Uncertainty
“I would thank you for escorting me to my car, but now that it turns out you were heading in the same direction, I’m not sure if that’s still appropriate,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.
Arthur laughs out loud. “Well, Charlotte, I tried to act like a gentleman for once and when I do it, it’s not appreciated. I’ll remember that, the next time we run into each other, I will definitely not offer it again.” He pauzes.
“No, jokes aside… Charlotte, I really enjoyed getting to know you tonight. Thank you for this lovely evening. I hope we run into each other again soon.” He winks.
I open the car door, take a step toward Arthur, and give him a firm hug and a kiss on his cheek. “I hope so too,” I say, holding onto the door.
Arthur walks toward his car. As soon as he reaches the driver’s side, I get in and close the door.
I feel nauseous. Was I too reserved? I turn the key into the ignition. The engine starts. I drive off the parking lot and see Arthur doing the same in my rearview mirror. I turn right, he turns left. I wave once more in the middle of the car—maybe he’ll see it. On the drive home, I replay everything we talked about that evening, dwelling on the silly jokes I made and the vague answers I gave from time to time.
Why didn’t I just enjoy this wonderful evening carefree, to the fullest? If I never see him again after tonight, at least I could have lived it with a true carpe diem feeling. That must be better than trying to leave a good impression, just in case he might actually be interested in a date… or two.
Speaking of which—there is no date. THERE IS NO DATE.
My feeling after that last dance was completely justified. A man who wants something acts on it, right?
“Aaaargh!” I shout, hitting the steering wheel with both hands.
Once home, I toss my bag with dance shoes aside.James, my dearest four-legged friend, greets me enthusiastically. “You wouldn’t want to be without me, would you, my best friend?” I say as we exchange a thousand and one cuddles.
I kiss James on his head and go upstairs. My feet hurt—I collapse onto the bed. “Aaaah… heaven.”
The next morning, I wake up to scratching at the door. James either wants to go outside or, he’s hungry. I sit up and, to my surprise, I’m still wearing my red dress. I must have been too tired to change.
First things first—I throw the red dress, the red shorts, my bra, and underwear into the laundrybasket. The amount of sweat that went through them… not pretty. My feet hurt from yesterday—the kind of pain that comes from walking eight hours in 8 cm stilettos. It feels like my feet can’t properly touch the ground anymore. Still, I try. Ouch.
I put on a pair of sweatpants and go downstairs.
“Jaaaames!” I greet him while grabbing his food bowl from the cupboard.
James devours his food and sprints outside. I turn on the kettle, grab some honey, a tea bag, and follow him into the garden.
It’s already ten in the morning. A beautiful sun shines into my kitchen. I sit down in my gardens’ most cozy corner with my cup of tea and enjoy the soft warmth on my face. My thoughts take me back to yesterday. I feel overwhelmed by both joy and disappointment.
Happy that I got to experience such a beautiful evening.
Happy that I met such a wonderful person.
Happy that, in my own way, I lived a real adventure.
But…
Disappointed that I didn’t ask for his number.
Disappointed that he didn’t ask for mine.
Disappointed that I didn’t casually ask about his future dance plans.
Disappointed that I now have so many questions. All that uncertainty.
Disappointed that I feel insecure because of it.
“Aaargh,” I sigh. “Annoying woman.”
“You met a beautiful man, someone you found, not only handsome, but kind, amusing and playfull. He clearly wasn’t as impressed. So… let it go. You’re just not his type. It happens.” I try to encourage myself.
It’s a beautiful morning. Dewdrops still linger on the grass and plants. James’ long black-and-rust furry ears are wet from sniffing around the garden. It’s warm enough to sit outside, but still cool enough to see the steam rising from my tea. I breathe in the morning air and clear my head with my face in the sun.
“James, we’re going to the beach today,” I say to him as he lies at my feet, soaking up the sun.
I place my half-finished tea on the table and stand up.
Shower, dry my hair, check how warm it will be on my phone and get dressed. James’ leash, bag, ball, and treats. Shoes on, maybe a rain jacket just in case, money, keys, James in the car—and off we go.
The sea, the sun, the beach, the warm summer wind through my long hair. James races along the edge where water meets sand. The shallow water splashes up and soaks into his fur. Drops of seawater drip from his tail as he chases his ball. Barefoot, I run after him through the water—I’ll never win, but still it’s fun to try.
After a long walk along the shoreline, I take a towel from my backpack and lie down.
James shakes himself, right next to my head, just as I had settled down. Completely soaked and sandy… he could have at least shaken al the sand off near my feet.
Yes, that would’ve been nice.
I get up again, wipe my face with my sweater, and look cross at James. “There’s an entire beach to shake yourself dry, could you at least not do it next to my head?” I say, as if he would understand me.
I lie back down and relax. My face takes in the warmth of the sun and it feels wonderful. James has calmed down and settles between my legs in the soft sand. That way I can feel that he’s close and stays with me. I close my eyes and let my mind drift off, listening to the waves, playing children in the background, and the soft murmur of people conversating around me.
The sudden movement of a dog jumping over me pulls me out of my relaxation. I sit up, startled, sand in my mouth and eyes. Once I wipe the sand away, I see James running wildly in circles around another dog.
A man with glasses and messy hair watches the playing dogs with a wide smile. I assume he’s the owner. Our eyes meet, we nod. You know, the nod of silent approval between dog owners.
My stomach growls. A bit further down the beach, I spotted a nice beach bar. Maybe it’s time to pack up and grab something to eat. I check my watch, it’s already two o’clock. Apparently, I skipped lunch.
James and the other dog keep playing while I put the towel back in my backpack. I walk toward the beach bar and call out his name, but he doesn’t respond. He’s having too much fun. The man with the glasses finds it amusing how “well-trained” my dog is. I feel embarrassed as I have to take action to get his attention.
