Shy Charlotte’s Brand New Juju (Romantic Comedy) (12 page)

She laughed. “I am not familiar with ‘boob sling tops.’”

“That might not be what they are called in your country.”

“I can’t imagine they would be called that in any country.”

“Dresses…you know what I am speaking about. With the…uh,
with the cleavage showing. They are very sexy. And the high heels. See. You
need to know you are sexy. And you need to dress sexy. That will help your
confidence. What is that thing you are wearing? Is it even made for a woman?”  

Actually, it was Caleb’s sweatshirt, but she wasn’t going to
tell him that. She loved borrowing his huge hoodies. She would always get him
one for Christmas and then she usually ended up commandeering it at some point
during the year. This one, she’d had for a decade. It was her favorite. “I just
thought I might be cold on the drive,” she said. “Don’t worry. I won’t wear it
inside the restaurant.”

He frowned at her.

“But, look. I put black junk on my eyes, and…” She wiggled
her finger behind the dangling earrings she had chosen. “I accessorized.”

He sighed.

“Clearly, you don’t know what a big deal it is for me to
accessorize. It doesn’t happen. Ever.”

“Okay, Yes. I am highly honored.” Still he did not look at
her.

He stopped the car along Second Street and slid it parallel to
the other cars in one practiced swoop. She wriggled out of the sweatshirt
before he opened the door on her side, and then he pulled her from the car’s depths.

Now that she saw the restaurant, she did wish that she had
worn heels and not these floppy ballet flats. It was a historic brick building,
the entry flanked by stone columns wrapped in spiraling white twinkle lights.
“Arturo’s” was spelled in calligraphic script across the masonry. 

Leopold motioned for her to lead as they entered. The tinkle
of laughter floated from the bar and a hostess with reflective blonde hair
minced up to them. She put her arm straight on Leopold’s bicep. “Leopold! So
wonderful to see you this evening,” she said, in an accent that matched his
own, and he reached out his hand to her. She placed her fingertips in his palm
and he swept it to his lips. Then he turned and floated his hand on Charlotte’s
lower back, sending tiny shivers down her legs and a warm fluttery feeling in
the pit of her stomach that quite surprised and unnerved her. She felt
conspicuous suddenly, like she was way too large. Was it the formality of the
restaurant? The fact that she may very well be on a date, without her husband?

Mirror Hair turned to Charlotte. “I don’t think we have had
the pleasure.” She cupped her hand and held out her fingers, and so Charlotte
took her hand, as well, completely unsure what to do. The woman just grinned and
swooped in close, as though for a kiss. Ah, one of these European air kisses,
Charlotte thought, so she made a smacking sound the way she had seen in movies,
“Mwah,” but then she felt the woman’s lips on her face. Was she supposed to
kiss, too? Was she messing this up? And then the woman went to do the other side.
Oh, good God. What on earth? How awkward. “Mwah,” she said again, and Charlotte
felt her face flush. She wished she had worn a black top. Or kept Caleb’s
sweatshirt on. This light blue blouse would have pit stains on it in a moment.
Tabitha’s voice rang through her mind,
“You are so uncool, Charlotte.”

Mirror Hair and Leopold were standing back and looking at
her and saying something to one another in Polish— she could only imagine what—and
then Mirror Hair showed them to their table.

Charlotte took a deep breath. She had left the house in such
a hurry that she hadn’t used the bathroom, and she really needed to. Really,
really. But she could wait. Because after the air kiss fiasco, she didn’t want
to ask Mirror Hair where it was. She could never remember what to say in a
place like this. Was it the restroom? The powder room? She knew it wasn’t the
Little Girl’s Room. A whole table of ladies had burst into laughter when she
had said that one time.

Okay, they were nearly at the table now. She would simply
watch the other women in the restaurant to see where they excused themselves
to, and then, once she and Leopold had ordered, she would excuse herself.

As they made their way through the restaurant, four or five
other patrons raised their glasses to Leopold and their eyebrows at her. What
were they assuming? Oh goodness. She needed a cocktail. What should she order?
Would they order wine with dinner? Or was Leopold more of a beer man?

