Page 13 of Finding Parker

“I, uhhm. I suppose that’s accurate. I know very little about her. She was, however, attractive,” I responded.

“Was she? What about her was attractive?” he asked as he turned around completely.

I thought about her walking up the stairs while I waited for my coffee.

“She was very thin, but muscular. Her skin was smooth and olive colored. She had beautiful hair and equally beautiful features. Possibly the most attractive female I have ever spent time talking to,” I grinned, pleased at the fact that Katelyn was as beautiful as she was.

“It’s all too easy for us to become attracted to someone’s appearance. We’re then forever blind to whom they actually are. Ask yourself this, Parker. If you had not actually had an opportunity to see her, and had spoken to her as she sat behind a mirrored glass, what would be your thought of her?” he lowered himself into the chair and sat in wait for my response.

I considered what he had asked. I tried to eliminate my thoughts of her beauty. Had I truly walked into an empty room and had a conversation with her, but not seen her, what would I think? My recollection of what she spoke of – her sisters, thoughts regarding love, and her take on sex was fairly clear. I began to recall what she said regarding sex.

I’m all for getting laid. But don’t tell me you love me so you can just fuck me. Be truthful; tell me you want to fuck me. Don’t cheapen the sex by calling it love. Call it what it is. It’s entertainment. It’s exciting. It’s a great way to kill an afternoon, evening, or night, but it’s not love. It’s like going to the beach, hiking, or learning how to ride a scooter. It’s an event. Love is forever. Fucking is entertainment.

I started to grin.

“Well, we wouldn’t be going on a date, that’s for sure,” I responded, still grinning.

I was becoming a student of Kenton Ward.

“How easily we become distracted by beauty. It’s quite sad. If only we could close our eyes and become attracted to what’s on the inside,” he said flatly.

Quietly, Kenton looked around as if he expected some form of response or answer from within the room. He didn’t appear to be frustrated with me, but the fact that he had stopped speaking made me wonder what he was thinking.

“Friday?” he asked blankly as he turned to face me again.

“Friday,” I responded, half ashamed of my having asked Katelyn on a date.

“Well, I have some errands to get done today; I should probably start pretty soon. If you’re in the neighborhood and she’s bored, stop by Friday. With Katelyn, that is. I’ll be here. Actually, I’m anxious to meet her,” he said as he stood from the chair.

“I’ll plan on it,” I responded as I placed my hands on my knees.

“In the event you do come here, we’re friends. No need to muddy the waters with explanations of employment. Agreed?” he paused, waiting for my approval.

“Agreed,” I responded as I stood.

I rose from the overstuffed chair I had been buried in for the length of our conversation. During my visit, Kenton had asked little of me, yet offered considerable wisdom in the form of advice. He wasn’t the person I expected him to be. I remained quite nervous in his presence, and reserved hope this would change in time. As the cleats of his golf shoes echoed down the hallway toward the front door, I followed anxiously.

“You should live every day,” Kenton paused as he reached for the door handle, “as if you’re going to die at midnight.”

Leisurely, he pulled the door open.

“Ask yourself throughout the course of each day, if this were my last day on this earth, would I do anything different?”

“I’ve been saying that since I was in college. Only in the last decade did I truly start applying it. Have a nice afternoon, Parker. I hope to see you Friday,” he said as he extended his right hand.

I shook his hand and nodded, thinking about what he said. If this were my last day on this earth, would I do anything different? At a loss for words, I stepped onto the porch, turned to face him, and thought.

“Yes,” I said.

And, as Kenton Ward’s mouth slowly formed itself into a grin of accomplishment, I quietly turned and walked to my car.

PARKER. Having a job that wasn’t necessarily a conventional one left me considerable time to think. Thinking, for me, hasn’t always been a healthy thing. I tend to think, rethink, and overthink issues if left with enough time. Being decisive is not one of my strengths. Through the course of the morning, I had changed my mind no less than four times regarding Katelyn and our date.

Although I couldn’t be certain, I began to wonder if some of my indecisiveness was a result of a desire to please Kenton. I desperately wanted acceptance from him, and couldn’t convince myself he was pleased with my decision to take Katelyn on a date. He had, however, asked that I bring her to his home on Friday. This, in itself, was enough to cause me to second guess my second guessing.

Sitting in the kitchen and staring out into the courtyard, I tried to relax and think of things other than Katelyn and Kenton. My mind became a scrambled mess of thoughts as I sipped my cup of coffee and gazed out the window at what must have been one of San Diego’s tallest palm trees. Half way into my mental efforts to guess the height of the tree, I decided to give up. Left wondering and somewhat frustrated, I stood and walked to the bathroom.

I suspect I pluck my eyebrows more than most people. I will never actually know if it actually provides me any form of real relaxation or a means of solving problems, but I like to think it provides something. During a few of my college exams, I plucked my eyebrows into nothingness. Generally, I perform the task while I am making decisions. Or thinking. Or thinking about making a decision.