Philly Story - New Beginnings Picnic

"I brought some music along.  Hope you don't mind," he said as he pulled out his tablet and a small pair of speakers.  She looked at him and smiled, "Only if I like the music you're playing."

The evening picnic at the lake was such a great idea. She had not been on a picnic for a while, so she was excited. Deandra kicked off her shoes and sat down on the blanket that had been laid out on the ground. She took a deep breath and felt some muscles relax in her neck and back that she really hadn't realized were tense.

Laughingly she looked at him with her little cocked sideways expression.  "And the point of this little evening seduction is..." she trailed off.

"Well, he smiled back. "I hadn't thought of there being a reason.  I just wanted to share some things that I enjoy it with you.  You are the one to bring up the word seduction!"

Her need for intellectual banter, for a strong mental partner was fighting everything inside of her right now. She wanted to have a logical debate about the word seduction; she wanted to have a discussion about relationships and what people meant, about all the things she thought every single day but never really could express;  but instead she just smiled at him and let her drawl come out, "We'll see. we will see."

Teasing her, he added, "I don't think that's what you were thinking. We will see?" he scoffed.  "What's really on your mind?" he asked.

She let it go did not wanting to engage; instead she laid back on her side with her head resting in her hand. "So what is in the basket , may I ask?"

Her evasion was not lost on him.  As an attorney, he was good at reading evasive techniques; and he also knew that attempting to pry information out of someone took longer than playing the evasion game, too.  He thought I'll let it pass for now. I'll get to the heart of it later.
Instead he took out two long stem wine glasses.  "Shall we start with a glass of white wine?" he asked.

What she wanted to reply was, "Is this how you take everybody out?" but instead her eyes twinkled and she smiled, "please."

He had to admit she was different - not the overly excited "Oh yes, I love white wine"; or the defensive "Wine? Seriously? Where do you think we're headed?"; or the reserved unquestioning and people pleasing.  He was pondering whether it was her southern attitude or part of her personality.  Curiously, he decided to play along for a while.

"Let me put the music on," he said and as he fumbled with the tablet and the speakers.  She took a long look out across the lake. It made her think of home it and of many happy childhood days spent at the lake with her family watching the birds and the boats.  It made her remember a lot of things that she had tightly secured, things that she hadn't realized she wanted to revisit again.

Deandra had already drifted to another time and place.  The first glass of wine and the relaxation she felt cleared her mind and allowed tender memories to slowly creep from the depths of her subconscious mind like the slow golden embers of dusk lurking behind the shadows and begging for attention..

"I hope you like baked chicken," he said as he removed a container and couple of nice plates from the basket.  He continued to set up the picnic as she fell more and more into a relaxed state.  "I always think that baked chicken seems to go really well on an evening like this," he continued.  She could hear his voice mix with the soft music on the little speakers.  Together with the slight Autumn breeze and rustling whisper of leaves, Deandra felt a sense of peace.

Her mind continued its lazy drift on a wave of long passed memories. She was young and her life was filled with her family - the rowdiness of her brothers, the love and support of her parents, and an ideal of what she thought life was and what life could be.

 They were at the lake having a camp out; her brothers were frolicking at the edge of the water with sticks poking in the mud, turning over dead fish, picking up cans and batting them into the water. Her mother, as always was doing some cooking or cleaning or tidying up at their camp side. Her dad was working on the boat, cleaning it out getting all of the gear situated.S he was lying on a blanket in the sun with her sketchpad, her big chunky sunglasses and a bottle of coconut oil, just relaxing, not involved with anyone in the picture. Iit was one of the moments where she felt like she was a stranger among these people, someone just watching them but not participating. It was the same feeling that she had most of her childhood; she couldn't remember fear or sadness but instead a disconnect, a loneliness.  She would often bury herself in her sketchpad or in a book or a magazine and think this is just the way it is.

"Deandra," he mother said gently touching her shoulder, "Do you wanna come help me set up camp?"  Slowly, Deandra glanced upward through her chunky sunglasses toward her mother and then at her father still unpacking the boat.  She shook her head, returned her attention to her sketch pad and tried to reclaim the wistful trance her mother had interrupted.  She was not mad at her mom, just annoyed.

Not to be deterred, her mother continued, "Then maybe you can help your dad unpack the boat and get things ready.  We will be headed out onto the water in a lil' bit."  Deandra just shook her head side to side, closing her eyes as she fought the anxiety welling up inside her.  I don't even want to be here, she thought. 

Her mother did not remove her hand from Deandra's shoulder, and some part of Deandra wanted desperately to curl into her mother's arms.

"Deandra. You ok?" Cory asked, carefully rubbing her shoulder.

Blinking, she realized she had indeed drifted someplace, sometime very far from here.

"Marley?  Seriously?" she asked slowly attempting to hide the slight panic igniting in her face.

"I can change it," he offered.

"Don't you dare!  I love Bob.  My parents played him all the time.  Talk about the quintessential hippies, my parents."

"Do they live here in Philly?"

Shaking her head, she took a breath attempting to keep the tears at bay.  "No!  They never lived in Pennsylvania.  My parents, uh, I, uh, we are from Texas," she stammered as she felt the tears burning her eyes.

Not wanting to push too hard, Cory acted as though he didn't notice. "Texas!" he said.  "I had no idea you were from Texas.  I figured you were from somewhere down South, but wow!  There must be an intriguing story to tell."

Turning away from his gaze to wipe her tear, Deandra drew in a long breath and nodded to the sun slowly disappearing behind the treeline.

"It amazes me how quickly time moves.  Remember when we were kids and it seemed to take forever for the holidays to get here.  Here it is October and it just felt like the first of Summer yesterday."

A cool breeze whispered through the trees then, seeming to echo her sentiments.  For one brief, magical moment, Deandra could almost hear the laughter of her family on that distant Texas lake shore.

"Another glass of wine?" she asked/

Cory poured her another glass.  "It's been quite a while since I've taken time for an evening picnic at the lake," he began.  "Life just seems to consume me."

"I know exactly what you mean," she agreed.  "There are day
s when I look up from my desk and realize it's past 6.  Without the girls at home, I have no excuse to stop working.  Umm, this is an excellent wine."

"Well, I cannot take credit for it.  I just told the clerk at the store that I needed a white wine sweet enough to compete with a beautiful woman," he teased.

"You know, so many trees in Texas stay green all year long.  You just never get this kind of view."