to see you', the 'answer your email occasionally' sorts of things. Once these were complete, Mike observed “I see you're still with the redhead. Excellent choice my friend. Admittedly she's at a distance right now but she looks hotter than I remember.”

“I don't know how you remember her but she is hotter than that.”

“And yet she hangs out with a slug like you,” he teased.

“Yeah, I don't get it either,” I joked in response. “How goes the writing?”

He gave me a Look. “We start filming next week. Dude, read your email.”

“Really?” He nodded. “I'm sorry, I dunno how I missed that. Been busy.”

“I'm sure you have been,” he responded. “I would be. If you gotta skip some of my notes in order to be busy with her then I understand totally. I'll write more for you to skip! I'm not like that!”

I found his rant entertaining until Sarah Jean began bounding our way. At that point, it suddenly became less entertaining. For some reason, I was afraid she'd hear him, which was silly. If she wanted to, she could pick it out of my mind. In theory she could pick it out of Mike's mind but I don't think she'd go there again unless she absolutely had to do so. Her energetic pace combined with her sassy expression combined with her low cut shirt was too much for Mike to keep silent. “I mean, come on!”

Apart from turning her smug smile to Mike for a moment, she ignored him, keeping her focus on me. She stared at me long enough to make the situation a bit uncomfortable. Before I could prompt her, she stated “I know about Kitty Frou-Frou.” Her grin that much more smug, she bounded back to the chortling Scott.

“No no no!: I protested. “Not cool!” Mike died laughing. “Jerk.”

I suppose now you want to know the story too. Jerks.

Glad to Be Here

“Oh good, you made it.” Idly rubbing at my pinch, I turned to see it was Scott's wife Natalie talking to me. I greeted her warmly and there was the exchange of a hug. “How are you?”

“I'm well. Yourself?”

“Tired. There's always so much to do to get ready for these parties.”

“In that case, let me now express my gratitude for all your efforts before I forget.”

She smiled. “Thank you.” She paused, watching her husband animatedly telling Sarah Jean a story. Sarah Jean was laughing, not one of those polite laughs but an 'oh my goodness, really?' sort of laugh. Whatever the story, I'm sure it's about me. “I'm glad he's enjoying himself. He's working very hard at work right now. The company says it's having trouble and...” She paused, then dispelled this downward trend in the conversation with a smile. “He deserves a good day. I'm glad you could make it.”

I smiled back. “So am I.”

Arrival

By the time we reached Scott's house, she had mostly relaxed. At the very least she was smiling at me again and gave my arm a bit of a squeeze as we approached the house. I know she knows I meant well.

We had to park a couple houses down the street  due to the cars already present. As we walked up, the wind shifted, delivering the wonderful smell of burning charcoal and grilling meats. It was wonderful enough to draw a contented sigh from me. At the very least, we should eat well.

There was still a hint of nerves within me. What would my friends think of Sarah Jean? What would she think of them? More importantly, what would they tell her about me?

We weaved through the vehicles in the driveway, heading for the backyard as I'd been directed during Scott's call. The garage door was open, displaying tables of food as well as coolers that were overflowing with ice and beverages. Alongside the garage was a large grill and Scott working at it.

Upon seeing us, he grew very animated. Loudly calling out my name, he ran to meet us. I was wrapped up in a bear hug that took me off my feet. For a moment I was unable to breathe. Thankfully he didn't keep me long and I was soon back on the ground. While gasping for oxygen, I managed to introduce Sarah Jean. “Man o man,” Scott expressed. “Patrick may not date much but he sure does pick pretty gals when he does.”

I winced. It was starting already. Scott's seen me with, what, all of two young ladies and he says that. Considering how I'd managed to irritate Sarah Jean, I expected trouble. She smiled brightly up at him. “That you Scott. That's nice of you to say.”

He waved this off and made a dismissal noise. “Get some food and something to drink and I'll tell you about this guy.”

I sighed audibly, mostly for effect. “And I regret showing up already.”

Scott chuckled. Sarah Jean gave me that trouble grin and mentally noted “He's in a good mood, happy to see us, and has just enough beer in him to elevate his mood. He'll tell me whatever I want to know.”

“And if they're serving wine, you'll tell him whatever he wants to know.” I meant it to be funny, but I think it came across as more bitter than I expected. Still smiling, she stepped over to me, and kissed me on the cheek as she punched me on the arm. After I yelped, she mumbled “Behave” and, still grinning, joined Scott at the grill.

Ouch. Such a violent young lady.

Me and My Big Mouth

The weekend did not start well. The original plan was for Sarah Jean to arrive Saturday afternoon, we'd spend some time together doing whatever, go to Scott's party on Sunday, and she'd leave early Monday that she could do some stuff at home with her friends. I managed to talk my way out of attending her Monday event by pointing out that I was scheduled to work on Tuesday and offering to attend the next holiday type even by her. Sarah Jean has access to trans-continental craft as well as a generally more open schedule so it's easier for her to visit me than me her. While she could have taken me home with her Monday and gotten me back that night, she'd end up missing out on too much by ferrying me around.

We had a good plan, until she got delayed by work and didn't make it to Milwaukee until Sunday morning. She was able to inform me of the delay so I wasn't worried about her in that regard. If she hadn't been able to make it at all, it's not as if I still couldn't go to the party. The problem was only that  I had been looking forward to seeing her on Saturday so the delay made me miss her that much more.

You would think that, since I missed her so, I'd just be happy to see her when she arrived Sunday morning and all would be well. Looking back I'd think that as well. I certainly should have been. I must have been agitated over missing her or nervous about mixing her with my old friends or something because she was barely in the house for five minutes before I went and said something stupid. Yes, I know, I lasted as long as five minutes before doing something dumb, a new record. Ha ha.

