Coming Around Again

First Chapter of My New Rom-Com

**Just a little preview of my latest manuscript. Be nice! I’m sensitive.**

Chapter 1:

     Tanned feet, hers intertwined in his, dangling off the pier, water moving slowly, the summer breeze cooling and refreshing. His arm was around her, leaning against his faded red shirt, her favorite of his, on a summer day so many years ago. Her long, brown hair periodically covered her face, and he brushed it aside for her. His hair was high and tight to follow Academy regulations. He loved her hair, her spirit, her dreams, and now, here she was again, but all alone.

     “Yes, my big toes do look like thumbs. Weird.” Her sister had been right about that. That comment kept Margo self-conscious about her feet for many years. Finally, she planned to embrace herself and release long-held insecurities. Now, how to do this? Perhaps aging fiercely meant admitting how one is and just accepting, rather than fighting it? She didn’t look much different than when she was younger, thanks to daily yoga, the desire to stay true to herself, and the complete inability to eat under stress. But on this day, she wasn’t stressed at all. She was back in a place that had wrapped her in love’s embrace for the first time. Dressed in her summer standard of long gauzy skirt and t-shirt emblazed with “Love is All You Need” and sandals, she faced the 21^st century day.

     She was probably the only person on the planet who listened to her music on an iPod through attached earbuds. “Knocks Me off My Feet” echoed in her mind as the enchanting voice of Stevie Wonder punctuated a sublime perfect summer afternoon. She’d removed her sandals and dangled her feet over the pier’s edge. Margo raised her lower legs for a moment to stretch and noticed the boniness which hadn’t been there when she was younger and used to come to this very same spot.

     Her tanned feet, bony as they were, and where she sat sent her heart reeling back to the early 1980s. “Oh, how I had loved him. The safety I felt leaning into him and feeling like I wanted time to stop… is stupid. I had nothing to offer but insecurity, crazy love, and adoration.”

     She shook her head to bring herself back into the present. “Why do I do this to myself? Damn, that was such a long time ago. But why does it feel like it just happened all over? This is stupid. I am wasting my time. I should be working on my next writing piece. But no…I have to get lost in nostalgia. Ridiculous.”

     She removed the earbuds, gathered her purse cross-shoulder, picked up her toe ring sandals in her hand, and started the hot walk back to her Airbnb. As she looked up, there it was…the Naval Academy Chapel dome in the near distance. “Oh yeah, that dream was going to happen. Love is dumb. So why do I still adore the concept?” She began to argue with herself in her mind.

       “Love is good until life interferes. It’s meant for longing, imagining what could be, swept up in magical times and fleeting moments. It is not meant for the long haul. Perhaps people should evaluate their relationship once a year, and if it’s not working, let it go. Yeah, right, that’s so romantic. How does that conversation begin? ‘Hey, time for our yearly, Should I Stay or Should I Go? Conversation.’ Yeah, that’s feasible.”

     She quickly arrived at the Market Street light, across from the historic Market Pavilion, with Middleton’s Tavern post-COVID outdoor seating spilling out onto the street. As she waited at the light, she glanced to the right, noting that some chain barbeque restaurant had replaced the Hardware store that had been there forever. Damn it, that’s what happens. Everything changes, including her.

     She planned to return to the Airbnb to work until it was time to get ready for her Presentation. “Ahh, what the hell. I’m not going to get any writing done anyway. She strolled down to the end of the street, “Now,” she said as she got to the right turn into what she supposed was the Naval Academy visitor’s parking lot. “Hmm…I wonder what the protocol is for getting into this place now? I imagine shoes are required.”

     She smiled at remembering all the rules and traditions, slipped her Thumb toes back into her sandals, quickly looked at herself in her purse mirror, and wondered, “Why does this mirror always make me look like I have an active case of cholera? Who cares what I look like? No one here was born last time I set foot on these grounds.”

     She grabbed her wallet from her purse, assuming she’d need some ID and that that would suffice for a reason to walk on the hallowed walkways of The Academy.

     “Hello, Mam,” says a boy dressed in his Summer White uniform. “What may I ask is the purpose of your business here today, and may I see your ID, please?”

     “Oh, yes, of course, here it is,” showing him her driver’s license. Oh, my business. I just wanted to take a walk down memory lane. I, uh, used to date a Middie. It was a long time ago, in the early 1980s, and I was going to step into the chapel.”

