Written on March 13, 2016
Jeff took me out on a two-hour date last week.
Our good friend Anita watched the kids for two hours and told us to enjoy our temporary freedom.
We were ecstatic.
Inside the car, we prayed and thanked Heavenly Father for the opportunity to spend time alone. Then, we headed out to downtown Kalispell.
Jeff was up for Italian; I wanted Thai.
He gave in.
The food in the Thai resto was nothing special. We ordered chicken curry and Thai fried rice, a generous serving of white rice with seafood (shrimps, mussels, scallops), pork, chicken and veggies.
We paid and left.
Downtown Kalispell has a walking vibe to it so I convinced Jeff to walk to Kalispell Brewing Co. which serves Montana-brewed beer. I was not planning on getting drunk and Jeff doesn’t drink anything except water, milk, and lemonade but I was curious to see the place. It gave me the impression as the local watering hole from my online “research” so I wanted to know which writers, musicians, poets hang out there.
Jeff and I were holding hands while walking from the Thai resto to the beer place and I felt very regular, typical, ordinary. There I was in the downtown area of the American city I have now lived for nine months and I’m walking along its historic street with the love of my life.
It felt good.
Too good actually that I had to tell Jeff I love him and I’m already looking forward to another “walking date”.
We entered Kalispell Brewing Co. welcomed by loud music from a band and a standing room only ambiance. My goal in inviting Jeff to check out the place was to order a drink and talk about senseless things. But the place was too noisy to involve talking without shouting so we left, crossed the street, and spontaneously decided to have ice cream at a local shop called Sweet Peaks.
Jeff had strawberry sorbet. I had a hot chocolate float called Huckleberry Surprise, which was hot chocolate with a scoop of huckleberry ice cream and whipped cream.
We sat there for a while and met a couple who were our classmates from the childbirth education classes we attended last year. They have three kids: a seven-year-old, a four-year-old, and a seven-month-old. They asked about the twins and the baby. I replied that the toddler stage is a crazy phase. The Mom laughed, agreed without any hesitation, and told us it gets better at three.
We said our goodbyes to the family and left the shop walking hand in hand again.
We still had 30 minutes before our temporary freedom expired so we did another chore that regular couples do: grocery shopping.
It has been more than six months since Jeff and I went to the supermarket together.
I felt so married, I told Jeff.
I know, he said.
We both laugh at our silliness and went to the vegetable section to get some broccoli. A young man, probably in his early 20s, greeted me with a friendly hello and asked how I was doing and then, asked for my number. Jeff was only an arm’s reach away. Ha!
I intentionally called Jeff “Babe” and asked him how many heads of broccoli he wanted. Young man gave his co-worker the “uh-oh” look.
Jeff laughed.
You can look but no touch, he whispered.
Jeff flashed the proud smile.
I was grinning.
I felt beautiful.
Nineteen.
Again.
Armed with bags of groceries, we walked out of another establishment to our car and dumped everything in the back seat.
Five minutes before 7:00.
Five minutes before temporary freedom ends.
On the way home, we talked about Donald Trump, Hillary Clinton, Philippine elections, the guy in the supermarket, how much Jeff likes me, how much I like Jeff, and then… what to do about Nicholas and his search and destroy mission.
Inside the Ruffolo property, we parked the car, thanked each other for the two-hour alone time, and put on our parent caps as we entered the house.
Anita was feeding JJ. Nick and Toni were watching a Mickey Mouse film.
Thank you so much Anita, I said.
No replied, she replied.
I looked at Jeff and he gave me THE I’m-in-charge look.
It’s showtime, baby!
