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ysonesse(First posted on Runaway Tales: Pink Lemonade #5)
“The second fact about me─” Jamie took another swig of Cabernet which allowed his latest bite of ravioli to descend toward his stomach “─I’m agnathiest.”
Allyson laughed. “That’s new. So you’re agnostic plus atheist. What made you become that kind of person?”
A quick chew dispatched the remainder of his dinner. “I could never decide if God never existed or perhaps resides in a little corner pocket of the universe and isn’t anyone in particular yet manipulates things for unknown reasons.”
“Some days you can’t believe in a supreme deity, but other days you need to believe.”
“You’re a mind reader.”
“I continually have the same pull-and-pull-some-more, particularly on random occasions.”
“Life makes certain that nobody can ever know if deities really exist.”
“A lot of people have some kind of belief…”
Jamie finished her comment. “And then people like us remain unsure.”
“One more thing we have in common.”
Jamie grinned. “Perhaps a sign from a certain deity.”
“What about really good chemistry, luck of the draw, power of attraction?”
“Everything you just said, and maybe toss in the God option.”
“Couldn’t it be ‘Goddess”?”
He took another sip of wine. “Perhaps a creator which alters its theoretical sex by will? Or it could be male and female coexistent in one entity.”
Allyson leaned her chin against her hand. “That is profound.”
Jamie wrinkled his nose. “Doesn’t it sound like I’m drunk?”
“Two glasses of wine makes you drunk?”
“I’m rambling about nonsense, so maybe that means I’m headed straight for intoxication.”
“You’ve just revealed something important. We’re supposed to be sounding like idiots. That’s what personal details sound like coming out when you don’t edit from the inside.”
“Getting to know each other is embarrassing.” Jamie drained the remainder of his glass. “Second one’s down the hatch, time to get the next one ready for launch.”
“Are you feeling okay?”
“The buzz is coming.”
“Let me know if you need a taxi─”
“I can wobble back home.”
“I won’t allow you to walk home under the influence.”
“So you’ll come back with me?
“On the sixth date? I never knew your loins were so…”
“The condition of my nether region has nothing to do with my desire for inviting you back to my flat.”
“They have everything to do with each other! Without desire, the loins are cold, and nobody wants frozen parts.” She dissolved into a complete set of giggles. “That sounds ridiculous!”
“Maybe you’re the drunkard!” Jamie pointed at her with a shaky index finger.
“Unlikely!” Allyson poked his wrist. “I’ve been good all evening.”
“Shameful. You should be wanton instead.”
“When did you slip into Shakespeare mode?”
“‘Wanton’ is a legitimate antique word.”
“Kind of like yours truly.”
“Stop it.”
“I remember when the Berlin Wall came down─”
“Me too.”
“But you were in the Brit equivalent of second grade while I languished through my first year of high school.”
“Now you’ve reached for the five pound words.”
“So I have.”
“Languish and wanton sound utterly Victorian.”
“Droopy words that freeze the fiery loins…” Allyson giggled again. “Yeah, maybe I have become a little too friendly with Mademoiselle Sauvignon.”
“How do you know the wine’s unmarried?”
“Perhaps it’s ascetic and prefers to contemplate life.”
“Ah, the philosophical contemplations of a grape’s existence... ”
“Filled with a great dread of yeast and sugar that renders it fatalistic…”
“Unable to believe in any gods…”
“Poor thing could never be agnatheistic.”
They looked at each other, caught up within mutual amusement in some outrageous concept. It was a unique bonding moment in a little Italian restaurant. Tonight’s revelations had stretched a varied gamut from serious to sill, but in the midst of those words Jamie and Allyson discovered intangible connections between them. It was another link in their growing chain toward something more…but it was too soon for calling this union a relationship; six dates were fantastic, because so much work had gone into keeping their interaction casual. Tonight was a crossroads; revelations had poured forth over raviolis and Cabernet Sauvignon, leading to a greater connection that could only lead into a bright future…unless another revelation tumbled forth which might scare one of them away…
Jamie reached for the half-empty bottle of liquid courage and poured a third glass. “It’s probably not a good idea to embark on another journey across the wine-dark sea.”
“Then we’ll pass this one back and forth.”
“I might need this one for myself.”
“Are you going to─?”
“No.” Jamie reached across the table and grasped Allyson’s hand. “You’re part of my life. Never forget it.” His thumb stroked across her fingers. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be so afraid to mention something else about my family.”
“Do you come from an unbroken line of Crown executioners?”
He laughed. “No.” Then he cast a steady gaze upon their joined hands. “What I need to say isn’t scandalous, just unbelievable.”
