Jae Ham
As I'm puttering in the kitchen, swishing left and right, I steal brief glimpses of myself in the long, vertical mirror dividing the living room and the dining area.
"Looking good," I mumble to myself, thinking about my choice of outfit for today: White button-down shirt with the long sleeves rolled up to my elbows, black pants and shoes. Initially, I thought I resembled a waiter, but the longer I surveyed my reflection, the more I could pass for an idol.
Date Twelve: April 26: Homemade Dinner
It is Friday. At the drop of five-thirty, the appetizers are well under way. I decided to try my hand at a new recipe that called for side dishes of bow-tie pasta and vegetables. Though I know this is enough for both of us, I decided at the last minute to make appetizers and a Caesar salad as well.
I'd prepared mushrooms stuffed with sausage and cream cheese, and they are warming in the oven next to the bread I picked up at the bakery. I've just finished setting the table and opening a bottle of Merlot when I hear Sage knock on the door.
"Hello?" she calls out, and I can see her smile though the window pane.
I wipe my hands on a small towel, stride toward the door, and open it to reveal a pretty, slender blonde in a beige, sleeveless dress with a black belt and ebony flats. Her wavy hair cascade down her back and bare shoulders, and her brown eyes are sparkling as she smiles at me.
"You look.. you're very... I mean.." I'm tongue-tied, I can feel my cheeks flame in sheer embarrassment.
Her face brightens. "Thank you," she says, repeating it after I proffer the single long-stemmed red rose to her. "Wow," she remarks, closing her eyes for a moment. She opens them, commenting, "It smells great in here. What's for dinner?"
"Veal Marsala," I announce, pouring her a glass of wine. I cross the room and hand it to her.
"Thanks," Sage says, accepting the glass. I pull out a chair for her, and she sits down with a grateful smile in my direction. "I love what you've done here," she adds eagerly, looking pointedly at the white-clothed table, lone candlelight in the center, and the low lighting.
"I'm glad." The kitchen counters are crowded with preparations for the main course: sliced veal, assorted vegetables, a cutting board and knife. I put on an oven mitt to remove the appetizers and set the baking sheet on the stove top.
"Here," I say.
Sage looks at me in surprise. "They're already done?"
"Lucky timing," I say with a shrug.
She reaches for a mushroom and takes a bite. "Gem sent me a text this afternoon.. Wow, this is really good." She pauses, suddenly examining the mushroom. She takes another bite and lets it roll around in her mouth before going on. Her brown eyes meet mine. "She mentioned that you forced everyone to spend the day outside so you can cook dinner for me?"
All the blood rushes to my face. "That's not true," I protest vehemently.
"She also said that she's taking up a new hobby," Sage continues, ignoring my feeble contradictions. She raises her chin to lock gazes with me. "Jewelry making, right?"
"Yeah," I confirm, popping a mushroom into my mouth as I take a seat across her.
Sage's fingertips are shiny as she picks up another mushroom. "These are seriously delicious," she enthuses. "Is this a new recipe?"
"Yes," I answer.
"Is it complicated?"
"Not really."
She releases a happy sigh. "Imagine if Gem opens up her own store of accessories. She can call it.. Gem's Stones.."
My jaw drops. I slowly lower my palms on the table. "You really don't want that next date, do you?"
Sage gives a hearty laugh, and I think again how lucky I am to have met someone like her.
We talk about anything and everything, unaware of the hours flying by.
She blinks twice, straightening in her chair. "What time is it?" she wonders aloud.
"A quarter to eight," I say in response, glancing up at the clock on the wall.
"I think I should get going," she murmurs sheepishly.
"Are you full?"
"Why do you ask?"
"You did say not to go easy on you," I say with a smirk, dropping on one knee in front of the oven to slide out the chicken cordon bleu.
Her brown eyes widen in surprise. Then narrow into slits. "Bring it on, Ham."
"It's chicken," I correct her with a sly smile.
She flicks a bit of mushroom at me, which I catch in my mouth.
"Show-off."
"What, you wanted me to get hit by food?"
"Maybe."
"Maybe?" I inch closer to Sage threateningly, unsure if she's ticklish.
Turns out she is. "Stop! Stop it!" She says between bouts of shaky laughter, but I proceed to tickle her sides, and she slowly slips off the chair and falls to the floor.
"I'm warning you, Ham, you better stop or else--"
"Or else what?" I challenge playfully.
We both freeze once we realize that I'm on top of her, my hands on either side of her waist, and her fingers are dangerously cupping my nape.
My dark eyes stare into her brown eyes intensely. My gaze travels down her lips, and I swallow hard.
"I have to go," she says, quickly standing up and fixing her unruly locks.
"Heart, wait--" I'm not even sure what to say, but I want her to stay.
"It's not you, okay?" Sage pecks my cheek and hurries out the door before I can react.