Mirror Hair pulled out a chair for Charlotte and waited for
her to settle herself. Then she unfurled a carefully folded napkin and spread
it across her lap before handing her a leather bound menu. She did the same for
Leopold, smiling at him warmly and rubbing his back. Was she a client of his,
as well? Before the night was through, she vowed, she would work up the nerve
to ask Leopold about this other rumored business of his.

A woman with a swingy brown ponytail, ample breasts and long
feathery earrings approached the table. Her lips were red and full and
Charlotte had a vision just then. This woman and Caleb. It was she. From the
office. It couldn’t be. She shook her head. Caleb was here for the summer to
get
her
back. To woo
her.
He wouldn’t have brought his
girlfriend. Would he? Were they still together? Was he taking her for a fool?
Her stomach flopped and she felt sick.

“Anything from the bar this evening?” the woman was asking.

 “Ha! You must be new here.” Leopold chuckled in a choking,
halting way. “I do not drink alcohol. It is poison.”

The woman dipped her chin, unfazed. She turned to Charlotte.
The woman didn’t seem to recognize her, but it was she. It had to be. “And for
you?” Charlotte’s heart was beating fast.

“Filtered water, please,” Leopold said, with a quick lift of
his head.  “With lemon, for us both.”

It arrived, moments later, in a chilled carafe, and, Leopold
poured it carefully, first into her glass and then into his own. The sound of
it, so crisp and pure. Wow. She really needed to pee. She looked up. Surely the
ladies room was near the bar. That’s where it always was, right? She would just
watch for another moment to see if she could see another woman walking that
direction. She just needed to calm down and take a sip of water. She raised the
glass to her mouth and took a sip. And that’s when she saw him. Caleb. Right
there at the bar. Talking to that waitress. It
was
her. She was sure of
it now.

As soon as Charlotte saw him, she choked a bit and then she
tried to duck her head, so he wouldn’t see her and when she did so, the water
rushed down her windpipe. She tried to be subtle, but the panic got the best of
her. Her arms began to flail about.

 “Oh, ha, I understand,” Leopold said, resting his menu on
the table and leaning back. “For me, alcohol is poison. For you, water is the
poison. Funny, Charlotte. Being poisoned by the water now?”

She shook her head and grabbed around her throat. Leave it
to her to drown in a cup of water. A mere sip. She was trying desperately not
to make a commotion, but, also, she was trying not to die.

Leopold jolted back from the table. His chair scraped and
squeaked across the hardwood and the restaurant went silent. Titters. A gasp or
two.

“Do you need the Heineken remover?” he was saying.

God. He really had something against beer.

 Oh! The
Heimlich maneuver
. She nodded yes, still
gripping at her throat, but she didn’t really know what she needed. Was she
drowning, choking, what? And then Leopold was standing behind her and he was
grabbing at her, but he grabbed too low. Right on her bladder. She knew it
instantly, and when he did, water squirted out of her mouth, and,
simultaneously, she felt a warm trickle down her leg. She tried to motion Leopold
to stop. That she was okay know. But he kept squeezing and so she kept right on
peeing.

Someone began to clap, then, and all at once the restaurant
was clapping and people were slapping Leopold on the back and Charlotte sank
into her seat, not knowing what else to do.

She had just peed in the nicest restaurant in town. Thank
the Lord she hadn’t worn a dress.

Had Leopold noticed?

He was smiling as he sank back into his own chair. He shook
his head at her. “Own it, Charlotte,” he said. “You just looked death right in
the head, and you beat it. That is what all of these people are noticing. Not
the dribble on your chin.”

Okay. He didn’t mention the dribble anywhere else. Maybe he
hadn’t seen. Still, her face burned hot. “Can we go somewhere else?”

“Oh, no way.  Are you joking with me? I am the hero here.”

The waitress came over and began to stroke Charlotte’s back.
It was all she could do not to push her hand away. Not to stand up and walk
out. The woman’s voice was soft and kind. Her breasts were so large, the real
kind. Caleb probably didn’t have any kind of issue with those. She felt sick. “I’ll
give you a few more minutes to look over the menu.” A maitre’d came by to offer
them a new table, but, not wanting to stand up just then, Charlotte shook her
head no. “Very well,” he said, and he snapped his fingers. A young man came
over with a fresh rag and daubed at her puddle of spit on the table.