“Are you some lost prince of a faraway kingdom?”
“No, a viscount.”
Allyson looked at him with narrowed eyes. “I don’t get your joke.”
“There is no joke. My father is the Earl of Lockborough. I grew up in a manor house called Nevis Hall. My ancestry on the paternal side is…really old.”
Allyson leaned back into her chair. “So…you’re not just some English guy, but─”
“Aristocratic, according to technical definitions…well, I’m half aristocratic. That particular category means nothing to me, and it should mean nothing to you because it’s just a stupid economic description.”
“You have suits of armor and creepy oil paintings in every hallway. All the corners of your house are drafty, and there’s dust everywhere. Is that what ‘aristocratic’ means in reality?”
“We only have two suits of armor; one of those happens to be from a Royal Shakespeare Company production of Richard III. Dad really liked the suit and happened to be friends with the producer, so that costume wound up in his office. The portraits are creepy, not the landscapes. Most buildings are drafty up north, and dust exists no matter where you stand.” Jamie pointed at their mutual alcoholic salvation from which Allyson had taken four sips. “Mind if I take a couple gulps?”
“Can you stand drinking after this peasant?”
Jamie squeezed Allyson’s hand in a gentle yet firm grasp. “I can do many things with an equal.” Then he winked.
She lowered her eyes. “But your family is so different…”
“My father’s people have fancy origins. But remember what I told you about Mum’s people.”
“Generations of Russian Jewish peasant farmers who broke their proverbial backs and never came anywhere near to wealth until your many-greats-grandfather Hiram immigrated to Chicago and eventually got himself a few grocery stores.”
Jamie nodded. “One Sephardic ancestress might exist from around the Late Middle Ages, although there’s nothing but family tradition to support that notion. Anyway, it makes for a little spice in the midst of an otherwise straightforward maternal genealogy.”
“It’s better than my families. I’m nothing but Scottish and English on Dad’s half, and there have been at least four aspiring intellectuals per generation. My great-grandparents all the way down to my father have been academics of some kind. Mom’s family was French and Hungarian, but I’m not sure what kind of jobs they held.”
“Farmers?”
“Maybe.”
“See, that’s another element we have in common! Genetic dirt under our fingernails!”
Allyson laughed. “We’re different yet the same.”
“A perfect balance.”
“The second fact about me─” Jamie took another swig of Cabernet which allowed his latest bite of ravioli to descend toward his stomach “─I’m agnathiest.”
Allyson laughed. “That’s new. So you’re agnostic plus atheist. What made you become that kind of person?”
A quick chew dispatched the remainder of his dinner. “I could never decide if God never existed or perhaps resides in a little corner pocket of the universe and isn’t anyone in particular yet manipulates things for unknown reasons.”
“Some days you can’t believe in a supreme deity, but other days you need to believe.”
“You’re a mind reader.”
“I continually have the same pull-and-pull-some-more, particularly on random occasions.”
“Life makes certain that nobody can ever know if deities really exist.”
“A lot of people have some kind of belief…”
Jamie finished her comment. “And then people like us remain unsure.”
“One more thing we have in common.”
Jamie grinned. “Perhaps a sign from a certain deity.”
“What about really good chemistry, luck of the draw, power of attraction?”
“Everything you just said, and maybe toss in the God option.”
“Couldn’t it be ‘Goddess”?”
He took another sip of wine. “Perhaps a creator which alters its theoretical sex by will? Or it could be male and female coexistent in one entity.”
Allyson leaned her chin against her hand. “That is profound.”
Jamie wrinkled his nose. “Doesn’t it sound like I’m drunk?”
“Two glasses of wine makes you drunk?”
“I’m rambling about nonsense, so maybe that means I’m headed straight for intoxication.”
“You’ve just revealed something important. We’re supposed to be sounding like idiots. That’s what personal details sound like coming out when you don’t edit from the inside.”
“Getting to know each other is embarrassing.” Jamie drained the remainder of his glass. “Second one’s down the hatch, time to get the next one ready for launch.”
“Are you feeling okay?”
“The buzz is coming.”
“Let me know if you need a taxi─”
“I can wobble back home.”
“I won’t allow you to walk home under the influence.”
“So you’ll come back with me?
“On the sixth date? I never knew your loins were so…”
“The condition of my nether region has nothing to do with my desire for inviting you back to my flat.”
“They have everything to do with each other! Without desire, the loins are cold, and nobody wants frozen parts.” She dissolved into a complete set of giggles. “That sounds ridiculous!”
