Hmmmmm.

Okay.

So, Mr. Arbitrage got home from Hawaii late Wednesday night.  He called me and I didn’t recognize his voice – I thought he was Mr. Steadfast! – and I was surprised, because I assumed he would have gone straight to bed, especially since we were both going to be up early the next day.  But he did call, and the funny thing is I can’t remember why now.  Maybe just to say that he arrived home safe and that he was still going to pick me up at a certain place the next morning.

So Thursday morning I threw a book and some cross-stitch projects and my bathing suit into my backpack, and headed off into the dawn.

Mr. Arbitrage picked me up and I kept looking over at him as he drove.  I felt stupid.

At his house, he gave me the tour, and I kept hearing myself saying things like, "Ah.  Green," or "It smells good in here."  In the garden I couldn’t help laughing because he has a section devoted to herbs which he couldn’t name and never uses in his cooking.  He likes how they look.  I met the geranium that I joke is the Music Shivers geranium, because he planted it in September 1979 (the month I was born) – it was a kindergarten project for him, and he has kept it alive ever since.  I can’t help thinking that’s possibly a romantic thing.

Somewhere during the tour, I looked up at him, and his eyes were full of zing.  At least, I found myself saying "Oooh," and moving in for a hug.  He sort of patted me and said "Awwww."  I felt even more stupid.

After the tour, I said, "Me need nap now."  He took me to the guest room and stayed matter-of-factly by the door while telling me that the sheets were all clean and good to go, and I flumped down on the mattress.  Just before he left I said, "Oh.  I guess you should wake me up in half an hour."

"Half an hour?!  That’s not a real nap."

"It is in my world … "

"No, no, you need at least an hour and a half."

"Oh, no, then I’ll be having too much sleeping time, not enough being time … "

"Well, I will be working in the office … "

"I did bring things to do while you work … "

"True … "

"So make it an hour then."

"All right.  G’night!"  He turned off the light and closed the door.

I think I lay for ten minutes listening to him clicking the mouse in the next room, feeling like I was going to barf.  How did I end up here?  What the heck was I doing?

I slept.

I woke up and noticed that I was breathing very easily.  No sense of cloggedness.  I guess I take clogged slightly for granted.  No refluxing, either.  Very comfortable mattress.  I revelled in the sense of physical comfort for a moment.  Then I got up and tiptoed to a corner where some hangers were hanging haphazard from an exposed pipe going through a corner of the ceiling.  I carefully arranged the hangers so that they were all hanging one from the other like those barrel-monkeys, with the head of each hanger exactly in the middle.  Once that was perfect, I emerged again.

I peeked into his office and saw him sitting at his desk, comfortable but sort of upright, in T-shirt and shorts, a sea of numbers floating before him on two screens.  I said, "Good morning!"

He turned around, and stood up.  "Hey!"

We stood there and regarded each other for a moment.

I had been thinking up till that moment, "He’s regretting this whole thing.  He’s seeing me in a new light and realizing he’s not attracted to me at all."  But in that moment, I thought, "Nah.  There’s some kind of zing."

And he was the one who stepped forward and gave me a big hug.  "How was the nap?"

"Great.  Bizarre dreams though.  Good air quality."  Before he had processed this, I said, "Come see what I did!"

He followed me into the guest room.  He looked and said carefully, mouth twitching, "What a cool … coat-hanger structure … you’ve made … "

And then I went upstairs and started making soup.  He came up now and then to chat a little (when he used the word "peon" and I told him I’d never heard it before, he went downstairs to wikipedia it) and to look with interest at my cooking.  He seemed intrigued by the way I tempered the eggs before adding them to the broth (making sure they won’t solidify into clumps of cooked egg).

One time he poked his head around the staircase and said, "That’s smelling really good!!  Um … when will it be ready?"

"Patience, patience," I said, wagging a spoon.  "It won’t be long now … "

He ate three bowls without me realizing it.

There were moments of silent but not uncomfortable munching.  And yakking along various lines.

Then hot tub time.  I said, "You know how I hadn’t shaved since Christmas?  Well, this morning I meant to wake up early and de-fur myself, but somehow sleep seemed more important at the time."

"I don’t care," he said.

"Good."

He said, "So I guess you probably would like me to wear something?"  (He’s sort of a nudist around the house.  We’d already discussed this.)

To his surprise, I shrugged, "Honestly, Mr. Arbitrage, if you don’t make it a big deal, I won’t either.  It’s what you usually do."

We compared fur in the hot-tub.  "Hey, we’re about the same," he said, and I retorted, "You’ve got blonde hair on olive skin, and I have dark hair on fair skin."  He looked more closely and had to agree that his hair was actually thicker.

Then it was time to go.  At the door, he grinned, "See?  Spent a day together and nothing untoward happened."

