Waiting on Sarah Grace

Date

I wake up feeling more like myself.  Finally, things seem to be going smooth; a date tonight, my first ever, actually.  I never had time before, I was always at a horse show or training, and I never put myself in situations to be asked out.  I have no idea what to expect, at all.  Ok, shower first.  After showering with my favorite body wash, shampoo and conditioning, I get out and wrap a towel around my body and squeeze the water out of my hair, then rub lotion into my skin.  This is the first time I've looked at the scar from my surgery; it's bigger than I would like, but I've never cared about what my body looked like in the past.  Of course, I've never had someone that wanted to look at my body in the past.  I wonder what he has planned.  It's really weird that our first date is tonight, and our wedding is next weekend.  I shake my head at that train of thought.  I start my routine, brush teeth, moisturize my face and eyes, comb out my hair, leave in conditioner and begin to blow dry my hair.  Next make up, keep casual and I go to see what I'm supposed to wear.  NO!  Leather pants. In Florida. In June. Just, no to all that. I hang the pants back in the closet, good with the white tank top, but I'm wearing jeans instead.  Getting dressed, I then look around for shoes.  Did the man even listen?  I said no heels.  Putting those back, I reach form my Doc Martens, he'll just have to deal with it.  I go back in the bathroom and put a few curls in my hair, done with hair and makeup, dressed, shoes on; time for jewelry.  I dig until I find my silver hoops and a delicate short silver chain with my initials on it.  Lipstick.  I haven't worn any in forever, but I just feel like being extra tonight and how much more extra is red lipstick.  I send Shooter a text and tell him I'm ready, I grab my driver's license and secure it in my bra.  I have this weird thing, I want to be identified if I'm ever unconscious in a wreck, right, I was.  Shooter text back that he'll be up in a minute.  I spray on some perfume and look in the mirror, this is the first time I've been completely made up, not since the last dance I went to while I was still in school, when I was fifteen.  I barely recognize myself.  It feels like too much, so I blot the red lipstick some, making it look matte and less vibrant.  Walking out of the bathroom, I check again, I still barely recognize me and that's when I hear someone knocking on the from door.  Oh, well, time to figure that out later.  I go to open the front door expecting someone from the club and its Shooter, holding a dozen varying shade of orange, coral and pink roses. Needless to say, I'm not sure who's more surprised.  He looks at me like I'm a complete stranger.

"Wow! Baby, I just ... you look, wow ... just wow!  I've never seen you like this.  Damn!  You keep surprising me." 

He pulls me into his arms and leans in to kiss me, but I turn my face, because red lipstick.

"You're going to smear my lipstick."

"Baby, I plan on it.  These are for you."

"Thank you.  Let me put them in some water really quick."  I dig through the cabinets until I find the crystal vase that belonged to my grandmother.  Turning around to leave, he's still standing right where I left him.  I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him, "come on, let's go."

"Yeah, sorry baby girl, I've just never seen you like this."

"When I left school, I got lazy."

"You're beautiful whatever you do, this is just different." 

Locking the door and setting the alarm, he grabs my hand and leads me downstairs.  He pulls the main door shut and locks it.  I know my pops has a key, so he can get in if he needs to.  When we get to his bike, he hands me my helmet, pops got me my own a couple of years ago.  I turn to get on the bike and find his friends, my pops, my brother and a lot more of the members there, staring at me; at us.

"What are y'all looking at?"  They immediately start mumbling and turn to go back inside, except Shooter's friends, who raise their beer in a toast, so I raise my middle finger and toast them back.  They begin laughing so hard they can barely stand.  Shooter looks at them and I just shrug my shoulders.  They're his friends, he should understand them.  The bike rumbles to life and we turn smoothly onto the street and head toward the beach.