On March 15, I went on a date with Chris. You know what they say about the Ides of March. Actually, that has nothing to do with anything. It’s just a convenient way too keep track of the date.
The pretext was that Chris asked to see my photos from my recent trip to Italy. He’d ordered Italian food, bread, pasta, and even tiramisu for desert. He transformed the call room into a picnic of sorts– as if you can have a picnic in a hospital. After dinner we screencast my photos to the TV, and we toured Italy. Me for the second time in a month.
And I felt something. I’m not sure what it was. But after Jeremy. And James. And even Anton, spending the evening with Chris was a different.
We toured the Alps in Turin. And sailed the canals of Venice. Admired art in Florence and hiked villages in Cinque Terre. We made our way to Rome and ate our bodyweight in pasta, pizza, and gelato. Then we hopped a train down to Sorrento and Naples–birthplace of pizza.
And then Chris asked me the million dollar question “Why did you go alone?”
I’ve rehearsed this answer a million times. Is a question I get from nearly everyone.
“I’d rather go alone than never go at all. And I’m not going to sit by waiting for ‘someone’ to go with me.”
“But aren’t you worried?”
“About what? People? Travel? Being by myself. No, I’m not. I traveled 4 hours to see you. I’ll travel 9 to see David. Or eat gelato. Or see Mt. Kilimanjaro. There’s is a whole big world out there and I want to see as much of it as possible”
But Chris was hearing nothing I said.
“You drove 4 hours to see me?”
“Well, it’s 4 hours between here and there. And I live and work there. And what reason do I have to be here. Other than you”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh”
Chris looked at me. I looked everywhere except those green eyes of his.
“Eliza, …”
“Chris” we both spoke at the same time. I kept on “I have to go. I’ve already stayed too long. And it’s a 4 hour drive home.”
I gathered up my stuff and headed for the door. I reminded myself I was still in a hospital. I’ve already had one relationship begin and end within the confines of the hospital walls. This is how people get a certain kind of reputation. All these thoughts were going through my mind when Chris placed his hand on my shoulder, and as I turned around, he kissed me.
Soft and gentle at first, kinda questioning if this was the right thing. Then with a lot more urgency. probing, even.
A kiss can mean so many things. But what did this kiss mean. After 3 years of being co-workers and casual friends…after moving 250 miles away, dating in a new city, finding a job I really, really enjoy (and I’m good at!) NOW, TODAY is the day he decides to do something.
It was a really good kiss, though.
Sixpence None the Richer: Kiss Me
