Falling for Your Madness (3 page)

“Will I regret this relationship?”

“You will never be treated better. I can assure you.”

That was encouraging. I liked the gentlemen part especially. The world needed more of those.

David met me outside the cafe. He held out a Gerbera daisy. “Laura! I am so happy to see you. You look lovely. Your hair is different. It’s very elegant up like that.” Then he took my hand and kissed it, opened the door for me, and we went in.

Maybe this wasn’t a job interview after all.

He pulled the chair out for me. We ordered our lunch, and then he began to speak, or at least he tried to. He was fidgeting. He saw me watching him, and he was embarrassed. He didn’t seem like the type to get nervous. I really wanted to pat his hand and say, “Everything is going to be all right. You can do this.” But I didn’t know what he was doing, and we weren’t there yet. It wouldn’t be right.

He swallowed. “I spoke to you Monday about a project. I call it a project, but it is really more of a quest. I am in need of a bride.”

“What?”

“My quest is to someday attain a bride, and then, subsequently, heirs. Oh dear, you look startled. Let me slow down. This is always difficult to explain.”
He took a sip of water. “You are not going to be that bride. Not until you say you are. I would like to propose that we become friends. That we meet regularly and develop our friendship over tea, lunch, and dinner. I fancy you. After our delightful conversation on Sunday, and then after seeing your book on Monday, I have many more questions to ask you, and I am hoping you’ll agree to answer them.”

“But you did say bride, or am I going crazy?”

He smiled. “You are not going crazy. I can’t have a bride until I have a fiancée. I can’t have a fiancée until I have a sweetheart. I can’t have a sweetheart until I have a friend. I am hoping you will be my friend.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. He was definitely eccentric. Probably crazy too.

He continued, “You are in complete control of this relationship. But I will have rules of how things will be between us. We will only meet three times a week. At tea on Monday, at lunch on Wednesday, and at dinner on Friday. All expenses are my responsibility. I only ask of you that you entertain me with stories of your life. We meet at the same time, and we finish when I say we will. You know exactly what is going to happen at all points in our friendship. When we finish our meal, I will walk you to your building. I will never go in. I will only touch you to offer you my arm or to kiss your hand in greeting, if you allow me to. At any moment that you tire of this relationship, you must look me in the eyes and say, 'This relationship is over. I release you'. At that point, we never meet again.”

I sat back in my chair. I had never heard anything like this before.

“There’s more.” He was uncomfortable. The cafe table was too small and his legs wouldn’t fit under it. He had to turn at an angle and cross them. “You’re enduring this very well, and I’m thrilled to see it. If you think that you would like to progress this friendship into a courtship, if you would like to be my sweetheart, you get to say so. I will never bring it up. I want you to understand that you are always in control. If you are my sweetheart, then we spend more time together on Saturdays and Sundays, and I will request the delight of kissing you on a very specific spot on the lower hemisphere of your lovely face.” He laughed.

I felt like I was about to scream. I didn’t know if it was in fear or in delight or what. But I was totally enchanted.

“Do you want to hear more? It gets better.” He smiled.

“I think so.”

“If you decide that you want to marry me, then you tell me. You will be in control. Always. I fancy you enough that I am willing to wait for you. I think you would make a remarkable friend, an enchanting sweetheart and a beautiful bride, but I’m not the one who makes the decision here. You are.”

“But there’s a catch.” This was it. I was almost ready to grab my bag and bolt out of there. Almost.

“The catch is on me, because you do the breaking up. I will not do it. Ever. I promise. And I always keep my promises. If you release me, you must speak to me in person about it. No phone calls or emails or ghastly text messages. Once it is over, it is over. No changing your mind or saying you didn’t mean it. Because I will have no more contact with you. None whatsoever.”

“That’s intense.” This should have been scary, but it wasn’t. This man had been hurt. Perhaps he’s devising this crazy system out of protection. I didn’t know what I was going to do with him at all, but the idea of control certainly appealed to me.

“I’m afraid it has to be intense. Am I frightening you?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Do you have any questions? I want you to have complete understanding on all points of the rules.”

“What if I say yes, let’s be—what did you call it, sweethearts?” I had to laugh at this. “And I decide I’d rather be friends again.”

“Excellent question. You always tell a lot about someone by their questions. Our relationship’s progress is a one-way street. We cannot go back to friends; that option only works in pop songs. Your only option, if you are unhappy, is your final release of me. But once you shut that door, you cannot open it again. It would be humiliating and unfair for me to see you and have you say something like,
‘Oh David! I’ve missed you!’
He batted his eyes.
‘Oh David, can’t we meet for tea just once for old times’ sake?’
or
‘Oh David, I need a plus one for my friend’s wedding.’
No! Absolutely not. There will be no toying with me. I will not be humiliated.”

I believed it. He meant business.

“My purpose is marriage. It is serious and final. While we are friends, you may have your beaux, but I insist you don’t tell me about it, nor do I want you to string us both along for your amusement. You don’t strike me as the type of girl to do that.”

“No.” I had had my fill of that in junior high school. I had stopped when I realized how much it hurt people.

“I can tell you are a lady. I only associate with ladies.”

A lady!

“I want to remind you that I will do everything that I say I am going to do. I also promise you to not touch you, except in greeting. Never to put physical demands on you. Never try to get you drunk so I can have my way with you. Never presume upon you. There will never be, while you are with me, making out, shacking up, or calls late at night asking you if you want a visitor. You will be absolutely safe in my presence at all times.”

