“Great.” I hang up feeling myself grin from ear to ear like the Joker on a bender. He makes me happy and yet I can’t get anywhere near him.
The hour passes quickly and since the day is nice enough I drag my laptop and a blanket with my food up to the roof. It’s unseasonably warm for the end of March, finally. I set myself up and make sure the Wi-Fi is connected. I wait impatiently and tuck my legs under me taking in the view. I can see the Brooklyn Bridge from our rooftop and into lower Manhattan. I know Van lives somewhere over there amid the skyscrapers and chaos. My computer pings taking me from my daydreaming and I see Van’s face on the screen. He’s sitting at a metal patio table with a sandwich on his plate, a glass of wine and a view that probably cost millions to acquire. I’m in awe for a moment and don’t catch his smile. He angles the screen so I can see behind him.
“Oh geez, I’m sorry. I was admiring your view.”
He chuffs. “I hope someday you might look at me like that.”
I’m blushing, my face can’t possibly get pinker with the sunshine baking me on the rooftop. He has no idea how many times I drew hearts and flowers around our company logo with his name on it dreaming about him from afar.
“What’s for lunch?” Van steers the comment toward the picnic and we launch into a debate over whi
ch deli has the best sandwiches. He vote’s for Katz’s and I’m a diehard fan of Lloyd’s Kosher Deli.
“And what do you put on your sandwich?” I ask.
“Pastrami on rye.” He says with total seriousness.
“Oh, totally not kissing breath then.” I pretend to wave my hand in front of the screen like I can smell it as he takes a bite and laughs attempting to chew.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Laurel. Tell me then, what does your sweet breath prefer?”
“Chicken salad on rye.” I take a bite of my turkey and cheese because that’s all I had in the fridge. The bread is slightly stale, but I refused to let it go to waste.
“At least we can share a loaf of bread.” He says before launching into my favorite parks to take walks in.
“I prefer the smaller ones with hills, I don’t work out if I can help it, but I enjoy a good walk. Prospect Park is nearby and I take my niece there to play. She’s seven and a handful.”
Van grins explaining how he’s always loved Central Park.
“Laurel, what’s that?” Van points at the screen at something behind me. I half turn and look.
Laughing, “Oh that’s Mickey.” I love that my buddy has come to visit me today chirping with his twitching floofy tail.
“Babe, I don’t want to be the one to tell you this, but that’s not a mouse.” Van is looking utterly confused and I can’t blame him. The fat black squirrel perched on the roof is expecting a hand out. I tear off some bread from my sandwich and toss it at him. We both watch him scurry to pick it up and eat.
“He might have rabies or something, maybe that’s not a good idea.” It’s cute that Van thinks he can protect me from this overweight beggar.
“Nah, Mickey here has been around awhile. He started showing up right after my dad died. I’ve been feeding him since.” I tear off another piece of bread and carefully hold it out daring the fluffy guy to take what I’m offering. It’s not much but when he reaches for it, nose wiggling and beady black eyes I see a little of myself reflected. Hopeful. Patient. Determined to make it. That’s why I keep feeding him.
I turn back to the screen and see Van sitting there. I don’t know if it’s with shock, amazement, or if he’s got animal control on speed dial considering how fresh and new this is. He doesn’t seem like the animal control type, wary sure, protective definitely.
“You know what I’m going to do the moment this shit show is over.”
“What’s that?” I ask biting my lip shy and encouraged by his candor.
“I’m going to kiss you, Laurel Murphy keeper of squirrels, poor taste in delis, and secret rooftop hideouts.”
Van makes me happy and he suggests we go back inside as the clouds move in. I clean up my lunch in the setting sun and carefully carry my laptop to my bedroom where I set him up on my nightstand.
“So how does tonight’s first date end?” I get comfortable in my nest of pillows and see he’s propped me up with him in his bed. A huge king-sized thing with crisp white sheets and downy pillows he’s obviously punched a few times to get comfortable.
“Tonight’s date is going to end strolling one of my favorite museums.” Van sends me a link to the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, Italy.
“I’ve never been.” I have a lot of places on my bucket list to visit and I wish I could be doing this holding his hand or bumping against his shoulder. Anything physical. For now I click on the link and explore this with him. We might not have the warmth of each other but the time and attention he gives me is enough.
“Time to explore Caravaggio and Raphael.”
“My luck, I’d get too close checking out the brush strokes and the alarm would go off.”