What are the odds?

What are the Odds?
By Connie Alexander

I first noticed her at the bookstore. I had been glancing thru some magazines when I looked up and saw her come over to the news rack next me.

There was something about her that immediately caught my attention. It wasn't that she was any great beauty; it was just some indefinable thing that drew my eyes to her.

She quickly found what she was looking for and turned and walked towards the cashiers. I watched her go and pay, then walk out the door. I was mesmerized by her.

As she left my sight it was like the breaking of a spell. I shook my head and putting down the magazine I had been holding, I quickly left, hoping to catch where she went.

By time I got outside, she was gone and I was left feeling among other things, rather perplexed. I had never had this reaction to anyone before.

Over the next few weeks I would occasionally run into her. Soon it seemed that she noticed too and would give me a quick smile before disappearing again.

It was a rainy Thursday morning and I was enjoying finally having the school year over with. I had three months off before I had to go back to teaching and planned on thoroughly enjoying my time off. The first thing I had to do was to get some new flowers for my apartment.

I loved the scent of fresh cut flowers and made it a point to always have some at home. I know, not really macho but then, neither am I.

A new florist had opened on the other side of the park and I wanted to see what they had, so I put on my raincoat and grabbed my umbrella and headed out into the rain.

I've always liked walking in the rain, it made it seem that I had the town to myself as only the foolish or the desperate seemed to go out in it. I'm the former I suppose.

I sauntered across the park, enjoying the freshness that the summer rain gave to the air and was soon at my destination. Shaking the rain from my umbrella and coat, I entered the shop and breathed deep the wonderful scent of all of the flowers there.

This small shop was literally packed with flowers and I took my time looking around and trying to decide what blooms I would get today.

I was testing the beguiling scent of some roses when a voice from behind said, "You're either the CIA and have finally found this secret lair of the local KGB or you're stalking me."

Turning, I'm greeted by the smiling face of my mystery woman. "Nyet comrade, I'm here for the spy convention and thought I'd stop by to drop off some secret microfilm I stole from some imperialist, capitalist oppressor of the working class."

At that we both laughed. Her laugh was soft and musical and continued in the shine of her eyes.

"Honestly, I'm not stalking you, but it does seem that we have tended to pop up at the same places an awful lot lately"

"I was teasing and since we've already seen each other often enough, let me introduce myself. I'm Nancy, Nancy Brown."

"I'm very please to meet you Nancy. My name is Gerry, Gerry Scott." And we shook hands.

"Now Gerry, what brings you to my little shop on a rainy day like this?"

"This place is yours? It's quite nice. Can you recommend some blooms that have a nice scent?

"For your wife or girlfriend perhaps?" she said with a smile.

"No, no wife or girlfriend. I just like having flowers around my place. I love how they smell and they always make the place seem so much brighter."

"I couldn't agree more. Now these lilies are quite nice and of course the roses you just smelled are very nice too."

We continued to walk around her shop discussing the virtues and differences of the various plants she had.

I ended up with quite the collection. Really far more than I usually get but looking forward to how they would brighten up my place.

"Um Nancy, you wouldn't happen to want to grab a coffee with me sometime would you?"

"Why Gerry, that would be lovely. How about this afternoon? I'll be off around two, would that be fine?"

"Splendid, I'll meet you here then?"

"Yes, I'll see you then."

I walked out of her shop with my arms full of flowers and noticed that it had stopped raining and the sun was peaking out. It certainly matched my mood as I briskly walked home.

Good lord I had a date. Me and after all of these years too. Who would have thought it? Smiling and whistling a little tune I made my way home.

Feeling nervous and a bit giddy, I met Nancy at two and we went out for our coffee. It turned out that we had far more than the love of flowers in common. We both loved reading mysteries and watching old black and white movies. She seemed to share my love for jazz and classical music too.

Before we knew it, it was getting quite late but neither one of us wanted this first 'date' to end.

We decided to go to a nearby café and continued our discussion until the owners were ready to close us in or throw us out.

I didn't want this to end and after escorting Nancy back to her apartment above the flower shop, I asked her if I might call on her again. She quickly agreed and we set our date for the next night.

It wasn't too long before we were seeing each other daily. I would help her at the shop moving stock around and making arrangements and she would guide my rather amateur attempts. As the days and weeks passed, I came to realize that I had fallen in love with this wonderful woman.

I yearned to tell her of my love as I sensed that she felt the same about me, but before I could profess my feelings to her I knew that I must first tell her fully about myself. I dreaded this as I feared that my story could easily drive her away and I didn't know what I'd do without her in my life now.

With a great sense of trepidation, I called Nancy and asked if we might get together that night as I had something very important to discuss with her. She readily agreed and I was to be at her place for dinner at six.

Four hours until I saw her. Four hours until she kicked me out or . . . or what? How would she react? Would she hate me, never want to see me again? I couldn't bear it if that was the case.

Oh you idiot, I berated myself, why did you go a fall in love? Why after all these years?

I of course didn't have an answer to that and continued my agonizing wait.

Promptly at six I knocked at her door. Nancy opened the door with a smile and a warm greeting, then saw my face and quickly asked what was wrong.

"Now you see why I never play poker. I never could hide my emotions."

"Gerry, what is it?"

We sat in her living room and I said, "Nancy, there's something I must tell you, something I've wanted to tell you for sometime but haven't gotten the courage to do so."

"Oh no. Gerry please don't. You can't . . " And I could tell that she was trying hard not to break down herself.

"No Nancy, I must, this must be said."

"Gerry" she interrupted, "don't. Before you do, I have to say something."

We both kept interrupting the other. Each getting more upset and tearful as we went along.

"Wait." She said, "This is so crazy. We both need to say something and both of us feel that what we have to say needs to be said before the other speaks. Obviously we can't both talk at the same time, so how about this, why don't we both write down what we want to say then we both can read at the same time?"

Feeling relieved at this compromise, I agreed.

We both spent several tearful minutes trying to put down to paper what we wanted to tell the other and in the end I only wrote five words. When we were finally done, we both nervously handed our sheets to the other.

Knowing that my future was bound in the five words I wrote, I anxiously watched Nancy read. Forgotten was the paper she had handed me.

I watched her lips formed those words. I watched her brow furrow in confusion. Then I watched as she began to . . . laugh. What?

It started as a quick snort, then sporadic giggles, then morphed into full blown laughter.

"Nancy? What?"

She looked at me and not being able to stop laughing, she started to tap at the paper still held in my hand.

Hurt and very confused I looked at it. I'm not normally a slow person but it took sometime for what I was reading to register. When it did I began to giggle, then laugh myself. Soon both of us were holding each other, our sides hurting from the laughter that we couldn't seem to stop.

An untold time later our laughter turned to kisses. Our papers fallen to the floor, forgotten. Mine saying, I was born a female and hers saying, I was born a male.