So We Meet Again, Mrs. Quiet Man

The party was on a Saturday, December 8. I was having one of my normal lazy days since my mother died. Even if I rose early, I would vegetate for most of the day, during weekends, not rising to shower until past 12 pm. On this day, I remained in bed most of the day and at about 1 or 2 pm, rose to shower for the party that started at 4.

I must have put on four to five outfits. What would you wear to a Christmas Party thrown in a garage full of strange looking cars from years gone by? The garage was very clean and spotless and that meant I could wear anything and it would not soil.

I tried on two black cocktail dresses but decided against them for two reasons-too revealing for a garage and it was too damned cold to wear them even under a full length coat. I tried various sweater and skirt combinations and finally settled on a sweater I wore last year only and I knew Quiet Man would not remember it an if he did, so what? I could hardly pull myself out of my own bed, how could I have shopped for something new?

The sweater was tight fitting and did not have a plunging neckline. I wore it over a dark wool below the knee knit skirt and had on the olive colored stilettos, without stockings. I powdered my legs with Warmth, that nonsense I have not found any other use for from the Bare Escentuals kit. I did not have time to apply any bronzer, but the bare skin that was showing was not bad.

I left my home at about 4 pm, to drive the less than ten minutes to the garage. I made the turn towards the garage and I was met by a gaudy black Cadillac making a u-turn in front of me-he was obviously going to the party and got lost. I recognized this idiot as a local mafia wannabe, in other words, a short graying EYEtalian with some money who thinks more of himself than others think of him. I was annoyed he slowed me down because he drove slow.

I end up pulling into a spot next to this idiot, who I was glad to not have seen for the rest of the night.

I see Fred pulling trays of food out of his car. We greeted each other hello. I went into the office and was met by a female acquaintance who was friends with my mother. She was there with her two teenage girls. I thought it was odd she brought them, but she let everyone know that she was scheduled to attend another Christmas Party. Like we cared.

I saw Mrs. Fred, who I had met previously and chatted with her and her two girls. The eldest girl did not attend.

So my mother’s friend, Laura, becomes my minder, which I despise. She starts off by insisting I hang out with her, eat with her and drink with her. I was wishing her nerd assed husband would come already and take my place.

I saw Ricky at the bar and we both “screamed” out greetings to each other and embraced. Laura of course was observing, what I don’t know. Minding was more like it, I thought.

Ricky asks me what I wanted to drink. He offered a few liquors, but I declined. He told me he had the wine we had previously, knowing to not say it was the night we all hung out until past 4 am.

“Oh, thank you, Ricky,” I told him, while feeling Laura’s minding gaze on me with Ricky, “I love that wine.”

He poured me a glass and we then toasted amongst ourselves. Laura was drinking some nonsense trying to get me to commit to a coffee date with her. I tried to act as interested as I could, since she was working closely with the son with the famous mother and don’t think for one second she does not relish that or throw it around for you to drool about, or so she thinks.

I saw Quiet Man in the corner of my eye, running around doing things. I decided to ignore him. I did not see Mrs. Quiet Man but I did see his son. It was weird she was not there and I thought to myself, good thing.

As I was talking to Laura, trying to not assume Chinese water torture was a better fate, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and it was Quiet Man. He was dressed very casually with a brilliant red shirt which looked fantastic on him. In fact, I was the most formally dressed person in the place, but what was I to do? I had my long locks curled and partly piled in part high in the back of my head, with the rest cascading down my back past my waist. I had on only mascara on the outer edges of my eyes, elongating the lashes and the vinyl pink lip gloss that was doing it’s thing.

Quiet Man touches my shoulder from behind and reaches to embrace me and I responded. We hugged and kissed each other on the cheek. I could feel Laura’s eyes boring through my back, the bitch. We said hello to each other while leaning back still holding on to each other and then we continue on with what we were doing prior to saying hello.

I turned to look at Laura and introduced her quickly and Quiet Man had not any interest in meeting her.

