A Blessing

He's been watching me for the last fifteen minutes or so.  I can see his gaze flit to my face from across the room every now and again as he talks and laughs with his group of friends.  I'm extremely flattered by his attention.  After all, I am almost thirty-six now and I know for a fact that no matter how much makeup I wear or how high my stilettos are, I no longer look like a twenty-something year old sex goddess (if I ever did-which is doubtful).  I'm trying to pay attention to what my friend Barbara is telling me (something about her daughter and the new boy she's dating), but I can't take my eyes off of the handsome man for long.


This is my cousin Sandy's birthday party and although she drives me up the wall, I made my yearly appearance out of familial obligation.  Besides, the food is quite good and the music is tolerable-much better than that crap that's been all over the radio recently.  So far I've avoided being coerced into conversation with her, so overall tonight has been a success.  I swear if I have to sit and listen to her prattle on about how smart and talented and PERFECT her bratty children are just one more time, I will start ripping my hair out.  Whenever she starts in on them, I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from telling her that I just saw her precious little angel just eat his own booger while the other one tried to pee in her antique vase.  But luckily Sandy's been tied up entertaining her theater friends she met over the summer.  They are all so artistic and graceful that Sandy fancies herself a star just by association with them.  She's trying to imitate their mannerisms and pretend that she can relate to them when I know very well that the last performance she was in was our elementary school Christmas pageant.  She was Shepard No 1 and was so upset by having to get up on stage and say her ONE line that she locked herself in the bathroom after the first half of the show and refused to come out until everybody had left.  She's making an ass out of herself now.  I can hear her fake laugh ring across the room as she finishes telling a story she believes to be terribly clever.  I try to block Sandy out and focus on Barbara again, but now I'm too distracted by how much Sandy irritates me-even when she's not speaking to me.


Over Barbara's shoulder I catch the man looking at me again.  We lock eyes and he gives me a playful grin, like he knows what I'm thinking and feels the same way.  I feel a little squirm in my stomach as I return a faint smile.  He is so good looking.  I don't know why he's paying attention to me.  He could probably pick up any woman he wants to; there are plenty to go for here.  This is a large party of about thirty people and there are several beautiful young things dressed to the nines, flaunting their expensive cocktail dresses and flashing their charming smiles at men who show appreciation.  And yet...he doesn't give any of them more than a passing glance.  He, with his red silk tie, silvery gray business shirt, black dress pants, and shiny black loafers, is looking at me-with approval no less.  The man is clean shaven with thick dark brown hair that carries just a hint of gray in it.  He is one of the tallest men among his group of friends and I can tell he takes good care of his body; there doesn't seem to be any fat on him and his arms seem muscular without being bulky.   As I watch him listening to an account of a daring adventure, or perhaps an unfortunate mishap, of one of the other men, I become entranced by his quick smile and his lively eyes that somehow hold compassion and mischief in them at the same time. 


"Helloooo!  Are you even listening to me?"  It's Barbara.  I've been less than attentive to her story and now she's obviously miffed about it.


"Sorry, go on," I say. "I just got distracted for a moment."


"Whatever," she replies, still hurt that I don't seem interested in her narrative.  "What do you keep looking at anyway?"  Barbara swivels in her chair, martini in hand, and looks over to the group of men chatting by the back wall.


I feel a blush heat up my face and neck.  "He keeps looking over her at me," I say, nodding to the individual in question.


Barbara looks at me skeptically and raises her eyebrow.  "You're silly, ya know that?"  This time her voice has softened with affection and I know she's forgiven me, like she always does.


"He's so handsome, don't you think?" I ask her wistfully.


She laughs, "Yeah, I guess so-what's with you all of a sudden?"


I shrug and go back to watching him.  He sees me looking and raises his glass to me with a charming grin that sends my heart to fluttering.


"Think you'll go home with him tonight?"  Barbara asks mischievously, wiggling her eyebrows at me suggestively. 


"Now YOU'RE being silly," I say, turning to her with a playful smile.


We sit and drink our martinis in companionable silence for a moment as the last song ends with a few final guitar strums.  Dancers near the speakers break apart and clap at its conclusion, as though the band were actually in the room playing just for them.  The first notes of the next song instantly perk me up.  It's my favorite song of all time-I'd recognize it anywhere!  Before I can hop down from my bar stool to make my way to the dance floor, I feel a tap on my shoulder.  I turn my head and am instantly flustered to see it is the attractive man from before.


