Ginger Alert (Almost a Christmas Carol) - Part 2 of 2

Someone came through the door and I felt the cold air of the morning blowing in against my back. I had a shiver going up my spine. I wondered if it was because of the wind or by the man walking down the hall to my direction, gently smiling and holding an envelope in his hand. 

I thanked him and opened the small envelope with the “URGENT” stamp printed in red on the outside. He smiled and went back to his working place. 

There was only a business card as a message. 

‘How nice’, I mumbled. 

I turned the card around and read the message carefully handwritten on the back. 

“Lunch at 12:30h? Phone me.”

I smiled to myself. 

I still had no real plans set for lunch and that would be convenient. As far as I was concerned, my last full day in Dublin, as I had to leave early the next morning, would be probably and suitably thrilling. 

I picked up the phone and dialled the number underlined on the card.

***

When I walked into the restaurant, the place was almost full. There were just a few tables still unattended. I looked around and saw one hand waving at me. He smiled and stood up. I smiled back and walked on to him.

He was a handsome man. I realized it when I was coming closer to the man dressed in white shirt and dark blue jeans. Although almost informal, he was very elegant, tall and well-built. His navy blue eyes were fixed on my face and I suddenly felt blushing when mine met his. 

He politely shook my hand. His handshake was firm and strong. I took it as a good sign. A firm handshake, followed by a smile and a quick and direct eye contact is always a good sign.

We decided to have soup and a hot sandwich, instead of a heavy meal, so we would have time for a light conversation and maybe a walk, before leaving each other. He would go back to his work and I’d go back to my life. I wanted the afternoon to be well-spent and could not think of anything else to do but being there with him. 

I realized he was not only attractive and kind, but also a good talker and a wonderful listener. The conversation was easy. He talked about what he liked and I tried to follow his string of thoughts, doing the same. I like to keep some secrecy about my life, although I had no problem with sharing the things I like, so to get him to know me better.

When we got up, ready to leave the restaurant, he urged to pay the bill, under my protest, but he was incisive. I accepted the courtesy and waited. His telephone rang. He picked it up and went out. I followed him, keeping a fair distance so he could talk freely. After a couple of minutes he hung up and smiled at me.

- Come!

- Where to?

He walked through the multitude of people that crowded the streets, along Grafton Street again. At that time of the day, people were busy going shopping or getting off the restaurants, on their ways to their works or normal lives. It was Friday afternoon, so most of the people were leaving work early and going back to the busy side of Dublin for many reasons.

The sun hit his short hair when we crossed the street and I had the impression his head was on fire. I felt I was burning inside. The thought made me blush lightly. He seemed to notice it as he smiled. That grin could make my heart melt down. I wondered why those thoughts were flowing freely in my mind. He would never guess what I was thinking about anyway.

We walked into the Merrion Square park gate, side by side. He then said he took the afternoon off, so we could stay together for a time. It was my last weekend in Dublin and he wanted me to enjoy it. I was already enjoying it, but did not say anything. All I did was smile, to show how pleased I was, although I was secretly happier than he would ever imagine.

We sat at the bench by the lake, watching the ducks swimming by. He laid his hand softly on my leg, while pointing at the birds. My heart accelerated. 

- See how they seem to enjoy themselves. The weather today is really wonderful.

- It is really wonderful…

I was not really referring to the weather and I’m sure he understood me quite well. A group of seniors walked in with musical instruments in hands and started to play a Christmas carol. We smiled and hummed the words along. When they finished the first song, they started “One” by U2. He took my hand and asked me if I wanted to dance. I laughed at him. 

- No way! Not here and never in front of all these people! 

He just laughed loudly. 

- Do you think they would ever mind? 

- Well, maybe they would not, but I will certainly mind…

- OK, then. We won’t dance. But I know a place not far from here where we can spend some time. It gets quite chilly here in the middle of the afternoon, anyway. Come with me.

We walked past the Wilde House and went through the street behind it. Going down Cumberland Street S, we stopped by the Ginger Man’s door and I thought to myself that was a joke. The Universe likes playing with me, for sure. He did not mention anything, but I saw his lips curving in a very discreet smile, as if trying not to show that reaction to me.

We got in for a quick drink. The atmosphere was typical, as in most of the Irish pubs. I heard Adele playing on the background loudspeakers. He looked at me and opened his lovely grin again while humming the words along. 

“Everybody here is watching you

 Cause you feel like home,

 You’re like a dream come true”…*

The waiter, another young ginger man, greeted him with a smile and a handshake, as if knowing each other from a long date, directing us to sit at one of the small tables, away from the windows. It was pretty warm and comfortable inside. My eyes were happy and my G.A. was all in full alertness state.

He was going to start ordering, but looking at me, he decided to ask me first what I’d like to drink. I prudently chose tap beer. Traditional. He smiled and followed ordering the same for himself, as it was his initial intention.

“You move like a movie, you sound like a song”…*

- I like this place. The atmosphere here is always so lively great.