“Maybe you’re the drunkard!” Jamie pointed at her with a shaky index finger.
“Unlikely!” Allyson poked his wrist. “I’ve been good all evening.”
“Shameful. You should be wanton instead.”
“When did you slip into Shakespeare mode?”
“‘Wanton’ is a legitimate antique word.”
“Kind of like yours truly.”
“Stop it.”
“I remember when the Berlin Wall came down─”
“Me too.”
“But you were in the Brit equivalent of second grade while I languished through my first year of high school.”
“Now you’ve reached for the five pound words.”
“So I have.”
“Languish and wanton sound utterly Victorian.”
“Droopy words that freeze the fiery loins…” Allyson giggled again. “Yeah, maybe I have become a little too friendly with Mademoiselle Sauvignon.”
“How do you know the wine’s unmarried?”
“Perhaps it’s ascetic and prefers to contemplate life.”
“Ah, the philosophical contemplations of a grape’s existence... ”
“Filled with a great dread of yeast and sugar that renders it fatalistic…”
“Unable to believe in any gods…”
“Poor thing could never be agnatheistic.”
They looked at each other, caught up within mutual amusement in some outrageous concept. It was a unique bonding moment in a little Italian restaurant. Tonight’s revelations had stretched a varied gamut from serious to sill, but in the midst of those words Jamie and Allyson discovered intangible connections between them. It was another link in their growing chain toward something more…but it was too soon for calling this union a relationship; six dates were fantastic, because so much work had gone into keeping their interaction casual. Tonight was a crossroads; revelations had poured forth over raviolis and Cabernet Sauvignon, leading to a greater connection that could only lead into a bright future…unless another revelation tumbled forth which might scare one of them away…
Jamie reached for the half-empty bottle of liquid courage and poured a third glass. “It’s probably not a good idea to embark on another journey across the wine-dark sea.”
“Then we’ll pass this one back and forth.”
“I might need this one for myself.”
“Are you going to─?”
“No.” Jamie reached across the table and grasped Allyson’s hand. “You’re part of my life. Never forget it.” His thumb stroked across her fingers. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be so afraid to mention something else about my family.”
“Do you come from an unbroken line of Crown executioners?”
He laughed. “No.” Then he cast a steady gaze upon their joined hands. “What I need to say isn’t scandalous, just unbelievable.”
“Are you some lost prince of a faraway kingdom?”
“No, a viscount.”
Allyson looked at him with narrowed eyes. “I don’t get your joke.”
“There is no joke. My father is the Earl of Lockborough. I grew up in a manor house called Nevis Hall. My ancestry on the paternal side is…really old.”
Allyson leaned back into her chair. “So…you’re not just some English guy, but─”
“Aristocratic, according to technical definitions…well, I’m half aristocratic. That particular category means nothing to me, and it should mean nothing to you because it’s just a stupid economic description.”
“You have suits of armor and creepy oil paintings in every hallway. All the corners of your house are drafty, and there’s dust everywhere. Is that what ‘aristocratic’ means in reality?”
“We only have two suits of armor; one of those happens to be from a Royal Shakespeare Company production of Richard III. Dad really liked the suit and happened to be friends with the producer, so that costume wound up in his office. The portraits are creepy, not the landscapes. Most buildings are drafty up north, and dust exists no matter where you stand.” Jamie pointed at their mutual alcoholic salvation from which Allyson had taken four sips. “Mind if I take a couple gulps?”
“Can you stand drinking after this peasant?”
Jamie squeezed Allyson’s hand in a gentle yet firm grasp. “I can do many things with an equal.” Then he winked.
She lowered her eyes. “But your family is so different…”
“My father’s people have fancy origins. But remember what I told you about Mum’s people.”
“Generations of Russian Jewish peasant farmers who broke their proverbial backs and never came anywhere near to wealth until your many-greats-grandfather Hiram immigrated to Chicago and eventually got himself a few grocery stores.”
Jamie nodded. “One Sephardic ancestress might exist from around the Late Middle Ages, although there’s nothing but family tradition to support that notion. Anyway, it makes for a little spice in the midst of an otherwise straightforward maternal genealogy.”
“It’s better than my families. I’m nothing but Scottish and English on Dad’s half, and there have been at least four aspiring intellectuals per generation. My great-grandparents all the way down to my father have been academics of some kind. Mom’s family was French and Hungarian, but I’m not sure what kind of jobs they held.”
“Farmers?”
“Maybe.”
“See, that’s another element we have in common! Genetic dirt under our fingernails!”
Allyson laughed. “We’re different yet the same.”
“A perfect balance.”