I saw Berman with Mrs. Fred, whose name is Marsha. Marsha called Laura and I in to eat. I really did not want to eat, but there was nothing else going on, since people were not arriving steadily. Marsha cooked, I have to admit, the most delicious mini samosas, which I never ate before, and the most non greasy and delicious chicken wings. I told her the same as well.

I decided to sit at Quiet Man’s desk which was in the room where the food was. It also was the same room people came into the party. I knew I was going to be drinking regularly that night and since I had not eaten that day, due to my sojourn in my bed, I made myself a plate and ate.

I sat there eating, with of course, Laura right next to me and she was next to me at the food table. Quiet Man came by for a few seconds, and insisted I not move from my spot, for he had to get something out of his desk, which was the cigars we smoke. He lifts out the beautifully made box and points to the lovers on the lid. I don’t know what he meant by that, but I acted like I did not notice he did that because the minder was watching. I told him I was going to put my evening purse in his desk, which was fine with him. The minder I felt, took that information and made mental notes to use later on for whatever devious gossip she had to generate.

I was being “noticed” by a few men at this party. There were some wealthy men there, who were interested in the cars as well and who were friends with Quiet Man or Fred or both.

I was trying to only make small talk with Marsha. Fred comes by and winks hello to me again.

“Hi Fred,” I said, wishing he did not do that.

“Marsha,” he says “Muse is the girl who was with me that night, referring to his almost arrest at 1:30 am.

I rolled my eyes in disbelief that he just did that. I don’t understand Fred. His marriage is an arranged one, and he vascillates back and forth from faithful husband to cheating ass husband. I wish he would just keep to one persona so I could keep track of him.

Now I know Marsha has no idea that her drunk husband had his hands all over me, but I know it was just the liquor talking that night and Fred and I talked about it and its an issue that is over.

Marsha looks at me smiling, saying “Oh.”

“Oh Marsha,” I started to beat her to the punch, “I felt so bad for Fred, the cop was so abusive to him, I never saw anything like that in my life.”

I did not let her get in one word edgewise as I continued to pummel her with the details of the night as it concerned the “evil” cop and her sitting duck husband.

She seemed interested in the details of the almost arrest, and questioned me about various things such as time and places we went. I answered her easily, not saying anything about the go-go club. Berman is her best friend and he took me aside and told me Fred was honest with her about the whole night, EXCEPT his grabbing me, and she knew we went to the go-go club.

Marsha has the intelligence level of a turnip, but a dogged one. Despite this skill, she is not any match for me. I basically told her that she was lucky her husband was with me that night; translation: I don’t like him in that way. I re-iterated that I was her husband’s friend for over a year and she never went to these events and he does speak about her and their children and his mother often.

We even discussed getting together for coffee. Fred came over at this point and was so happy I was making friends with his wife. I think he thought I would be taking some of the pressure off of him with her.

Weirdly enough, we chatted and laughed at the party like two girl friends. She even took me around to see the cars, which I am totally not interested in at all. Later on in the party, she stuck to Fred like glue. He was nice to her, sitting with her and taking photographs of he and she in various cars and poses. She showed me the photos which I complimented heavily.

After that, Quiet Man stops to chat with me after I was sick and tired of the cars. He introduced me to his son. I was just trying to get back to the bar where Ricky was to chat. His son was cordial but neither of us had any interest in the other.

I go back to Ricky for more wine. I notice the red headed man who Fred introduced me to at his party. I was so glad to ignore him. He was there with a date or his wife, yet trying to catch my attention. He would pass me, then turn to look at me. I ignored him.

I went back to what I call the food room, and Marsha and her daughters, who are so cute, were trying to get Marsha to eat something. She refused. I asked her why.

“Fred no like,” she said in her lilting accent.

“What do you mean, you are on a diet or something?”

She giggled a bit and looked at me and said “Well, yes.”

I asked her if Fred looked like Hercules. She looked at me oddly and said no.

“Well, until he looks like that, you can eat what you want.”

Fred is this small spindly man any decently shaped woman can back had very nicely. His fabulous wealth must give him that je ne sais quoi I happen to not see.