- I know. Everyone looks so at ease; so friendly.

- The Irish way… after some beers, everything is amusing and cheerful… especially on a Friday afternoon…

He laughed out loud. Incredible how I could feel so good with only a glimpse of that grin… and I was literally staring at him and feeling so comfortable with him. 

Less than a couple of hours later we left the pub and walked down to a traditional brick building right next door. He took a bunch of keys from his pocket and opened the front door, giving me way to follow in. 

As he entered the hall, he held my hand. I was totally caught in surprise. My heart almost blew up. 

Then he kissed me…

*** 

He slowly ran his fingers over my skin as if trying to memorise every line and detail. His touch was so soft I thought he had feathers in his hands. I closed my eyes and let myself go through the gates of the pleasure garden. 

He kissed my lips so gently, I thought he was afraid of breaking anything in me. He was a good kisser and a wonderful lover. His attention was so completely directed to me that I felt I was special. 

What a good feeling… knowing he was not in a hurry… I always thought lovemaking should be slow and caring, attentive and intense…

When he found out that by kissing behind my ears he would make my skin react with goose bumps, he giggled and repeated that a few times. I turned around and he took advantage of that too, lying on top of my body, rubbing his soft ginger fur on me, while kissing me from my neck to the bottom of my spine and then he stopped.

I waited.

He kissed the two dimples at my lower back and said:

- I love these back dimples… and your bum. It´s all so perfect. 

He spoke that so naturally I really believed him. I felt as if I was living a dream.

- Do you know how these are called?

- Dimples of Venus?

He laughed loudly and kissed my bum, once, twice, three times….

***

My ginger Apollo, perfect for me, in all the possible senses: his auburn fur, so soft at the touch of my fingers; his navy-blue eyes all set on my face; his sweet smile, so open and so handsomely attractive, baring me like his hands did just some minutes before; his distinctive citric-cedar perfume bringing up his manly scent, inebriating my senses and triggering my libido and my primal instincts. 

I was so happy for being there and, at the same time, so sad I had to leave him in a few minutes. 

A ray of light came though the opening in between the curtains and hit his bare torso. I could almost hear Adele’s lines repeating in my head like an earworm.

”Let me photograph you in this light

 In case it is the last time

 That we might be exactly like we were,

 Before we realized

 We were sad of getting old

 It made us restless”…*

Sadly, that meant it was morning already. That sweet dream was over. I had to get ready and leave.

I don’t like dramas, so I got up and went to the bathroom to shower. I still had to pack my things.

***

- You’ll be in my mind for a long time… Did you know that? 

He just looked me in the eyes. His face flustered at my innocent display of insanity, but he said nothing. He just held me tight and kissed me. That was a definitive good bye. 

- Save one dance for me, will you? You owe me that…

I smiled sadly and buried my head on his chest. 

“You move like a movie, you sound like a song”…*

I could smell the scent of wild cedar and orange from his skin and clothes. He held me close for a longer while and then released me. It was time for me to go. 

The display, on the large panel in front of my eyes, showed the embarking call and I heard the loudspeakers repeating the number of the flight and the gate.

I walked up the aisles and looked back. He was still there standing tall in the middle of the hall, smiling at me. I went through the security procedures and disappeared from his sight. My heart ached. 

***

His manly scent still remains in my brain when I close my eyes. His presence is still so vivid to me, every time I touch the empty pillow close to mine and I recall his touch on my skin, the taste of his kisses and the sensation of going crazy in his hands and body. 

The sun hits my face and I remind his warm body on and in mine, the light coming into the bedroom though the curtains and drawing lines on his perfect torso. I feel like crying, but I need to be strong and I try a smile.

As a ginger head crosses my path, the G.A. (Ginger Alert) reacts and I look back and around again, as if haunted by the sight of a charming and cute ghost that keeps on coming into my mind, insistently trying to keep me from forgetting - if that could ever be possible – those sweet magic hours…

The wind blows against my face and I turn my collar up and walk home. Tears roll down my face and I pretend they are from the cold wind. Adele’s voice keeps on singing in my mind… 

“Let me photograph you in this light 

 In case it is the last time

 That we might be exactly like we were 

 Before we realized”…*

* (Adele: "When We Were Young)

Ginger Alert (Almost a Christmas Carol) - Part 1 of 2

I was walking down the street, almost crossing O’Connell Bridge over the cold River Liffey. My intention was going shopping at Grafton’s many options, as we were about one week before Christmas. The streets were packed with people from all places, shopping like crazy. I was amazed by the number of redheads of all sizes, forms and ages, walking up and down the busy walkways and it felt like paradise to me. 

A young man in his early twenties looked distressed when I passed by him and was crossing the N1 at Nassau Street, right after Trinity. He stopped me and asked if I knew where he could take the bus to Dorset College. I excused myself saying I did not know. He asked another passer-by and then another one, but none of them knew. The young man was in despair and very agitated. I commented that the city was too full of tourists and it was natural that most of us would not know it. He burst out with a high pitched voice. 