Charlotte glanced back to where she had seen Caleb. He was
gone. She couldn’t blame him. He wouldn’t want to be spotted. There. With his
girlfriend.

That’s when Leopold’s chest began to shake. He was laughing
in great, rolling snorts. “So, now that the shock has worn off, Miss Charlotte,
you have to admit this was funny. This was…how do you say?
Hilarious
.”

Charlotte drew her lips tight against her teeth. At least
she didn’t have to pee anymore.
I wonder if he’ll think it’s so hilarious once
he realizes I have to go home sitting on that buttery upholstery of his.
 

Say what she would about Caleb, he would have taken her
home. And then he would have waited at least a week before he asked her to
laugh about it.

“There is never a dry moment with you around.” Leopold said.

She glared at him. “Dull moment.” God!

“Yes. Never a dull moment. Whether you’re passing out or
vomiting water.” Leopold’s voice had one volume. Loud. And when he was excited,
it dialed up still higher.  

“That’s great. Okay, let’s keep our voices down.”

People were beginning to return to their conversations, but
some of women had begun sending shy smiles her direction. She wondered how many
people would come in to Fiona’s salon tomorrow and tell her all about it.

“When something like this happens, you do not need to disappear
into yourself,” Leopold continued.

Oh goodie. He was going to give her advice. That’s what the
situation called for. The Confidence Coach. If this weren’t humiliating enough,
she would be treated to an audible life lesson. And, with the way he was going,
so would the rest of Arturo’s patrons.

“You can own it. People will respond to you the way you expect
them to respond. If you are embarrassed, they are embarrassed.  But if you
are confident…if you hold your head high, it is better for everyone. You teach
people how to treat you.”

Should she teach him a lesson in how to properly administer
the Heimlich Maneuver?

Leopold continued. “And now we need to discuss the next
segment of your training.”

Here it comes.

“I have registered you for a race.”

“A race? What kind of race.”

“A running race.”

“Yikes.”

“It is the most magnificent way to train. You will learn accountability.
Hard work. Determination.”

“So, what, like a marathon?”

He began to laugh again. “No, no, Miss Charlotte. You could
not run a marathon. Not yet. I will be running the marathon. You will be
running the 10K.”

She looked at him blankly, and he shook his head. “Just over
6 miles.”

“Oh.”

“It will be good for your confidence. Trust me.”

“Did you ever make Fiona run any races? When you were
working with her?”

He moved his head back and let out a chortle. “No.”

“Why should
I
, then?”

“Fiona needed a different kind of confidence than you need.”

“Oh.” Charlotte considered this. “I need the kind you can
get from races?”

His bravado and his bossiness were making him infinitely less
attractive to her. He really should have let her order a cocktail. He continued
on (and on) about all the ways he had been changed by his racing experiences.

When they had finished their meal, which she had to admit
was devastatingly delicious considering it was comprised primarily of
vegetables, Leopold tipped their busty waitress a clean, crisp one hundred
dollar bill. Charlotte really wished he hadn’t, but it was probably the right
thing to do, considering what had happened there.

She imagined their waitress stopping by the liquor store on
her way home to Caleb, choosing a vintage merlot (even though his favorite was
pinot noir, but she probably didn’t even know that), and then relating the story
of Charlotte’s humiliation as she and Caleb chortled and sipped, sipped and
chortled.

Leopold maneuvered his car from its parking space and, once
he was zipping down Second Street, he turned to her, his brow wrinkled.  

“I had an amazing time with you this evening, Miss
Charlotte.”  

“What was the best part for you exactly,” she asked, trying
to smile. “Was it the choking?”

He grinned back at her, an expression that was genuine and
kind. “No, it is because you are fun. You make me laugh. Also, I think you
learned something.” He paused for effect, a little too long, in her opinion. “Something
terrible happened to you, and you did not die. You kept on moving. You kept on
keeping on.”

She lowered her head.

 “Is that the expression? ‘Keep on keeping on?’” His
forehead lifted. “Did I get it right?”