     “Mam, there’s a wedding, so the chapel is closed to visitors.”

     “Oh,” she said, feeling somewhat crestfallen. She pictured a lovely young woman dressed all in white, accompanied by her Navy guy in his Dress Mess uniform, walking arm in arm under an arch of swords held by his Naval Academy classmates. Why did they need swords? What was this, the Crusades?

     “Thank you. Yes, of course. I’m just being silly anyway—no use living in the past. But hell, the present is hard sometimes. Oh, my, I’m so sorry for my language. Where are my manners?”

     “Mam, if you don’t mind my asking, when did your Middie, I mean your old friend, I mean, not that you’re old, but you did say 1980 something….” He trailed off, flushed with pink cheeks.

     She laughed, tossing her head back, her long silvery hair blowing in the Bay Breeze. “Oh, it was a long time ago. He graduated in the early1980s. But I’m sure you have more important things to do than listen to me ramble on.”

     A line had formed behind her of some other visitors. She thanked the kindly young midshipman and headed back up the street. Just as she left the gate, the Middie on Duty yelled, “Mam, they’re, I mean, a 1980s class is having their reunion this week.”

     But Margo didn’t hear him, as she had popped in her earbuds and was listening loudly to Tunnel of Love. “Damn it; I will enjoy this day if it kills me. I don’t feel like cooking. I’ll grab a bite to eat downtown. Besides, I’m dying of thirst!”

      She started to check the mirror and said, “No, who cares what I look like? I will get lemonade and soak more sun because I am a confident woman.”

     She made sure her Canon SLR camera, still attached to the strap she had purchased when she was fourteen, was on one shoulder. Then she rested one hand on her purse, slung cross body on her other shoulder, and strode confidently up the street, people watching all the way.

     Maybe she would sit outside, eat, and enjoy this perfect weather. She looked at the menu posted outside Middleton’s Tavern, and the twelve-year-old hostess cheerfully greeted her. “Welcome to Middleton’s Tavern. Did you want to wait to be seated until your other party joins you, Mam?”

     “No, it’s just me. Just me. And I’m fine with that,” Margo said with a smile.

     “Oh, I’m sorry, Mam…I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that most women of your age, I mean, not that you’re old….”

     “Not to worry. Do you have any outdoor seating available?”
     A group of men clinking beer bottles together, along with boisterous laughter, filled the air.

      “Preferably away from the elderly frat boys reliving their glory days.”

     “Oh, that’s just a reunion group of Middies. They’re harmless, and those groups are usually really good tippers.”

      Margo turned as the wind covered her face with her long hair. She struggled with getting it out of her mouth, gagging slightly on a semi-swallowed piece. When she finally cleared enough away so that her field of vision was clear, she saw Him. Those eyes, those smoky, dark eyes, met hers as she pulled a half-swallowed, wet piece of hair from her throat and quickly wiped it on her skirt. “Great, she thought to herself; I haven’t seen Danny in years, and I have gag juice on my breath. Magic moment.”

     He walked over to her, carrying his beer bottle in hand, that seductive smile she loved so on his handsome face, and still fit as he was in his Academy days. They embraced-no hesitation, no awkwardness, no permission necessary. She realized unexpected tears were forming in her eyes and, to her great surprise, in His too!

     “You look amazing, Margo. How did you know we would be here?”

      The embrace ended, and the awkwardness began. “Well, I didn’t…I was coming here to have a bite to eat. I didn’t feel like cooking.”

      “Oh, you still live around here?”

      “No, I am here staying at an Airbnb across from The State House. I have a speaking engagement at St. John’s College. You know, well, you probably don’t know, but my daughter graduated from there. They invited me there for a Book Signing, and I’m doing a reading.” (In her head, “Oh my god, he looks amazing. Fit, smile lines and twinkles at the eyes. How is his hair still brown?”)

     “Wow, you did it. You’re a writer! I figured when you left Syracuse U., you had given up on that dream.”

      “No, just put it on the proverbial back burner while life happened.”

      “Go, Go, Girl!” It was Danny’s best friend and fellow former Middie, Chaz. “Come on over and have a beer with us. Guys, do you remember Dan-O’s girlfriend from our Academy days?”

