Mistakes and Regrets

 

The clock in the living room chimes nine, and I am still in bed. Highly unusual.

The morning sun warms my bedroom through the still closed curtains, yet I continue to lay here, considering my mistakes...

·       Thinking I could wear a slinky dress at age 55. I imagined myself looking sexy but when I caught a glimpse in the mirror, I simply resembled a boa constrictor that had swallowed a writhing prize-winning pig.

·       Buying an e-bike and trying to transport it to the trailhead on the back of my 2010 Honda Fit. The weight of the bike damaged the frame of the car and now the car tires scrape the undercarriage.

·       Buying a large bag of Brussel sprouts at the farmer’s market without knowing how to prepare them - and throwing them in the trash before leaving home for a long weekend. Neighbors called the police thinking the smell was from a decomposing body or a septic leak in my apartment. I can still smell them on humid days.

·       Trusting Kevin. That is my biggest regret of them all.

I met Kevin during an online gaming competition. We were opponents and my team won the tournament trophy along with the hefty cash prize. He later messaged me through the tourni forum with congratulations and said he admired my skills. We chatted back and forth for a couple of weeks before he suggested we meet in the real world. I said yes. We exchanged photos and agreed to meet at a diner near my apartment at 6:00 the following evening.

Getting ready for my date with Kevin, I was nervous. What to wear? Well, I knew I wouldn’t be wearing a slinky dress. I settled for a nice shirt and khakis, my usual kind of outfit. I curled my hair, dabbed some foundation on my face and dotted my cheeks with rouge. Ready.

He was already seated when I arrived and waved me to his booth. He stood as I approached and kissed my cheek before we slid in on opposite sides. He was pale, but nice looking with neatly trimmed hair. He wore a polo and khakis, similar to me. We had such a nice time eating our burgers and chatting, comparing notes about different games we enjoyed. At one point, we both reached for the ketchup at the same time, and our hands touched. It was electric. He let me use the condiment first.

It was almost 8:00pm when our waitress gave us the bill and a pointed look that indicated she wanted us to cash out and skedaddle. I suggested we continue our conversation at my apartment, and Kevin agreed.

We strolled the two blocks through the late summer twilight. He held my hand. I thought we might have something special. Something real.

I invited Kevin to have a seat on the sofa in my little living room and asked if he’d like a glass of wine. I had most of a box of rosé in the refrigerator. He said that sounded good. So I poured two glasses. We talked more about work and gaming and life. I excused myself to use the bathroom and when I came back, Kevin had poured us each another glass of wine. Mine tasted a little funny, but I’m not a big drinker, so didn’t think much about it. Until I got woozy.

Now, lying in bed in the middle of the morning, head pounding, I’m sure Kevin drugged me. And left me, still wearing my nice shirt and khakis, tied to my bed. I see that my tournament trophy is missing, and my purse has been dumped out on my dresser so I’m guessing he also stole my cash along with my credit cards. I wonder if he took the rest of the rosé?

Will anyone come looking for me? If they don’t, I hope I won’t smell like rotting Brussel sprouts.