Marsha laughed and then ate a sandwich made with crackers for bread made by her middle daughter.

Berman was there smiling ear to ear. I did not know at that point Berman provided most of the plattered food. He seemed to take an inordinate type of pride in having plattered food for this party.

I was making small talk with Berman when Marsha, time bomb that she is, tells me her husband came home that night of the almost arrest, at 3 am. Acting with genuine surprise, I looked at Berman and said, ”Now Berman, where on earth did you and Fred go after you dropped me off at home?”

Berman was quite shocked and surprised that he could not answer right away.

“Marsha, they dropped me off a 1 am and I cannot believe that the ten minute ride to your house took two hours!” I declared.

Marsha did not know what to say. Berman was still looking for something to come out of his mouth.

“Muse,” the rattled Berman said, “we went straight away to Fred’s house after we dropped you off.”

“You did?”

“Yes, Muse, of course!”

“Well Marsha, all I know is I was home at 1 am,” I told her.

In fact, I really thought I got home at 1 am but when I thought about it two days later, it really was closer to 3 am.

At this point, I had about enough of Marsha as I could take. I made my way back to Ricky, who jumped up as soon as he saw me coming. Ricky is a big flirt because he likes me. Quiet Man told me such.

Faithfully, Ricky fills up my glass. At this point, I was like where is Quiet Man? I thought he was sitting at his desk. I glanced in quickly and saw him. I was going to go in and talk to him talking to Fred, but then I saw Mrs. Quiet Man enter the room.

I stayed where I was at the entrance from where the cars where kept and Quiet Man’s office. I was thinking, OK, let’s see how this goes. Quiet Man always says his wife does not question what he does. Well I guess that was kind of true, because she never calls him when we are all hanging out. He says she goes to bed at 9:30 am each night, and well, that may be why she does not call. Quiet Man says he sleeps mostly 2 hours per night. He is that weird.

“Muse, Muse!” Quiet Man calls to me.

“You remember my wife?” he asked me.

Damn him, now I have to talk to her.

“Dalma, you remember my friend, Muse?”

“Hello,” she said to me smiling.

“Hello Dalma,” I greeted her.

“Muse, you introduce my wife to son with famous mother and all others you know, OK?” asked Quiet Man as he left me with his wife.

WTF?

“Well, if I see them,” I replied, thinking, there was no way in hell I was going to introduce her to anyone; if someone came up to greet me, then yes, I would introduce her.

“I am so sorry about your mother,” Dalma told me.

“Thank you,” I replied, ”It was a horrible thing.”

Dalma was very nice, I could not say she was not.

We made some strained small talk, not because she was unfriendly but because I was weird-ed out standing next to her.

Somehow I managed to leave her in her spot. She went back into the food room. She was talking with Marsha. I found out a few days later from Quiet Man that she was telling Dalma of her worries about me being interested in Fred. Dalma had no interest in talking to the turnip Marsha because Dalma does not want to be Marsha’s friend. Following all this, because it’s too weird for me.

I knew at the party Marsha would be involving Dalma in her jealously conspiracy. Marsha would be better off having a more intelligent grip on her husband than the nonsense she uses now.

Apparently Dalma told Marsha that I and Fred are mismatched in her opinion and what would I, Muse, see in Fred? Made sense to me. How odd that Dalma would be defending me, a person she does not know.

I decided at this point that from thereon in, I was taking my place next to Ricky behind the bar.

Ricky was more than accommodating. He told me his wife did not come to the party because she was sick and even if she was not, she did not like to come at all. Ricky then grabs me around the waist to give me a quick pull.

Whoa, Ricky I told him, hold your horses-he laughed.

So I was leaning on the bar, and Marsha and Dalma come to stay at the opposite side of the bar. I made talk about Marsha’s food-so Dalma bring over to the bar the two trays holding the samosas and the chicken wings.

They begin to chat with us and eat. After a while, they start to hang out in the vicinity of the bar. Quiet Man enters the room with a rush, he was drinking Chivas on the rocks for quiet some time, and tries to give me a cigar.

