― Amy Neftzger
Normally, Mondays are a hazy, stumble-out-of-bed kind of day, slow to start and excruciatingly slow to end. But I looked forward to this day with hope because I was starting over in a new career and home.
It was kind of exciting with only one caveat―Gemma Granger. I prayed she wouldn't rain on my parade but let me have the joy of a first day.
Kate promised she'd come by and pick up Mollie for girls' day out. They'd spend the day together―Kate at the spa and Mollie at the groomers but meet later for lunch at the lake. They were The Inseparables―Two Amigos.
And what was I in this triptych? Chopped liver―the Expendable, or the proverbial fifth wheel on a go-cart heading downhill with no brakes?
Yep, that's me―not exactly an up-and-comer―more a downward moving mobile in the college social register.
I made coffee. What else can you do at an ungodly hour when the dew is still on the windows and the sun in your face?
My cynicism was all defensive.
I was afraid to rejoice, all because of Gemma Granger. Oh, I could be naively optimistic and be shot down in flames before the morning was half over, or saner heads could prevail and we'd be adult about it and laugh it off after as a silly misunderstanding, which it was―not that I'd fight her about it―just saying, to set the record straight in case she might dispute it.
Yeah, I think I protest too much.
Mollie finishes her bowl of kibble, something she hardly ever does―she keeps some until later in the evening when I'm get hungry and we enjoy a snack together.
But not today―no, she senses something and departs from our usual routine.
"I'm here,"Kate sings out as she enters the condo and Mollie's all over her as if she's a long-lost sibling, or is it more a sisterhood of girl power?
"How can you two be so exuberant this early in the morning?" I moan.
Kate's down on her knees with arms wrapped around Mollie's neck and Mollie's laughing it up, her tongue a flame, red as Marilyn Monroe's lipstick and her mane the same gold.
"Okay, you two, settle down―I can only take so much beauty and excitement at 730 in the morning," I smile.
"Oh this is nothing―wait until we get back from the spa―two golden girls, for sure―man-killers."
I put up my hands in mock surrender. "Puhlease! Don't use such language on a day when I confront Gemma Granger. You may jinx me."
"Or, maybe we should show up and give her the evil eye and hex her instead―yeah, that would serve her right."
I look at Kate and almost fall in love with her. I could see us doing this the rest of our lives--the ritual of waking up and coffee spoons...and the rest I have to put out of my mind.
"Do you want Coffee?" I ask.
"I want that," she smiles, "and so much more."
I freeze. How do I respond to this?
"I'm talking about the croissants you just heated up, Silly. Aren't you going to offer me some?"
"Oh yeah, sure."
That's not the only thing heated up, I muse inside my head.
She sits at the table with me, Mollie at her feet. It’s plain to see, the dog adores her.
“She’s not a dog,” Kate says suddenly.
“Huh?” I stutter, thinking she’s reading my mind.
“I said she’s not a dog, or at least doesn’t act like one. She’s really special, Si—but I guess you know that.”
“I do,” I admitted sheepishly, all the while thinking she's not the only one that's special. It feels so right the three of us, sharing breakfast, maybe sharing our lives.
My train of thought is interrupted by the shushing sound of the hallway elevator and a soft knock at the door.
"Looks like the movers have arrived," I tell her.
She nods and gulps the last of her coffee.
"Moll and I are going to leave you to it. We'll catch up later with you this afternoon. And don't forget about our dinner date tonight."
She leans in to give me a peck on the cheek, but misses slightly and brushes my lips.
The dark surprise in her eyes tells me it wasn't intended, but also shows it wasn't unpleasant. She colours slightly and then whispers, C'mon to Mollie and the two depart through the door, holding it ajar to admit the men waiting.
They both look back—she with a wistful glance and Moll with a quizzical stare.
I smile encouragingly but inside my head follow them out and see them in Kate's Lexus heading out for a day together and wishing I were with them.
I spend the next hour showing the men what to pack and what to leave—basically all my personal care items, a few refrigerator items, the coffee maker and all my electronics.
By 930 a.m. I'm sitting in the Hart House Grill having my second morning coffee as the T.A.'s at the next table check me out and whisper among themselves.
"Back at my table again?" a woman's voice calls from behind me and I turn and see Gemma Granger.
My heart sinks. "Oh, I'm sorry—I completely forgot. I have a lot on my mind today."
"I'm just joking," she laughs, "of course we can share the table...and the view," she adds, eyeing the giggling group of T. A.'s obviously gossiping about us.
"I want to apologize for the other day, " I tell her. "I didn't make a very good first impression."
She shakes her head. "Not your fault—I didn't let you. I didn't have a very good sleep that night and you reminded me of someone in my dream—I realized afterward."
"Was he that scary?" I asked.
"Not scary, but smooth and charming. Sometimes that can also be intimidating."
"That's what I've been told. I'm sorry."
"You can't help being a player."
My face fell.
"I'm kidding," she giggled. "You were a perfect gentleman and I owe you a cream cheese bagel and a bran muffin. I drove you away. I'm the one who should apologize."
"Let's both agree to share the blame," I laughed.
"Only if you let me buy you breakfast."
Eating two breakfasts was a small price to pay for burying the hatchet between us. Maybe this day was going to turn out better than I could ever have imagined...or dreamed.
And for some reason this whole situation seemed vaguely familiar, but I wasn't going to stop and analyze it—just go with the flow and hope there were no other unpleasant surprises.
Yes, maybe Mondays weren't so intimidating after all.