"I love this song, will you dance with me?"  He tilts his head slightly to the side and gives me a lopsided smile, his eyes gleaming with hope and excitement.


I return his grin and nod vigorously.  He helps me down from the stool and takes my hand as he leads me to the dance floor.  I'm as nervous and giddy as a schoolgirl and I can't seem to get my heart to stop beating a mile a minute.  What in the world possessed this man to come over to ME?  To ask ME to dance with him?  Whatever it is, I'm grateful for it.  After the first song is over we stay out on the dance floor for a few more, caught up in the energy and excitement of the music.  I am a little lightheaded from his nearness but it feels great.  I'm on cloud nine!  Suddenly I don't feel a washed-out almost-thirty-six-year-old woman anymore.  I'm eighteen again and the cutest guy in school has just asked me to prom.  We are dancing whole-heartedly with no regard for the twenty-somethings all around us.  I don't care-I'm young again and I feel so alive!


The song ends just in time-I'm starting to breathe heavily and my side is threatening to cramp up.  I get out of breath easily because exercise is not at the top of my priority list (chocolate and trashy soap operas are, however, very near the top).  The song that's beginning to play is a slow one.  I've never heard it before but it has a great vibe to it.  I apprehensively glance up at my partner's face, afraid that he'll be looking away over the crowd, trying to find a friend that he can go talk to instead of dance again with me.  He's looking down at me with a sweet, almost caressing gaze, a soft smile playing at his lips.  I swallow and bite down on my lip in pleasure and nervousness as he closes the gap between us and puts his hand on the small of my back.  He pulls me to him slightly and takes my other hand in his.  There's barely any space between us now and the butterflies in my stomach are having a field day.  I place the hand that's not resting in his on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin seep through the fabric of his collared shirt.  I am very aware of his guiding hand on my back and I can feel my face getting hot again.


He leans his head in towards mine, placing his mouth centimeters from my ear to say, "You look absolutely gorgeous tonight.  I'm glad I get the privilege of dancing with you."  His breath tickles the hairs on my neck, sending shivers through my body.  Warmth spreads throughout every inch of me as I bask in his nearness and the deep rumble of his voice.  I never want this moment to end.  I am so happy right now that nothing, not even Sandy, could get to me. 


We pass the rest of the evening our own private world of bliss and understanding.  He makes me laugh with his stories and his witty observations and I make him smile with my snarky comments.  We share ideas about the world and talk about our hopes and dreams.  It's like I've found my soul mate.  Finally, here is someone who truly gets me-who truly sees me.  And I see him too, right to the core, and it's beautiful.  I can't believe I am this lucky.  I can't believe that I am being allowed to know this man and to enjoy his wonderful complexity.


At some point in our conversation, we decide it's time to leave this party and these people who keep us from just being US.  We get up from the couch we've been reclining on, sipping away at our drinks (mine a strawberry daiquiri and his an iced tea, since he'd been declared designated driver), to recover our belongings.  I grab my purse and he reclaims our jackets from the coat hanger by the door.  We say quick goodbyes to a few people and head as discretely as we can towards the exit and freedom.  Right before my escort can open the door, I hear Sandy call out to us from across the room.


"Goodbye Charlotte, bye John.  Say hi to the kids for me!"  I give her a tight lipped smile and promise her I will.  Then we are shrugging on our jackets and stepping out into the calm of the night.  He traipses lightly down the steps towards the car but I remain standing at the door of the house, just watching him.  When he notices that I'm not following he stops on the sidewalk at the bottom of the stairs and turns to look back up at me.


"Anything wrong?" He asks.  "Did you forget something?"


I stand in silence for a moment, studying the familiar landscape of his beloved face.  "I'm so happy you're my husband,"  I finally reply.


He beams at me and walks back up the steps, stopping on the one below mine.  "I praise God every day for blessing me with such a wonderful wife and such amazing children," he says, taking my hands in his.  "Lord knows I don't deserve it, but He saw fit to bless me anyway and I will never stop being grateful for it."  My husband reaches up and presses his palms tenderly to my cheeks before kissing me slowly and reverently.


When he finally pulls away, I touch my forehead to his and close my eyes, taking in the beauty of this shared experience.  After passing a few moments in silence I finally say, "Let's go home."