“Muse, this cigarra, is for you,” he said using his own language for cigar.

“Oh, no thank you Quiet Man,” I pleaded.

There was no way in hell I was going to smoke with him in front of the minder, Marsha and Dalma. What was he thinking?

He kept trying to give me a cigar. He gave one to Ricky, who lit it up and started to smoke. Ricky was wondering why I would not take the cigar. I whispered to him that the women would gossip about me and he said, yes, they will all talk behind your back, those bitches. I really liked Ricky then. I told Ricky to tell Quiet Man in his language why I did not want the cigar Quiet Man placed in front of me.

“Muse, this is for you,” said Quiet Man as he plopped the cigar sealed in it’s own glass case in front of me.

“Quiet Man,” I said, “come around here, we need to tell you something.”

He came and Ricky told him in his native tongue about the women and Quiet Man seemed to understand. Later, Quiet Man told me he did that to show that nothing was being hidden from anyone, and he did it on purpose.

Quiet Man went on his way again. I was watching him every once in a while, seeing him drink, smoke and laugh with the men. Mrs. Quiet Man was pretty much on her own, except for a few times he introduced people to his wife, made a joke about meeting her in church and wanted to see more than her legs in a skirt. I think he glanced at me when he said that, because I was probably so obvious in listening in that loud conversation. Once he was holding her around her shoulder and kissed her on her forehead. It was kind weird his interaction with her.

Eventually she left, I do not remember her saying goodbye to me, but she probably did. I found out later from Quiet Man, she came late to the party because she was not going at first, because of death in her family in their native country and a friend called and asked he why she did not go. That is when she decided to come for a while. Her son left at the same time she did.

Quiet man was dragging around a glass bottle of Chivas that was so large it had its own handle. He was holding his liquor pretty well.

He came around to see what I was doing eventually. He would hold or embrace me while he was talking to others. He would hold me by my waist or put his hand on the backside of my hip. At this point, I was, what do I care? The attention filled an empty void for me. Also, he held my shoulders as he did his wife and kissed me on my forehead as he had kissed her. I thought that odd. No one raised an eyebrow or thought it lurid in anyway, because it was not, at least to me.

Eventually the party was dwindling down. Ricky was demanding to know what I was doing, because I made a mention of leaving.

“Oh, no you are not going,” said Ricky,” you are going to stay with us for later. I told you that, so you are going no where!”

“Ok, Ricky,” was all the invitation I needed. All I was going to do was go back to an empty house.

Prior to the dwindling down, I was back in the food room with Marsha. I was standing next to her, talking with her about stupid stuff, like how I would tell Fred to be more romantic with her. Fred runs into the room and says hello to me again. Another guest entered the room and Fred greets him and turns to me and by mistake introduced me as his wife.

We all started laughing, even Marsha. So I corrected Fred’s glaring error. It was weird, yes it was, for all the mistakes for Fred to make!

“Oh, no!” said Fred, laughing and slapping himself in the head. He could think of nothing to explain why he had a slip of the tongue.

I wanted to re-apply for like the fourth time, my lip gloss, which was in Quiet Man’s desk. There was Quiet Man, Fred and Marsha sitting talking to each other. I was so proud of Fred, sitting with his wife, finally. He looked like he was half in the bag too.

Quiet Man insists I sit with them.

“Freddy, if Muse’s mother was here with use tonight, we would all be sitting here talking and laughing with her, wouldn’t we?” said Quiet Man

“Oh, yes, Quiet Man, with Muse’s Mother, we would be having a good time with her, of course!” replied Fred.

They were so sweet. They really liked my mother and that is something I find so nice in them and why I like them so much.

I knew Fred was trying to get his wife to leave to go home with the kids so he could hang out with us. But Marsha was not having any of that-she insisted on driving him home. I agreed. Fred could not risk another almost getting arrested night, now could he?

