CLP is excited to share this excerpt from Carry Me Away by Robb Grindstaff!
Within a few days, I felt more like normal, whatever that was. Paul was in town and wanted to take Cin, Bry, and me into D.C. Friday night. Dinner at a seafood place and tickets to see Evita on stage at the Kennedy Center, his treat.
Paul picked us up at six-thirty, precisely on time. I sat in the front seat next to Paul; Cin and Bry climbed into the back. Valet parking and a maitre d’ in a tuxedo. This wasn’t like the restaurants my parents ever took me to.
“Mr. Roberts, sir, your table is ready. Follow me.” With a swoop of his arm and a slight bow of his head, the butler bade us to follow him to our banquet.
Paul pulled my chair out for me. Bry, almost but not quite seated, caught the hint and recovered in time to pull the chair out for Cin. Without a word, Paul taught Bry how to be a gentleman one gesture at a time all evening. Cin never picked up on it, but Bry watched Paul like a hawk through the whole dinner, following his cues.
Cin, on the other hand, was perfectly within her element. You’d think she’d graduated magna cum laude from charm school. She knew which fork to use when and for what. In her burgundy dress, cut low enough to show more breast cleavage than I had ass cleavage, she was no longer the gangly little girl that jumped the stairs. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Sitting next to her in a suit and tie, Bry looked like a grown-up.
Cin and I had gone to the mall that afternoon, where I bought my first little black dress. I tried on some black stilettos with ankle straps that made me about three inches taller, though still shorter than Cin in her bare feet. Cin thought the shoes were a little whorish, so I got them.
We were too young to order wine, and I really wanted a diet soda (no ice) with my bisque, but that just didn’t sound sophisticated enough for this place. When Paul ordered a sparkling water with lemon, I thought that sounded good and ordered the same.
We made it to the theater in the nick of time and found our row as the lights dimmed. Paul led the way to our seats. He reached back and held my hand. I reached back to hold Cin’s, who held on to Bry’s. Our little choo-choo train stepped over feet and purses, excusing ourselves until we found our seats in the dark.
On my left, I held my friend. We shared everything, well, almost everything, since we were nine years old. On my right, this wonderful man who’d always been there for me, who cherished me, and whom I adored. He got better looking every time I saw him. We held hands easily as lifelong friends.
Remembering my teenage crush on him, I blushed a little in the dark. Our hands merged and he shifted to intertwine our fingers. It felt a bit romantic, but was that my schoolgirl memory coming back? What did he feel as he held my hand? What was he thinking? A poor sick little girl that needed comfort and enjoyment before she croaks? Or did he delight in the touch of my hand as I delighted in his? I absentmindedly stroked his finger with my thumb, a near-microscopic caress. I stopped myself as the curtain rose and the first act began.
When I stopped the miniature caress, he started.
As she straightened her dress and fumbled with her program in the dark, Cin’s hand left mine. She shifted to lean towards Bry. I shifted towards Paul ever so slightly. His right hand found my wrist and gently rested there. A delicate, loving touch. Or maybe he was checking my pulse.
On the way back to Cin’s, Paul drove with one hand and held mine in the other. He didn’t try to kiss me as he hugged me goodnight. I wasn’t sure how to react if he had. I fantasized that we held hands as lovers, perhaps as husband and wife. I suspected he wasn’t thinking the same, so I didn’t push it.
I loved the play. Eva Peron died young, leaving behind her husband—an older and successful man who adored her. Did Paul choose this play on purpose?
Biography: In addition to his career as a newspaper editor, publisher, and manager, Robb Grindstaff has written fiction most of his life. The newspaper biz has taken him and his family from Phoenix, Arizona, to small towns in North Carolina and Texas, and from seven years in Washington, D.C., to five years in Asia.
Robb edits fiction and non-fiction and has a dozen short stories and articles published in several print anthologies and e-zines. His first novel, Hannah’s Voice, debuted January 2013 and his latest novel, Carry Me Away, published September 2013.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/RobbWriter
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/robbgrindstaffwriter?fref=ts
Website: robbgrindstaff.com