     In unison, they all roared, “Go, Go, Girl!”

     “Well, this is mortifying,” she mumbled. I feel like all of Annapolis is looking at us.”

     “Yeah, come on over.” Danny walked over to the hostess with every bit of confidence and tall stature as ever and said to her, “We will have one more joining us, please. Margo, what do you want to eat?”

      She felt queasy from excitement but did not think Pepto Bismol would be on the menu. “Oh, uh, something light,” as she struggled to get her reading glasses out of her hair. She scanned the menu when she finally got the Readers on her face and replied, “Just a Caesar salad and an iced tea, please.”

     “What, now you’re a teetotaler? I think you used to be able to drink me under the table!” he said with that smile that always melted her into a puddle.

     “True enough, but I must be sharp for my evening presentation. I can’t walk in there speaking about ‘The Intersection of Loneliness and The Writing Process’ while slurring my words. Or maybe if I walked up to the podium slinging a beer, it would punctuate the life of a struggling writer.”

     And they both laughed heartily. He always did love her humor, and she, his.

     “Oh, is this your Reunion? I thought you swore you’d never go to one!”

     “Yeah, I wasn’t going to go. You know, but it’s been years, and Chaz can be so convincing. I needed a change of venue anyway.”

     “Oh, the hustle and bustle of the NYC Finance world finally too much for you and the wife?”

      “I’m, uh, divorced recently.”

      “Oh, my stars, I’m so sorry!” (In her head, she was thinking, “Oh, now it’s awkward. Am I actually sorry?”) “How long are you in town for? It would be nice to catch up.” (Back in her head, “Damn it, I shouldn’t have said that. So needy!”) Oh, but you probably have a tight schedule of reunion duties to attend,” and her voice trailed off.

     As they approached the group, he casually said, “I’m here for the week.”

     In her mind, which was working overtime, she pondered, “Does that mean he does want to catch up? Does it mean he is busy? Oh, he is just as evasive as always. What the hell am I doing?”

     The hostess brought a chair and her iced tea over. “What, our beer not good enough for you now?” Chaz chided. (His Navy nickname was ‘Chaz Hands’) Everyone laughed. “We won’t keep you long so you can get home to your hubby to make dinner.”

     “I have a commitment this evening and need to be clear-headed. I live alone, thank you very much.”

     Oh my god, Danny smelled good. He always did. “Margo, I’m so glad you let your hair stay natural. So many women look so phony. It’s nice that you are still true to yourself.” (Why did she feel like she was in an ad for Purple Shampoo for Aging Gracefully?)

     “Choking on that piece of my silvers earlier was certainly special.” They both laughed in unison and so easily.

      Mostly, she tried to listen to their stories of the days of yore and laugh along. She was glad her chair was facing the sun so if nothing else, she would have sun-kissed cheeks for her Reading in the evening, and Danny was next to hers. She found herself gazing at him, and he at her in conversation, eliminating everyone from their conscious plane.

     “So, where’s ‘home’ these days?” Danny inquired.

      “Sedona, Arizona. I just love the environment. It’s so filled with life and also the quiet I crave. Well, sometimes I crave it, and sometimes it smothers me.” (In her head, “Oh god, now I sound like a bi-polar basket case.”)

      “I love that part of the country. Those red rocks are pretty amazing.” (inside his head, “‘Amazing,’ what a stupid word choice. She probably thinks I’m patronizing her.”)

      Chaz chimed in loudly, not at all unexpectedly, “Go, Go, didn’t you write a book on the enchantment of that area? Something about a vortex of energy?” The group laughed rather rudely.

     Danny stepped in, pissed off that they were making fun of her. “She’s a writer, which is a hell of a lot more than any of you can say. She changed careers, made it happen for herself, and you can all just shut the fuck up!”

      Margo was internally complimented that Danny came to her rescue, but unlike her younger self, she did not need verbal rescuing and went about proving it. “Chaz, you sound as if you are an expert, so Dr. Howard, your professional assessment of the geology and effects on the atmosphere in that area is….”

     The group, in unison, said, “BURN! Oh, she put you in your place, Chaz Hands!”

      “Okay, men, let’s lighten up,” Danny strongly suggested. Then he leaned over to Margo, “Sorry, I just, well, I guess even after all these years, I feel protective of you. Go figure.”