“You're not going to wear that, are you?”

Why did I suddenly care? Friend Patrick wouldn't have said anything. Friend Patrick would have just smiled, walked around grinning like an idiot, gone to the party, snickered with his buddies, and gone home again. So why did Boyfriend Patrick have to say something? I'm not sure.

Maybe it was concern about how her style would reflect on us. Maybe it was some sudden concern about what people would think of me, something I thought I'd successfully dismissed. Maybe I was concerned about how it would make her look and I meant to help. Maybe I just figured she'd hear me think it and I should just get it out of the way now. All I know is that the words slipped out and I immediately regretted saying them.

Sarah Jean gave me a Look. “Why?” It was not a question asked with sweetness and wonder; it was a question asked with menace and threat.

I had started this fight, accidentally perhaps but I had started it. I had no good answer to her demand for information. It wasn't as if my good-natured sweetheart had arrived dressed in garb more suitable for an exotic dancer or a bondage queen. Nor was she over or under dressed for the gathering or the weather, so I couldn't really blame my comment on that, although in retrospect I really should have done. “It's just a little on the tight side,” I tried to note in a light, casual, friendly way.

Sarah Jean's expression grew hotter and colder at the same time, a truly impressive sight if not focused upon you. “Are you trying to say I'm putting on weight?”

This threw me for a loop. If I wasn't fumbling and backpedaling before, I certainly was now. That was not what I was trying to say at all. I tried to express myself but managed only fragments of speech.”No. What? Huh?”

She folded her arms. “What are you trying to say Patrick? Spit it out, no thinking it.”

“I know my friends and I know how we react to women and I'm just concerned that they'll enjoy your company in the wrong way.”

She observed me for a moment. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Just trying to look out for me?”

“Yes.”

“You should have said that.”

“Yes.”

Slowly her arms unfolded and the intensity faded. “Okay. I can believe that.”

“I mean, I want to show you off to my friends but I don't want to 'show you off' to my friends,” I tried to explain.

“I got it. You can stop now.”

“Good, good.” We headed for the door. I caught a different angle of her as I opened the door. “You know, that shirt's a little low cut.”

That's when she hit me. I have have deserved that. Maybe not.

It's Agreed

As it turned out we had nothing planned for the Sunday afternoon of Scott's party. That did not necessarily mean that Sarah Jean was keen to go. “It's nothing against your friend,” she reassured. “I'm sure he's nice. I just won't be comfortable. I won't know anybody.”

“You'll know me,” I noted helpfully.

“You know what I mean,” she exasperatedly responded.

I was politely confused. “You're such a friendly, outgoing person that I didn't think it would be an issue.”

“That doesn't mean I can't be shy sometimes,” she protested.

“Are you scared to meet my old friends?” I teased.

“Were you scared to meet mine?” she countered.

I considered that concept. “Not really but I probably should have been.”

“See?”

I pushed onward. “It'll be fun. Besides we won't have to stay long if you're uncomfortable.”

“You just want to show me off to your friends,” she declared.

I had a clever response to that comment. “Well duh.”

An Invitation

“Dude, what're you doing for Memorial Day?” I pondered Scott's question for a moment. Should I be doing something that weekend? Do I need to be doing anything that weekend? I'm horrible at remembering my personal schedule. As a result, I said that I'd have to check with Sarah Jean.

“Who's that?” When I responded that she was my girlfriend, which still sounds weird to say for some reason, he reacted with surprise. “Really? Good for you man. Was starting to think Heather messed you up too much. Not that you didn't like girls or anything like that, just that you maybe didn't trust 'em anymore or somethin'. Know what I mean?”

I assured him that I did. “Alright then. You check with her and stop by if you can. You know where the home is now. It'd be nice to see you again, especially if you have a pretty gal with you. Then I don't haveta look at your ugly mug so much.”

I laughed at his joke and he chuckled knowing that I wasn't offended. How could I be offended? Sarah Jean's much easier to look at than me. I see myself in the mirror all the time and it's not at all interesting a visage. “Alright boss, see ya soon.”

What Do You Mean, Sarah Jean Who?

Chris was pondering this information. “Have I met this young lady?” I gave him a strange look. They'd met many times before, mostly at my house. After reminding him of that fact, he exclaimed “Oh, that Sarah Jean.”

I raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You thought I might know two redheaded young ladies with the somewhat unique name of Sarah Jean?”

Chris remained calm of voice but distressed in expression. “It should come as little surprise that I am not terribly familiar with what passes for popular names these days. My focus is elsewhere.”

“It's not like I'm dating a child here,” I protested.

“To me she might as well be,” he informed. “My perspective on such matters is different from yours. At my age you are but a babe yourself. Are you even thirty yet?”

“Soon enough,” I bemoaned.

“Yes, well, get back to me when you crest one hundred. We'll discuss age again at that point,” he expressed. After I teased him about being crotchety tonight, he admitted it was so. “I may well not be the best of company at the moment. Julia has not been well of late, nothing serious mind, but she has needed some time off from duties to recuperate. The tear in reality proved to be most distressing. I am not quite sure I've recovered from that circumstance.” Out of concern and curiosity, I asked for more detail on his reality tear story but he waved me off. “I fear I have no tale of action as you do Patrick. I was physically aware of the rend. It pulled and tore at me in a significant manner. Most distressing.”

“I'm sorry I didn't check on you sooner. I didn't know,” I apologized.

“I did not wish the information to become public while I was laid low so that my enemies might consider taking advantage.”

“There is that,” I agreed. “Still I could have brought you the vampire equivalent of chicken noodle soup or something.”

Chris smiled. “A kind offer but I think you would consider the 'vampire chicken soup' rather unpleasant.”

He's probably right.