All the Waters of the Earth

Chapter 7: A Universal Truth

Question: What happened when you ruminated about a date the whole fucking week?

Answer: When you went to get dressed for it, you got really fucking nervous and completely over thought it.

I tore apart my bedroom, trying on everything I owned that was suitable for a night out. And trust me, I owned plenty of "night out" clothes: miniskirts, little black dresses, wrap dresses, fifties-looking dresses, slinky dresses, dresses with illegal v-necks cut down in the front, dresses cut so low in the back that you can almost see the top of my ass, high necked, long-sleeve dresses that hugged every curve, sequined dresses, babydoll dresses, and one black pair of pants that actually fit.

So, I had nothing to wear.

I did, however, have fabulous shoes. They were, as Oprah says, "ten minute only" shoes, meaning you could only actually walk for ten minutes in them, but I was used to wearing high heels, so I didn't think it would be a problem. They had one teeny strap over the toes, and one around the ankles, and were otherwise held on by luck.

Desperate, I called Sara, hoping that her Macy's experience would help. "I've got a date with my neighbor, who is straight out of a book that I would write, and I don't know what to wear," I panted out in a rush, pacing in my messy bedroom, wearing black lace panties and a matching bra.

"Slow down," she ordered. "This is tamale guy?"

"Yeah."

"And he apologized?"

"Yeah."

"He's worth your time?"

I paused. "I think so. He works crazy hours. I don't know what he does, some sort of advertising or something. He's always bringing samples from clients. But the thing is, he goes out of his way to come see me every day, even when it's late."

"That's your answer," she said. "A universal truth is if a guy is interested, he'll show you he's interested."

"I think he's interested. He told me as much."

"But mama, you are such a romantic. You haven't dated in so long."

"That's because I swore off real men," I responded. "Book boyfriends are better."

"Don't forget that he's a real, flesh and blood guy. He's no Fabio. Just because he looks good doesn't mean anything unless he treats you well. And working so hard, he might have some issues."

"We all have issues."

"That's true." She paused. "I care about you, mama. Make sure to take good care of yourself."

"I do."

"I know. Okay, so then have fun and let me know how it went."

"Wait, what do I wear?"

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know. He said somewhere nice."

"So go with classic and elegant. Sparkly top and pencil skirt."

"Shit, you're right. You're the best. Love ya."

I hung up, pulled out a sequined tank top that was between blush pink and bronze colored, a black pencil skirt, and my little strappy black heels. With my hair down around my shoulders and my lip gloss on, I grabbed my clutch purse. Then, leaving my room a torn-up mess, I closed my door, locked it, and headed over to Jake's.

He answered the door, wearing a charcoal gray, long-sleeve, button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his gorgeous forearms, and black slacks. He smelled like he just got out of the shower, and his hair was damp and wavy. He held a coat over his shoulder and stepped out, locking his door.