"Yeah, but I better not look at your eyes too much," I laughed.

"Oh?"

"That Abba song starts up in my head and I have to keep from jumping you."

"Well, this is good!"

We drove to a certain beach I’ve never gone to.  It has about 400 stairs that lead down to it.  I was nervous about the ascent.  Down at the beach (beautiful!!), he told me not to worry: "Most of my friends take those stairs in 3 to 15 minutes.  You’ll probably fit somewhere in the middle."

I said, "Um.  What if I take longer than fifteen minutes?"

He said, deadpan casual, "Then it was nice knowing you."

I gasped.

He burst into laughter and hugs.  "I’m kidding!  I’m kidding!"  I pretended to sob.

A tree jutted out over the beach and I ran over to climb it.  He followed, hesitant at first, but then the camera came out and we were taking pictures of each other in the tree.  That was another moment when I thought, "He likes me!  He really likes me!"

Then time for the stairs.

"Are you ready for this?" he grinned.

"Yep.  Here I go … "

He looked at his watch and pressed a button.

I started up, feeling resolute.

Behind me, I heard him calling, "Hey.  You might want to slow down."

I shifted into exagerated slow-motion.

He gently showed me the way he walks when he hikes.  "The step itself is fast but there is a moment of rest in between each one.  You need fewer actual breaks and you conserve energy."

I tried it out, with him alongside as metronome.  It felt good.  At one point he said, "Hey, we’re halfway there."

"Seriously?  What was I worried about?  But that means we should stop and look around … "  So we did.  It was beautiful.

And then back.

I ran the last couple of steps and said "What’s my time?"

"Eight minutes," he smiled.  "Not bad at all."

I felt glowing and healthy and alive.

Back in the car, I said, "Hey, thank you!"

He said, "We’re not done yet.  There’s still the drive into downtown," and we started off.  He took the scenic route.  And then, his hand.  In my hand.  The radio was on.  Trees were blossoming.  Wind blew in through the windows.  I felt … as if I was watching myself, thinking: So.  This is what they mean.  Hunh.  That simple gesture I have always, always missed in my pseudo-relationships.  Hand-holding.  To me, something slightly more … committed? … than a kiss.  Somehow, hand-holding hadn’t come up in our list of things not to do yet.  But it felt … natural.  Comfortable.

He drove me to my brother’s place and we went in.  When P1 answered the buzzer I said "Hey Bro-bro," and he unthinkingly said "Hey Sis-sis" back at me.  Once inside the building, Mr. Arbitrage turned to me and said, "Bro-bro and Sis-sis?"  "It’s a thing," I smiled.  He seemed charmed.

I turned to him in the elevator and said, "Are you really ready for this?"

"Sure. I don’t mind meeting them."

"No, I mean, the tiny size of the apartment, the clutter, the smell of baby-ness … "

"Sure … "

P1 met us at the door.  I did the introductions.  P1 knows about Mr. Arbitrage.  As a matter of fact I’ve been enlisting P1 and Asterope to pray for me in this situation.  Both are concerned.  But everyone was civil.  Mr. Arbitrage came with me straight to the sort of baby-cage that is the living room.

And my nephew started to cry.

I picked him immediately and made those random noises and inane comments that rise to female’s lips when such a thing happens.  He calmed down a bit.  Then, I wanted to go get my neice, so I handed my nephew to Mr. Arbitrage; my nephew immediately started to bawl.

Mr. Arbitrage made a laughing kind of cringe and said "Oh no, I hope it’s not me!!"  He passed my nephew back and I set him down on the floor.

"Um, … dance!" I said to Mr. Arbitrage.  "Sometimes it makes him laugh!"

Immediately, Mr. Arbitrage joined me in an improvised boogie.

My nephew gave one confused smile, and then started bawling again.

P1 said "It’s time for their feed."

So I went to the kitchen to warm up a bottle while Mr. Arbitrage sat with the twins in their pen.  My nephew continued to bawl and my neice came over calmly to play with Mr. Arbitrage.  When I came back with the bottle, my nephew was sort of hiccuping, and my neice was smiling as Mr. Arbitrage showed her a new way of putting some toys together.  She was trying it out.

My nephew calmed right down as I settled him on my lap and gave him the bottle.  He looked up at Mr. Arbitrage curiously and sucked away.

Mr. Arbitrage stood up and looked down at us.  I felt like a Madonna with my curls flowing about me.  He said, "I have to get going to my appointment, but let’s chat tomorrow if we can? … "

My free hand went up, his hands went down and stroked mine for a moment.

And I can’t even begin to talk about the rest of the day (I think I lived two days in one) because I have to go to bed now, or be a zombie tomorrow morning when I teach.

Aaaaaand the confusion continues.