In The Meantime: He Was In Love With His Best Friend
Fast forward…
I reminisced the date night debacle, while waiting on the car for my current date. As Kevin promised the car was right on time. A black Lincoln town car drove up to my brownstone and a heavy set gentleman got out of the driver’s side and walked around to open the back door, for me. I walked down my steps and couldn’t help but feel a little like Cinderella.
Hopefully, there’d be no rapid diminishing of these nights, if things worked out between Kevin and I. The car drove through Brooklyn, over the same bridge that I’d been on when Kevin asked me out, and into the city. After a half an hour, we pulled up in front of a restaurant I’d walked past several times and admired, but never patronized. Kevin was waiting at the door; dressed even more debonair than the last time I’d seen him.
I greeted him, “Well, well comedian. You clean up nicely.”
He didn’t crack a smile, he took in my dress with a look of admiration, “So do you. You’re fine girl.”
We sat down in a small and cozy nook, in the back of the room. The waitress brought us menus and I glanced down to see what they had to offer.
Kevin watched me, from across the table, “The guy that owns this place is an amazing chocolatier. He’s a friend of my father. You can get your meal, but you must absolutely get dessert. He owns the place, but he makes all the desserts on his own.”
“Oh really? That sounds amazing. I’m impressed.”
“Oh. A brother did good huh?”
I put my menu down and smiled, “Yes you did.”
“I’ve got a bit of a confession.”
My eyebrow rose, “Okay…I’m listening.”
“I’m just a bank manager. Usually I don’t send cars for women. However, my cousin just started working for this limo service and he offered to help me out sometimes.”
I giggled, “So what you’re saying is…don’t expect this all the time. That’s cool.”
“Oh. You’re not mad? See that was me testing you. You did great.”
“Listen, I don’t care how you got the car. The gesture was sweet. Also, I had a 4.0 GPA. Don’t test me, I never fail.”
The conversation was great. We spoke about where he’d grown up and we laughed at my own childhood environment. He teased me about being a spoiled suburban only child and I cracked that I never had to share, as he did with his three siblings. Of course we eventually began talking about dreams…
He went first, “My grandfather left me a nice amount of money. I could really just chill for a while and not get serious, but my passion is education. Educating my community.”
I smiled, “I feel that. I’m an educator for a great non-profit in Harlem.”
“Oh really? Can I hear a little about that?”
“No. You first.”
“Alright…well. I have a dream of starting a ton of community centers throughout a huge sector of the most dilapidated part of the Bronx.”
He went on to describe a pipeline program that was incredibly similar to the one I was a part of. I was excited to give him a few ideas and tell him all that I’d learned.
When he finished explaining, I told him all about my work and the work of my mentors. He sat across the table; eyes wide open, taking all that I said in.
I finished, “We should definitely sit down, one day, and bounce ideas off of one another.”
He looked confused, “I thought you were a teacher.”
“I never said that. I said I was an educator. That can mean anything. However, I’m an administrator.”
“Oh, so you’re really good at all of this stuff. Hmmm. Good for you.”
Kevin looked as though I’d hurt or offended him. I rehashed the conversation, in my mind, and wondered if I’d said something wrong. He shifted uncomfortably, in his seat. He’d been quiet for about five minutes, while we fiddled with our meals.
I broke the silence, “Are you okay?”
He took a sip of his water, “Not really. I’m not comfortable with women who have too much responsibility.”
I looked at him confounded, “Excuse me?”
“I’m going to guess that you’re the type of woman that doesn’t need a man. You’ve got everything covered. Why even come on this date?”
What?
Come back next Tuesday for the next installment of the series!
“RivaFlowz” is an educator and professional writer living in New York City. You can follow her on Twitter: @rivaflowz or read more of her work on her blog.
