What Was I Thinking? by Ellen Gragg Page A

was—over with his bike in it, we would load mine in too, and we would take

them to Forest Park for a ride…if, of course, that suited me.
    It did and I told him so.
    We had arrived at my car, still holding hands.

I fished in my pocket for my car keys, wondering just how we were going to say

good night. He had, after all, declared that he might be falling in love with

me, but he also seemed to find kissing scandalous. I did want to be myself, but

I also didn’t want to scare him off again.
    He faced me, and said, “I had a very nice day

with you, Addie. Thank you for joining me.” He squeezed my hand gently, released

it,—darn!—and took my keys to open the door for me.
    I got in, shrugging internally. I didn’t have

to understand him. When I wasn’t trying to, he was a very restful guy. He

handed my keys in to me, said he looked forward to seeing me tomorrow, and shut

the door. I drove off, wondering.
    I looked forward to tomorrow also and it turned

out to be another nice, calm, sunny day with a pleasant but confusing man. Turns out an “estate wagon” is a big, old-fashioned station

wagon. With the back seats down, it took two bikes just fine. I guess a bike

rack was another technology Bert hadn’t really noticed, but this approach got

us to Forest Park.
    There was nothing at all wrong with the day,

except that I kept getting sidetracked, wondering if he was interested in me or

not. He had raised mixed signals to an art form. He saw me and my bike safely

back to our places, declined an invitation to come in for some supper, thanked

me for a wonderful day, squeezed my hand, and left without a kiss again.
    What was up with him? Other guys think third date equals sex and here we were on third or

fourth, depending on how you counted, and he wasn’t up to goodnight kiss?
    All in all, I was pleased to see Susan step

into the hall as the elevator closed behind Bert.
    “I hope you don’t mind, me popping out this

way, but I realized I don’t have your phone number, so…”
    “Sure. No problem. What’s up?”
    “If you’re not busy tonight…” she seemed

diffident, but then it was weird making friends with the person in the next

apartment. If you didn’t have equal expectations of interaction levels, it

could get very uncomfortable.
    I shook my head. “Apparently I’m not. Busy just

left.”
    She smiled. “Well, in that case, I’m looking

for a gossip fix and I thought we could grab a pizza.”
    “Sounds great. I just got home, though. Want

to come in while I take a bathroom break and grab my purse?”
    “No, I’ll give you a few minutes to yourself.

I’ll close up and get my own gear. Just tap on my door when you’re ready.”
    I was glad for the time to shower the sweat of

the day off, and to change out of biking gear. I know some people wear it

everywhere, but I feel like a geek in it, even on a bike. Jeans were better for

pizza and a chat.
    We walked to the Mama’s Pizza a few blocks away

and settled into a booth. When we’d agreed on sharing a thin-crust pepperoni

and each ordered drinks, she turned to me.
    “So, what’s the news in the big romance?”
    I groaned. “Lord, I don’t know. Let’s talk about you. What’s new in your life?”
    “Oh, no, I’m boring. I want to know about

flowers-and-poetry boy.”
    “Oh, no, yourself. You know all my deepest darkest

secrets and I know next to nothing about you. Besides which, I’m sick to death

of thinking about Bert. That’s all I’ve done all weekend. You talk, or you get

no gossip at all!”
    She mock-glared at me and

pointed with her unused fork. “You drive a hard bargain, missy, but you will

regret it, I promise you.”
    I glared back, and hissed, “ you cannot scare me, not you or all your minions of evil.”
    She leaned back, laughing. “Okay, you are

certifiably nuts and you win. What’s new in my life? Well, I must be getting

over the worst of my divorce, because I’m actually