Caroline, 29

Chapter 15

Caroline, 29

      Given what you know about me, I’m sure you’re thinking there’s a strong likelihood that I perform “Sweet Caroline” tonight, but I’m sorry to disappoint. There’s no karaoke where I’m going. This is a day date. Well, calling it a date may be a stretch. It’s coffee, nothing more, nothing less. For now. 

              It’s 12:56 on a Sunday and Caroline, 29 should be here any minute. I met Caroline on Match a few months ago, and we had a great conversation over our shared love of art, then moved into texting and we’ve even spoken on the phone a few times. She sounds nice, articulate, funny, but maybe a little spacy to say the least. We’ve tried making plans on about five different occasions, but she’s cancelled on me every time. Generally, I wouldn’t pursue her any further because being reliable and sticking with plans is important to me, but there’s something about Caroline that has me inexplicably and drawn to her, and for months I’ve been dying to meet her in person. 

Have you met someone that you find, for whatever reason, simply fascinating? That’s Caroline. She’s a fiery redhead, a self-described “modern day hippie” who is a high school art teacher and a painter. She shared some pictures of her work with me and it was phenomenal. I also have a love and appreciation for the arts, and in my younger days, was a fair painter. While I no way possess anywhere near the talent she does, I love the idea of being with someone who shares an artistic passion, and who continues to pursue their life dreams while grinding through a daily nine to five.

But what’s truly drawn me to Caroline (other than the fact that she is INSANELY HOT) was a conversation we had several weeks ago. I hadn’t heard from her in a while to that point, and despite wanting to reach out to her, I’d almost given up on the possibility of us ever meeting after she’d flaked out on me so many times. Then she texted me one day out of the blue.

Caroline: Hey! How have you been? 

Me (surprised to hear from her): Very well, thanks. How about you? 

Caroline: Doing great. I was just looking at your profile pictures again. 

Me (not knowing what else to say): Oh yeah? 

Caroline: Yep! I analyzed your face and I know everything about you now. 

I remember getting that message and thinking that this girl must be completely tapped in the head. I mean, who says something like that? I was curious though, and it took me about thirty minutes of typing and deleting a bunch of different messages before I could find an appropriate response �" one that may look familiar, and it disappoints me due to the lack of varying word choice, but frankly, I didn’t know what the hell to say. 

Me (not knowing what the hell to say): Oh yeah? 

Caroline: Yeah! Want to hear what I learned?

Me (on the edge of my seat, anxious and giddy): Yes, please! 

Caroline: There’s an intensity in your eyes, almost an anger, but it’s not directed at anyone. It’s like you see so many problems in the world, and you are angry because you can only do so much to fix them. You hold much of your stress and worries in your eyes �" but they are also full of life and curiosity. Your smile is natural and genuine though, and it tells me that even though you struggle with how the world is at times, you are very happy with who you are and the role you play in it. There’s generosity and kindness in your beautiful face.

Me (awed, mouth ajar, speechless for fifteen minutes before finally asking): Can we go out sometime soon? 

     It wasn’t the accuracy of Caroline’s description that sparked something in me, though it was a reasonably fair depiction �" but rather, the peculiar confidence with which she divulged that strange and bizarre “talent” and assessment that snared me. It doesn’t hurt that she’s a beautiful redhead either, or that she called my face beautiful, which felt good and is something I doubt anyone has ever said of me, not even my mother �" but after she said that, I felt a surge of happiness and positivity about my appearance, and I just had to meet her. She’ll be here any minute now… 

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    It’s 1:32 and I suspect the people who just sat down at the table behind me are on a first date, and I wish I’d chosen the seat across from me so I could see them. Caroline is half an hour late and my coffee is empty. I guess I’ll get another one… and change seats so I can witness whatever is happening over there. 

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It’s 1:46. I have a fresh cup of coffee, and I’m enthralled by the scene taking place at the table in front of me. It’s clearly a first date. She’s beautiful, and from what it sounds, is a successful software engineer looking for love in all the wrong places, he looks like the member of a s****y 90’s grunge band… he’s just a month out of a four-year relationship, has been unemployed for six months, has served time in prison, and reeks of cigarettes.  

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It’s 2:16, I’m pretty sure Caroline isn’t coming, and people sitting next to me just left together holding hands, after they made dinner plans for later tonight, and I witnessed their first kiss. What the hell am I doing wrong? 

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It’s 5:44 and I’ve been back home for a few hours. Caroline never showed up, and hasn’t answered the text I sent her. I’ve been trying to get some writing done, but my head is elsewhere. I still can’t get my mind off those people earlier… 

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It’s 7:12 and I just received this text from Caroline: 

Caroline: Hey, sorry I skipped out on you today. I was looking at your face again and realized I was wrong about you. 

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    It’s well after nine, and I’m still trying to figure out how to respond to Caroline’s text and how the hell that guy could have had such a successful first date. I’m dying to know what Caroline means… but I’m more concerned about how that jailbird found someone…

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It’s 1:46 in the morning and I haven’t slept a wink. I don’t know if it’s the coffee, Caroline’s statement about my face, or those god damn people today �" but my mind is spiraling. I’ve even studied my own face, analyzed in as much depth as possible, and have looked at pictures of dozens of people I know and have attempted to isolate their qualities based on face alone. 

I have to know what she meant, but I still don’t know what the hell to say to her. I hate to do it, but…

Me: Oh yeah?

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 It’s five in the morning, I slept about sixteen minutes last night, and Caroline never answered. I’ve thought a lot about those people from the café yesterday, and I’ve found peace in all of it. If he found someone, then why can’t I? 

I’ve also come to terms about Caroline. She’s flighty, a flake, someone who doesn’t follow through, and she isn’t the one. Even though I’ll never get to serenade her with the words of Neil Diamond, and I’ll never know what she meant, and will likely always wonder, at some point in the night I blocked all contact with her. 

Author's Note

Images bring this to life.