Michael's Story (part 6)
Cheryl Marie was a lovely girl I met in Cincinnati a number of years ago. Sadly, her life was cut short when she was hospitalized and died from pneumonia acquired there. This story is exactly as she wrote it, except for a few spelling and grammatical corrections. I publish this in fond memory of her – I only wish she had lived to see it published.
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Andre's was bright and cheery. Fun, multi-colored wall art and wallpaper with soft colors. Youngish and attractive waiters and waitresses. About 2/3 full and redolent with aroma of contemporary Italian. Animated conversation filling the space. It was mixed but mostly straight. As usual I tried to avoid direct eye-contact, but from the corner of my eye, I could see the usual number of quizzical looks, but nothing off-putting. After all, they were not there to look at me, but do their own thing, and after a few seconds, that is what they did. I always entered a place like this with a smile and a casual look and demeanor that proclaimed that I BELONGED here. There was only one person here in whom I had even remote interest.
Michael was already seated. He appeared to be totally absorbed in the draft brief with his inevitable red pen scribbling all over it. But miraculously also seemed to notice me as soon as I rounded the corner. He did not even glance at his watch. "True class", I thought.
His face betrayed instant recognition and a warm friendly smile. As I approached in my very best feminine glide (which was more like an old plane landing in heavy air turbulence!), he rose and said, "How very nice to meet you Ms. Cheryl!". That winning smile put me instantly at ease, as did his greeting.
My reply was unrehearsed, "And nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Michael!" My smile matched his.
"Does it feel weird to you to see me like this?", I asked as I slid into the booth. "Are you sure you are comfortable?"
"I feel fine about this, Car ... errr ... Cheryl". He burst out laughing. "It will take some getting used to calling you by your first name", he sputtered.
"Why would you have to?" I responded. "After all, I would think that this will be the rare or even sole occasion where you will be seeing me as Cheryl versus Carl."
Hell!! Why did I say that? I thought. Or was I instinctively playing it cool?
"Yeah, I guess you are right, Cheryl." He responded cooly. "But I have to admit that seeing you this way is ... well ... interesting! I can sense that you seem more yourself, even after being with you for a matter of minutes. As a friend, it's nice to see you feeling so natural. And as the way you like to be."
"Michael, you are a rare bird indeed." I shot back softly. "Rare, in a nice way! But we better order and see what sorts of questions you have with the current drafts. "
How was my cool working girl act playing, I wondered. And what organization gave Oscars for best performance by a lead tranny at a working lunch? I mused further.
To punctuate our migration to professional endeavors, I donned my "other" glasses that Michael had never seen. The ones with the purplish-frames. Very stylish and unmistakeably femme. I couldn't miss Michael's bemused smile and my purposeful act of professional decorum. I wasn't sure if my own face betrayed a hint of the smile that I felt within.
I was very grateful for the diversion of the work portion of the lunch. It rescued me from either a complete melt-down or an embarrassing episode of the giggles. Michael's kind words had gone to my core and I was feeling quite a glow, feeling an affirmation more powerful than any I could remember. I tried to stifle the glow, and whether or not it came through to Michael I could not divine. Part of me hoped like hell that it did. And a huge part of me hoped that it didn't.
The review of the brief was easy enough. We smoothed out a few rough spots in the analysis. Michael had a skill in asking just the right questions to sharpen my legal analysis and presentation. Whatever else we had going on, or not going on, we enjoyed a remarkable professional symbiosis.
I was still munching on my greek salad (a small one!) and trying to stifle my craving for the yummy warm bread when we completed the review. The papers were out of sight when a couple of lattes arrived amidst desultory small talk.
I was savoring the moment and thought I sensed something similar within Michael.
Then his mood shifted slightly. An uncharacteristic hint of awkwardness came over him.
"Cheryl," he began, "There is something really special happening tonight that I thought you might enjoy."
"Oh?" I responded.
"Yes. Rory Block will be performing in Dayton at a small blues venue. Perfect place to catch her and feel the full force of her intensity. A rare opportunity." He explained innocently enough.
I forgot all artiface and replied eagerly. "Oh my! You know how much I idolize her! Are you planning to go?"
He paused and continued, "... well ... yes. And ... uhhh ... I was wondering if you would like to go with me. You know. One blues fanatic to another! And who wants to go alone? "
My eagerness was unabated and genuine "I'd love it! But why would you be going alone? Where will Celeste be?"
Another pause and then he continued, "Celeste is OK with the blues but doesn't share the depth of my obsession. Besides, she decided to spend the week with her sister, Dorothy, up in Chicago. Enjoying the shopping, salons and all and just catching up."
I laughed and said, "Hey guy, that ain't all bad. I could go for a heapin' helpin' of that! Actually Patti and I have made that pilgrimage. But even that couldn't trump hearing Rory live and up-close!"
He went on, "That is what makes you so different."
Was he stifling an impulse to say more?
Then he continued, "But it is not all shopping fun. There is also a bit of soul-searching going on."
He left it there realizing he may have said a bit too much. And of course I did not pry, although sensing he wanted to say more. The distant melancholy in his voice was quite apparent. There was no way I could not disregard all of the possible meanings in this tidbit of information.
There was another brief pause and I spoke up, "Michael are you sure you are comfortable with this?"
He recovered and brightened, that wit never far from his consciousness, "Hell yes, dahlink," he said with corny exaggeration ... corny but just the right touch to break the tension. He went on, "Hell, Carl ... oops! ... it's just two colleagues enjoying their shared love of music and an exceptional performer."
"You do know that I will be going as Cheryl?" I made sure.
"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "Let's just do it and enjoy the evening."
"I know a great family-style Italian restaurant for dinner. Shall I pick you up at your place at 5?" He responded?
He did know Dayton much better than this new girl in town.
"Dinner? Well sure as to both!" I said, grasping the implications. "Sounding better and better! But at least let me pay for that." I continued.
He brushed it aside, "No way! But you can pick up a drink or two at the club!"
"Some counter-offer counselor! All you drink is bottled water! But its a deal!" I replied catching the good humor or it all.
Then he said in sincerity, "Intense blues is my tonic! Yours too!"
–––––––––––––––––––– To be continued ...
Feel free to contact me with your comments or requests. –Bill (oral_guy_2000@yahoo.com)
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