“Wow.”

“But, there is this. I cannot be alone with you. Never. Not in a car. Not in your apartment. Not in any circumstances. We meet in public, and I walk you home. And once we are engaged, well, I’ll grow fangs and ask if I can suck your blood.”

“What?” Was he completely mad?

“I’m joking about that part. You were looking a bit pale. I wanted to lighten the mood. I did a bad job of it. Please forgive me.”

I laughed. “I do.”

He leaned back. “I realize that I come across as being intense. Let’s take a moment.”

Our food came. I let it sit there. “Why are you doing it this way?”

“As I said before, this is how it must be done. I am a peculiar, eccentric man. You and I will argue over my rules more than once, I am sure, but they cannot be bent. I will exasperate you, baffle you, and perhaps drive you batty, but this how I want it done.”

“Who are you? I know you’re David, but who
are you
?”
I don’t know why I was so bold. Perhaps it was because of his audacious plan. Perhaps it was because I saw something in him, something beyond eccentric. I needed to see more.

He was happy with my question, I could tell. “I am Professor David Julius Arthur Bowles, employed by Boston College in the department of English, where I teach English literature. I was born March 1, 1982, precisely at noon. I grew up on the North Shore with my father, aunt, and sister. I have an undergraduate degree from Harvard, a graduate degree from Yale, and last year, I was awarded my doctorate from B.C. Go Eagles!”

I laughed.

“I am 30 years old and live in one of those romantic old brownstones on Commonwealth Avenue with Merle. When we are sweethearts, you may know my precise address. I am six feet three and three quarter inches tall. I weigh one hundred and ninety-eight pounds. I have all my teeth. I am in excellent health. I have no need for corrective lenses, although I am reading constantly. I credit this to either impeccable genes or magic. I have an excellent credit rating. I have been neither arrested nor married. The only phone I have is in Merle’s keeping, and it is for professional purposes only. Did I mention that you can never call me? All of my day time is committed either to teaching class, grading, reading, or research. All of my evening time is committed to taking classes in Bartitsu or fencing, which I have done since I was fifteen years old. And in the summer, I ride. Oh, and I am left handed.”

“You’re from the North Shore, so you’re not British?”

He smiled a wide smile. “By bloodline I am. By citizenship I am not. All of my favorite things are British.”

He was absolutely insane, but I couldn’t help listening to him. “So the accent is fake?”

“Hah! My father, who is crazier than I am, if you can believe that, insisted that though I was schooled in the States, I speak the Queen’s English, complete with the accent. It’s a sloppy, Americanized one, but it’s an accent nonetheless. He always said that if I did, I would undoubtedly be a hit with the ladies.”

I was giggling. “Are you?”

“It would be ungentlemanly to say so.” He winked at me, which convinced me that he was! There was a twinkle in his eye. It looked otherworldly. Not in a scary way. More like he was beckoning me to an adventure. Then it was gone. Maybe I was just seeing things.

“Now Laura Adamsky. I know a little from Julie and Brandon, but I want to know, who are you? Who
are
you?”

He made me feel confident. I wanted to say my answer exactly the way he said his. I had never been with a man who made me step up my game, like I was meant to follow him.

“I am Laura Elizabeth Victoria Adamsky, I . . .”

He held up his hand. “Excuse the interruption. But, Elizabeth Victoria? Did you know you share your name with two very important Queens of England?”

“I did.” And then I realized, “David Julius Arthur? You don’t do too badly in the name game either.”

He looked surprised. He laughed and looked little flustered, as if I had caught him off guard. It was obvious to me that I had said the right thing. I didn’t know why it was right, but he was glad I had said it. I was too. “Good observation.” David leaned in closer to me. “Please continue.”

“I was born April 14, 1987, to Paul and Kathleen Adamsky of Libertyville, Illinois. You already know that I am self employed. I am five feet six inches tall, but I will not reveal to you how much I weigh.”

“A lady need never divulge that information except to her physician.”

“Exactly.” I couldn’t help but laugh while I was talking to him. “I have a degree from Mass College of Art, and I’ve lived in Boston since coming here to attend school. I have two sisters, one younger and one older. I do not have all my teeth because I had my wisdom teeth pulled when I was sixteen. I wear contact lenses and …”

“Not tinted ones.”

“No. I’d rather keep my natural blue.”

“And a beautiful blue it is. Please continue.”

I blushed. “I also have never been arrested or married. My credit rating is …”

“None of my business. What else? Oh dear, I’ve been interrupting you quite a bit, but you are so fascinating. I’m afraid I’ve lost my good manners. Please, I will hold my hand over my mouth until you’re done.”

I laughed at him. I liked this David Julius Arthur Bowles, Ph.D. “That’s really all there is. I work a
lot.
I don’t have much free time, but when I do, I watch movies with my friends or read or go to museums to
fill up
, as my father says. And I never miss a Patriots game. Oh, and I’m also left handed.”

“Excellent. Bravo. Well done.” He applauded me. I felt myself blush again.

“I think our soup is cold.”

“That’s a very good sign.”

We ate, and I caught myself looking at him and trying to stifle my giggles.

“Laura, could I ask a small favor of you?”

“Maybe.”

“Does your phone have a camera?”