Time for drastic measures. I take James’ ball from my bag and throw it past the dogs. Immediately, there’s interest, but the wrong dog proudly runs off with it and brings it back to his owner.
The man accepts the ball from his dog. It seems his dog is a much better listener than mine.
As I struggle through the soft sand towards him, he stands up and walks towards me, handing me the ball. My eyes are fixed on it, still feeling embarrassed.
“Thanks for returning both the ball and my dog,” I shyly say to the man.
“Charlotte?” the man asks softly.
I turn around, slightly startled. “Yes?” How awful, he knows who I am but I have no idea who he is or where I know him from.
“No idea, huh?” he says, taking off his glasses and stepping closer.
I narrow my eyes… and freeze.
“Arthur?”
Arthur laughs, squinting one eye against the bright sun.
Arthur laughs, squinting one eye against the bright sun.
I don’t quite know how to behave, given all the questions that filled my mind last night and still, this morning.
“What brings you here?” I ask.
“Peace and quiet. I live just a few minutes from this beach actually. Lucie and I enjoy taking long walks at the shore on my days off, and with weather like this…” Arthur says, gently stroking Lucie’s head.
I nod in agreement.
“Lovely, living this close to the beach,” I say, taking in a deep breath of salty air.
“Heading home already?” Arthur asks, interested.
“James and I went for a walk, had a little nap, and now it’s time to grab something to eat. I’m going to check out that beach bar over there,” I reply.
Arthur whistles for Lucie to come back and says, “Well then, I won’t keep you any longer. Enjoy your meal.” He pets Lucie, smiles at us, and walks on.
I watch Arthur as he moves farther away and hesitate, wondering whether I should ask him to join me for lunch.
But while I hesitate and the words won’t leave my lips, Arthur and Lucie grow smaller and smaller in the distance.
I’m pulled from my thoughts by James, who suddenly bolts off like a rocket. I run after him as fast as I can.
“Jaaaaames!” I shout, but nothing can stop him. He’s really gone, just like that.
The soft sand feels heavy beneath my feet, and James is unstoppable. I push myself to my limit and get closer.
Luckily, James has already reached his destination. I stop to catch my breath. A frisbee game, apparently, is extremely fascinating. James trots back toward me proudly, with a frisbee in his mouth, while a few teenagers run after him.
“James. DROP IT,” I command, still out of breath.
He releases the frisbee.
“Good boy! Well done!” I say while I pet his head.
“Sorry about that, I guess he got a bit too excited about your frisbee, I’m afraid,” I say to the young man as I hand it back.
“That’s okay, he can join us if he wants,” the young man replies with a bright genuine smile.
“Maybe we’ll come back later, but first, we’re grabbing a bite.” I clip James’ leash back on.
We go up the stairs. The terrace reminds me of my holidays in Ibiza, long wooden tables, woven lights glowing softly inside, lounge music playing and palm trees decorating the deck.
I take a seat at one of the tables outside, overlooking the beautiful beach. A light sea breeze is blowing in the air, though behind the glass terrace it’s quite warm. I place my jacket and backpack on a chair and, before sitting down, go looking for a bowl of water for James.
I find one, but of course, he refuses to drink. So I walk back to the table, talking to him as if he understands, explaining that he’d better not start whining later, I did try.
The menu has already been placed on the table. I sit down facing the sun and tie James’ leash to the table leg.
I order a glass of white wine, a cola, and a goat cheese salad.
Mmm… this is bliss. The sun on my face, James at my feet, a glass of wine in my hand. I observe the couples and groups around me while waiting for my food, imagining their conversations based on their expressions and gestures.
The people behind me are gossiping about affairs, illness, and how Marianne has gained so much weight, you wouldn’t even recognize her anymore. Apparently.
There’s so much happening around me that dining alone doesn’t feel lonely at all.
A very beautiful woman walks onto the terrace. She moves with confidence, her long blonde hair and long legs catching attention as she strolls across the deck. She dresses with a timeless elegance, her slender figure complemented by a gentle smile.
You know, there are two kinds of beautiful women in this world: the modest ones, who are beautiful inside and out, and the *I’m-better-than-you* type, who know they’re attractive and let it define them. She strikes me as the first kind. Someone you could be jealous of, because she seems to have everything her heart desires, but she’s so kind and radiant that jealousy doesn’t even feel right. You actually wish the very best for her. She truly deserves it.
I may not be into women, but this one… she truly looks like she stepped right out of a magazine.
She walks past my table and takes the wide staircase down to the beach. Just before reaching the sand, she practically jumps into someone’s arms, overjoyed.
Good for her, I think to myself. She won’t be waiting around to be asked out by a charming man. She looks like a real go-getter, with a touch of *je m’en fou* attitude. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. She’s right, life is too short to hold back.
“Hmmm,” I murmur. It’s nice to think that from tomorrow on, you’ll react differently to situations, but if that’s not who you are, you have to teach it to yourself. They say you can build a habit by repeating a behavior for 66 days.
Right. Where are those 66 men I can get rejected by?
I chuckle. Maybe this kind of behavior just isn’t meant for me.
The waitress serves the salad. I immediately dig in. Scrumptious. I’m so HUNGRY. Wow, this tastes amazing.
I take a huge bite and taste the honey, the salt, the walnuts, the arugula, and the goat cheese.
“Enjoy, just make sure you don’t choke on it.”
I hear someone say as they pass behind me.
I turn my head around, mouth as full as can be, and nod while making a small waving gesture with my hand.
Yes, that was Arthur walking by with Lucie… and that stunning blonde woman straight out of a magazine.
