What I Remember Most by Cathy Lamb Page B

when you arrived.”
    Moose reminded me of a soft, safe Ferris wheel. The ride was pleasant, exciting at the top, but you didn’t need to do it again. I wasn’t interested.
    “I’ve seen him watching you.” Tildy pushed that white streak back. “He likes you. You gonna say yes if he asks you out?”
    “Nope, I won’t.”
    “Don’t like men?”
    There was no judgment in her voice. I appreciated that. “I like men. Sometimes. Now and then. If you’re asking if I like women, no. I don’t want a girlfriend. The thought of touching another woman’s boobs nauseates me, although I have no problem if another woman feels differently. The nauseated part, though, prevents me from being gay.”
    “Me too, darlin’,” Tildy said, hanging wineglasses upside down on a rack above our heads. “I like men in a physical sense, a roll in the hay settles out my stress and gives me a lift, but anything with a penis is suspect. Their brains lodge down there when they’re in their teens and don’t rise much higher their whole life.”
    “You take Moose, Tildy. Go ride that bronco.”
    “Too young for me.”
    “Give me a break. He’s forty if he’s a day.”
    She winked. “I’m a cougar now and then, I admit it. Growl!” She wriggled her claws. “But I’d send him home packin’ in the morning, like I do the rest of them. I need my space, and I don’t need a man invading it except to suit my purpose.”
    Moose struck me as the type of man who was shy with women but tried hard to overcome the shyness. I think I made him more shy. “Hello, Grenady,” he’d said the first night I met him. “I’m Moose Williams. Moose is not my birth name.”
    “I didn’t think it was. I cannot imagine a mother naming her son Moose.”
    “Nah. She didn’t. It was my older brothers. They called me Moose because they said I always butted them with my head. Hence, Moose. My name is Beau Williams. It’s actually Beau Williams the fourth, but that makes me sound both pompous and ridiculous.”
    I laughed. “What can I get you?”
    He had me get him one of the local beers, then asked me a couple more questions about myself: Where was I from, which I answered vaguely; was I moving here permanently, which I answered even more vaguely; then I switched the topic back over to him. Men are so easily fooled. You’re fuzzy in your answers about your personal life, then ask them a question about themselves and they’re happily back on their favorite topic: Themselves.
    Dumb.
    Moose smiled, and I went back to work making a mint julep, Gin Fizz, and a Manhattan.
    I knew he was watching me, but I ignored it.
    Moose was there for three hours. He ordered another beer, he ordered dinner, dessert. He left me a twenty-five-dollar tip. I liked that because I needed the money, but I also didn’t like it because I didn’t want him thinking he was buying any of my “special” time in future.
    The next night he came in again. Then again. He knew a lot of people, and they came over to say hi to him and he introduced me. I was constantly shaking hands with his buddies, cousins, aunts, sisters, other relatives, and chatting.
    One night he waited until it was less busy, then said, “Grenady, it would be an honor if you would go to dinner with me. Please.” He waved a hand. “I’m sorry, I should have said please first. I know of a nice restaurant, it’s in Bennett City, only twenty-five minutes away, private, and they have the best pasta. How about Sunday night?”
    “Moose, I’m flattered that a man like you would ask me out, but I am not dating right now.” Or ever again.
    “Oh.” His face fell. He blushed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    “My life is too complicated.” Let me count the ways.
    “Maybe I can help you uncomplicate it?”
    “Men never uncomplicate a woman’s life, Moose. Exactly the opposite.” I could count the ways there, too.
    “I’m uncomplicated.” He smiled.
    He was sweet. Like a milkshake or a plum. “No, thank