My White Ex Soldier

“I am not a caterer. I do not own a catering business,” Desiree said slowly. She looked into his eyes as she talked. “I told you those things so you would maybe not see me as a failure. I did not want to be the one person at a speed dating event whose only hope for decent healthcare is Medicaid,” she said as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I am telling you this because I like you and I am ashamed of myself for not being honest with you. You deserve better than this. You deserve better than me,” she said before looking down. Taylor used his index finger to lift her head up. He looked into her eyes and smiled.

“I get it,” he said in a whisper. Desiree looked at him surprised.

“You do?” she asked. He nodded and smiled again.

“Yes I do,” he said with a smile. “I get that desire to want to make people think that you are not who you are. I get that need to tell someone of achievements you would like and making it sound like you have already done it. I get it all,” he said. Desiree shook her head.

“Why? Most people would be angry that I lied,” she said. She hoped he would be a good sport about this but he was being too good a sport. Maybe there was a catch.

“I don’t want to be angry with you because I don’t want you to be angry with me,” he said looking into her eyes.

“I don’t understand,” she said still looking at him.

“I am not a graphic designer, Desiree. I do menial jobs around my neighborhood. I am Mr. Fix It. I do not have a fancy lifestyle behind a desk. I don’t have a life of meetings and networking,” he said. Desiree did not know whether to be happy or said.

“What? How? I mean….” Her voice trailed off for lack of words. This time, it was Taylor’s turn to lean back. He looked at her and took a long deep breath.

“I was in the military, a Marine. I served in the Middle East for eight years but I almost died and the functionality in my left leg was compromised,” he explained.

“Oh my God,” Desiree said, her eyes wide in surprise.

“It’s nothing serious. I can still move around. It’s the day to day stress in the battlefield that I can’t handle,” he said with a smile when he saw how mortified she was. “I came back and being a Marine is all I have ever known. I was too old to go back to school for another degree so I started mowing lawns and fixing pipes,” he said.

“Wow. I am seated next to a legend,” Desiree said almost in awe. Taylor laughed.

“Come on, you are exaggerating,” he said. Desiree shook her head.

“No, you are a national hero and that story would have definitely got me going,” she said with a smile. He smiled at her and reached for his glass.

“Everyone is not like you, Dee. Some people would have thought I’m the lamest person alive,” he said. She shook her head and her gaze fell to the floor again.

“Compared to yours my story shows complete selfishness and idiocy and…” her words trailed off as he used his index finger to lift her chin up again.

“Don’t say that. Maybe there was a reason for that,” he said in a low voice almost a whisper. She looked into his eyes as he sat there looking at her. She felt at peace with him, like she needed more from him. She leaned forward and then paused. She did not want to lean in all the way. If he wanted her he would have to meet her half way…and he did.

“Oh my God. Guys! Put a sign on the door or something,” Desiree heard her sister’s voice. She looked up in shock and reached for her top on the floor. Taylor looked up and his cheeks flushed as he looked at Rochelle who was tossing him the small blanket they normally used to watch TV.

“This is so awkward,” Taylor said looking at Rochelle. Desiree looked at Rochelle and then at Taylor who had now snuggled up next to her.

“Taylor, my sister Rochelle. Rochelle, Taylor,” Desiree said.

“I’d say pleasure to meet you but I think I’ll go,” Rochelle said smiling nervously. “No offense,” she said before she quickly walked to the door. Desiree put her hands on her face and shook her head.

“I am so embarrassed. I should have probably mentioned that I have housemates,” she said. Taylor held her close but she could no longer feel the ere*tion. The awkward situation had clearly killed the mood.

“Damn you, Rochelle,” she thought.