No, he could not, and thank you so much Muse, for your unwanted two cents, was how Fred was looking at me. Oh, Fred, you are so welcome, I stared back.

Then only Ricky, myself and Quiet Man were left. We poured our drinks of choice and Quiet Man lights my cigar for me.

I then I see an older gentleman come in right when Fred was leaving. This was a 70 year old man who I later found out met Quiet Man in the strip club and when the man was going to tip the stripper $20, Quiet Man yells out to him, you are so cheap Grandpa. That was the beginning of their friendship.

The older man was quite wealthy and Ricky filled me in, “Muse, do you know that Dane lives in a Tudor Mansion?”

“Well, I know they are nice, but I have been in a real Tudor in England,” I replied. I really did not care if Dane had money or not. I truly despise men who believe their attraction is measured by the size of their wallet.

Well since he showed up, Dane joined us in drink.

Quiet Man sat next to me and began to tell stories that made us laugh. As we were drinking, I would squeal with laughter and interrupt Quiet Man when something popped into my head about whatever he said. He and I would roar with laughter. I don’t know if Ricky or Dane did, because I really did not notice them to much, due to the liquor.

At one point, Dane decides to say to me the following:

“Muse, do you think you can let him finish the story?”

And, Ricky, pipes in with:

“Muse, you are really hammering Quiet Man, why don’t you let him be?”

I was affronted by these two remarks. I know they made them because Quiet Man and I interact as if there is not anyone else around us, but not on purpose.

I retaliated to those comments the only way I knew how.

“Quiet Man,” I said, as I took a long drag off the cigarra, “Am I doing anything to annoy you?”

“No, Muse, you are not.”

“Are you annoyed when I comment on what you say?”

“No, Muse.”

“Do you think I am hammering you?”

“No.”

“Am I bothering you?”

“Muse,” he said, ”Am I saying anything to you at all?”

“No.”

“Well then, why do you care what they say?”

So there, Ricky and Dane was what my smirk to them said. So there.

We eventually moved into Quiet Man’s office so we could turn up the heat. We smoked our way through the cigars. Dane decides he wants to go on ebay to look at Bentley’s. He was like a girl, I thought, trying to engage Quiet Man in having an interest in what he wanted.

Dane, you idiot, you come and interrupt us drinking and smoking and though you never met me before, you are not going to dictate what we are going to do with our time, was what I thought.

Quiet Man was sitting next to me and holding my hand or my fingers. I was holding his hand and as is my habit with men’s hand that I like, I was rubbing his hand as he placed it in mine.

I was thinking, OK, this is as far as it’s going to go. I was going to cut down on the wine, so I would have more control of my senses, my interest in Quiet Man being so piqued, I did not want to do anything I would later regret. Or enjoy, then regret.

Eventually Dane went home. He probably thought I was his party pooper. But Dane, did let me know about Quiet Man having girlfriends. I told Quiet Man, oh so you lied to me. I told Dane what Quiet Man previously told me. Before Dane told me that Belina was a girl friend of Quiet Man, which was quite a shock because I knew in the back of my mind that there was something odd about Belina, but she was also a “dancer”-OMG I could not believe it. Dane only told me this because he asked Quiet Man if he should tell and Quiet Man said his usual, “of course.”

Quiet Man told me previously that Belina slept with Fred. I was shocked with the scandalous information about Belina who I met the same night I met Quiet Man. How odd the pieces of this puzzle are.

I do not know quite what Dane means about girlfriends, because at his age, you never know. He is also married and told me, going to see girls at strip clubs is a man thing, it is what men do.

“You can’t change that Muse,” Dane told me.

Well I am not out to change men, Dane was what I thought.

Dane told myself, Quiet Man and Ricky that he was going to cook a meal at his house for myself and Quiet Man. He said he was a fabulous cook of Armenian food. Dane is Armenian. Poor Ricky, he was not going to get any Armenian food. Men are strange.