      “Hey, I appreciate the save and the time to consider my comeback. And I am used to people chiding me and many others from that area about that subject. It’s okay. I do feel the energetic difference when I’m there and always have. I have no idea what it is. I really don’t. At first, it made me panic, like it was too much energy. I lack a word beyond ‘energy,” ‘so that’s my go-to. I know that the environment is freeing me up to banish my internal censor and to give me the confidence to try and make it as a writer.”

      “Your Chapter Two, eh? Yeah, I’ve been heavily considering what to do as mine. I loved the world of high finance, I did, but lately, it just hasn’t been fulfilling, but I have no fucking idea what to do next?”

      “When we were young, you said the Navy was a stepping stone to your next career. And from the sounds of it, via Ellie, you have done quite well for yourself. But I certainly get wanting something different after a while. I’m just guessing you have the Portfolio to give yourself a sabbatical to figure it out and be fine financially.” (In her head, “Oh, that was forward. I should not be talking about his finances. It sounds like I have intimate knowledge of his bank accounts.”) I mean, if you wanted to take time away, you might find what you did or did not want to do.”

      “I’m embarrassed that I’m just beginning to be aware of the world outside of finance. Our country is so ass-backward in many ways, with childhood poverty, eating insecurity, food deserts…I was reading that the Navajo Nation largely has no access to running water in their homes. That is just wrong!” (In his head, “Great, now I sound like some Greenpeace Activist wanna-be”)

     “Hey, we have so much to catch up on. I don’t think we’ll be able to do this all in one lunch. I hate to eat and run, but I’ve got to run to get some downtime before my Presentation and run back over it so I don’t sound like some hack in front of my posh, knowledgeable audience. The College was so kind to invite me back, and I don’t want to disappoint them.”

      She felt nineteen again, but she wasn’t. After she finished her salad, she began to pull money out of her purse. Danny put his hand over hers. “No need-we’ve got this. Besides, who carries cash anymore? You do use Cash Apps, don’t you?”

     She felt stupid and simple. Her response was snippier than she would have liked, “Thank you all for lunch. Yes, I do use Cash Apps; I am not lost in the 20^th Century.” (She took a deep breath to compose herself). “Thank you for lunch. What an unexpected delight.” (In her head, “Who says that? ‘Unexpected delight’ What am I, the Queen of some small, unknown country?”)

     He stood and pulled his phone out. “Let’s get together without the gaggle of geezers.”

     “You realize we, too, are part of the geezers.” And they laughed. Margo gave him her number, and he promised to text her later to schedule a day and time. (In her head, “Should I ask him for his number too? No, I need to ride the tide and go with the flow. I’m not 19.”)

     “How about tomorrow night at Harry Browne’s?” he said, even though two seconds ago, he was going to text.

      “Are you sure? The group might have a Tug-of-War planned or something and need you as whatever the last person on the rope is called.” She smiled a wry smile. “The last time we went to that restaurant, it had just opened. Now, it’s a popular hangout for legislators and bigwigs. Do you think we’ll be able to get reservations on such short notice?”

     “Let’s find out.” So, he looked up the number, called, and seconds later, they had a reservation for 7:00 PM tomorrow.

     “I’ll meet you over there,” she confirmed with independence. The place I’m staying is only one street away. Where are you staying?”

     “The Annapolis Hilton. Let me text you, so you have my number…not that anything will come up, but in case it does.”

     (In her head: “What? He has grown up. What do I care? It’s dinner. That’s all it is. Dinner between two old friends, catching up on too many years. Oh my god, what am I going to wear? I’ll think about that later.”) Her phone pinged, so she knew she had received his number.

     “Bye, Go Go, Girl,” said the group VERY loudly. (In her head, “Why did they have to bequeath me a Middie nickname, too?”)

     “Bye, good to see you, boys. I’ll see you tomorrow at 7:00, Flyboy,” turning as her skirt twirled in the breeze, and she was off for the short stroll to Maryland Ave. She still had her girlish figure. She did not pretend to be younger than she was; she had adopted the idea and life of aging, but that didn’t mean ‘old and crotchety.’

       Her scheduled presentation was at 7:00, just across from The State House, so still within walking distance, and she wanted to decompress. That would prove futile. All she could think of was Danny.