- I’m not a tourist! 

I laughed at his obvious and sudden distress, but tried to keep it up and calmly responded. 

- But we are! And lots of these people are too. 

He was almost giving up, but fortunately, there was a dark haired man coming to our direction and he had the right information. The younger man felt relieved and stayed by the Bus Stop while I continued my way, laughing inside. At least he was respectful and did not swear at anyone. 

Tall and strong, the young man had a natural auburn beard covering his pale, freckled face and his rosy cheeks. His hair was a lighter shade of ginger, cut very shortly, except on top of his head. The overall look was very pleasant for a young man like that. 

I walked away, still laughing inside about what had just happened and went back on my way to Grafton Street. 

*** 

Later that afternoon, when I was coming back, holding shopping bags in both hands, my mind was absolutely distracted and my feet were sore. In spite of being soon after 5 pm only, the sensation was it was already late in the evening. If it were not for the many Christmas lights all around, the place would be as dark as the feathers of a crow. 

I crossed the bridge on my way back to the hotel I was staying in, not far away from the Garden of Remembrance. Right where the Spire was erected, I decided to turn to Henry Street, when I saw the small street market and the hats and scarves they were selling at reasonable prices. I always liked a good bargain and I decided I needed a new and trendier hat. 

I found a nice hat, plaided of dark green, grey and light brown, very discreet and which could be used with almost any piece of garment. Most important of all, it’d keep my head warm. I was happy. For what’s worth, I felt my purchase was a good one. 

I’m not used to receiving gifts, so I buy my own when I need something. Hat on head, bags in my both hands, I walked back, all happy and light. The streets were still busy and the wind was blowing fiercely from the riverside when I walked back through Henry Street. I bent my head and stepped firmly on the large brick walkway. 

I thought to myself: what a nice place to fall in love with… 

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud crashing noise and a very strange sensation. I heard a metallic clatter and that was followed by a dizziness and the feeling I could not get hold of my grasp and my balance. The message sent to my brain that I was falling down to the ground. I felt a pain on my right leg and saw the packages I was holding all scattered around on the brownish pavement. 

I was caught in surprise. I looked around and found out there was a bicycle on the ground with its wheels still turning. Looking at me with his big green eyes, a man, dressed in competition gear, was looking as startled as I was. He seemed to be not just scared by what had just happened: he was unquestionably worried. 

- Are you well? 

He smiled. He was probably not expecting I was concerned about him, when I was the one who was just hit hard by his bicycle. 

- Are you? 

- I think so. 

I looked at myself, then around. Some people were trying to help picking up the bags and packages scattered all over the place. I thanked those kind walkers-by and tried to get up, but my right leg failed to keep me standing up. 

He was just too quick to hold my arm. 

- Try to stand now. Don’t hit it hard. Just go light and slow. 

I did what he said. The pain was bearable. I had a scratched knee and my jeans were ripped. Very fashionable, I thought. I told him I was OK. He would take me to emergency, but I refused and thanked for his concern. I just wanted to go back to my hotel, have a good hot shower and a little rest. He was not completely happy, but agreed and helped me out. 

He lifted his bike from the pavement. It was ok: just a few scratches on the painting. 

He was OK: just a few scratches on his left leg. 

I was OK, in spite of some scuffs on my leg, a painful scratched knee and a ripped pair of jeans. 

He insisted to follow me up to the hotel, helping me out with the bags, just to be sure I was really OK. How nice on him... 

As soon as we got close to the reception desk, the clerk asked me if I needed help, as he saw me walking a bit limp and being helped by that stranger. He was quick to ask if there was a nurse or doctor at hand to check if my leg needed any assistance. 

Half an hour later, after a quick meeting with the doctor in the emergency room, I was assured it was nothing more serious than a few scratches and I was free to go back to my room with my wound all cleaned and covered with a layer of ointment. 

To my surprise he was still sitting by the reception, holding his helmet in his hands. He seemed to be patiently waiting for something. I could guess his mind was elsewhere, however. I watched him from a certain distance for a little while, then walked towards him. For the first time I noticed the colour of his hair, which I did not guess before from his well shaved and pale face. 

He raised his head and looked at me. For a strange reason I had a ginger alert: I felt butterflies in my stomach and I blushed immediately. 

- Are you OK? 

- Yes. It was really just a few scratches. Nothing serious… I promise. 

- I’m really sorry. 

- Don’t be. It was an accident. I should have been more careful… 

- Me too. 

I smiled. He grinned. 

- I’m Ryan. Nice to meet you… 

‘How typical,’ thought I. He couldn’t have a more common name in Ireland… 

*** 

When I went down to the hall the morning after, so to walk off and have my breakfast at a street Café instead of the hotel, I heard someone calling me by the name. I just stopped by the revolving door and turned around, in complete surprise. 

I was not expecting for anything like that. 

***