Eventually Dane went home. Then it was just Ricky and ourselves. Quiet Man sends Ricky out for more smokes for himself. After he returned, Ricky, announces we all should go home. Quiet Man, takes a drag of his cigarette, looks at me, then up at Ricky. He says nothing. I finally say to Ricky loudly, if he wants to go home, then go! He did.

After Ricky left, Quiet Man who was still sitting next to me, since he had to switch seats with Dane who wanted to look at ebay, puts down his cigarette. He is smiling at me and I at him. I was getting a little weirded out, since I knew what he was thinking, what men think, when they look you in the eye in that way. He was still holding my hand. That broad, strong hand over my small one. I was facing him and he I.

I was sitting with my legs crossed and was swinging one foot with the olive stiletto. My skirt was over my right knee, but was revealing part of my left thigh, that was facing Quiet Man’s desk.

“Muse,” he said softly, while moving his hands to my right calf, “Why you have no stockings?”

He had my upper part of my leg in his cupped hands. He lifted my leg slightly, holding it and still looking in my eyes.

OMG, I began to flush and my heart was beginning to race. I looked right back at him, pushing out my activated imagination of pulling my leg out from his grasp to push him into a position where I could jump into his lap.

My response was to laugh. I tried to remain calm and unfettered.

“I don’t have stocking on Quiet Man,” I told him, “I am not cold, and besides I put color on my legs which you are going to rub off!”

He was looking at my calf and ran his hands down the backside of it to my ankle. Inactive as I found myself, my mind was racing. It was like slow motion at the same time.

I took the opportunity to place my foot on the part of the chair between his legs to get his hands off of my calf.

“Aren’t you cold, Muse, without stockings?” he asked me while still holding my leg.

“No,” I pondered, “No, Quiet Man because it does not bother me to not have stocking one in this weather. I really don’t like stockings anyway,” I replied as demurely as I could.

He gave me a small deep laugh as he held onto my leg that was being held up by the chair and tried to turn me so he my exposed thigh would face him.

“OH MY GOD,” I yelled out while laughing, “WHAT are you looking at?!”

“Muse,” he said softly.

By this time I had wriggled out from his hands, grabbed my skirt and pulled it down over my locked knees.

He reached for his cigarette and leaned back while watching me.

Since I was taken off guard and as is my normal reaction to such things, I began to chatter and chatter and act like nothing just occurred.

We spoke that night until 6:30 am. We continued to drink and talk as if nothing happened. He told me some of his deepest thoughts of how he has viewed his life. He told me of his country and how he wants to return to it after his children finish college. He told me that his family would not want to go back to live in their country, including his wife. He pondered that he wanted me to see where he came from. I did not respond to much of this; I just listened.

When we were leaving his office, it was still dark outside despite being 6:30 am. He was locking up and I had started out into the parking lot. The soft yellow illumination from the outside lights, cast a romantic glow on the falling snow.

I was ahead of him and he hurried to catch up to me. I had stopped walking and turned to watch him approach. He was hurrying due to the falling snow, which gave us each our own adoring veil of white on our hair.

Quiet Man put his arm around me as we briefly spoke before we were going to say our usual good byes after these marathon talks.

He held me tightly around my waist next to him. He was looking afar in front of us, chatting. I then put my arm around him, laughing. It was cold out and he was warm.

Of course, I was chatting away, running on about nonsense. When I briefly stopped, waiting for a response from him, he was looking down at me. He pulled me towards him and kissed me.

Well, what he did not expect was that in the split second he leaned in to me, I turned my head to speak, since I did not want to be looking into his eyes while in his embrace. So, his kiss landed somewhere between my check and the outer edges of my sealed lips.

So, he leaned in and kissed me again but squarely on my right cheek while my face was buried in his shoulder. His warmth felt good, his embrace made me feel safe.

I leaned back to look at him and he was looking at me. I don’t know what we said to each other, but I leaned in to kiss his cheek, but due to his height, it was his neck.

Then I decided it was time to go home. I pulled out from his arms, and said good night to him. I thanked him for his hospitality with me.

“Good night, Muse,” he said, and turned to walk to his vehicle. I entered mine and we both drove out to go home.