Meeting Kirby

His smooth, tan, arms and careful hands caught my eyes.

Mesmerized by his meticulous graceful attention to detail, we waited patiently for him to finish so we could get what we wanted.  We watched him cut, wrap, and label specialty cheeses in individual chunks.  We stood in Palo Alto’s brand new Whole Foods Market, in the cheese department that used to fill the far back corner.  

That store quickly became my favorite place to shop.  We could get salt-free peanut butter, fresh organic greens, dairy-free cheeses cut in just the right amount, and fresh-baked oatmeal cookies, baked onsite downstairs.  Their baked goods made the whole store smell like yummy buttery cinnamon toast.  Helium balloons and bright colored chalkboard signs educated shoppers of sales and new items.  Unlike other small crammed vitamin shops or dark and dingy health food stores, this large, spacious, lovely environment had bright lights; and beautiful, energized, young, happy people, eager to help us find anything we needed could be found working in any isle.

My three-year-old daughter Jevana, stood in the shopping cart, straining to see him packaging cheese beyond the display of exotic imported cheeses.  She intently watched, just as excited as I to see the dark curly-haired, smooth skin man with gentle deer-eyes, slowly draw the handle of the large wire cheese cutter down, onto a five-inch thick block of bright orange cheddar cheese, gauging the distance to perfectly cut each cut slab one inch thick.  Then he reached for cellophane from a huge industrial size box and pulled out a shiny thin sheet of clear plastic with both hands and gently set it down.  He slid the cutter across the plastic, then put a single chunk of cheese on the plastic, carefully wrapped up each cheese chunk in a neat package, and placed it on a flat silver scale to weigh it.  The scale automatically spit-out a printed sticky label identifying the weight, price, and kind of cheese.  Once he cleared his cutting table of cow milk cheese, I lifted the soy cheese brick out of the display in front of me, and handed him the huge block of cheese, with a request,

“Excuse me, will you please cut a piece of this for us?”

“Sure, how much would you like?”

“About this much,” I said, holding my forefinger and thumb about an inch and a half apart.

Jevana began stomping in place, and clapping her hands together making the metal cart rattled a bit, 

“Oh goody, goody-goody! Soy cheese, soy cheese, soy cheese!” she said.

Even with us waiting and Jevana exceptionally eager, he did not rush.   He used the same careful manual precision to cut, wrap, and label our cheese just right.

“Thank you!” I said, with a knowing smile, after he handed it back to me.

Did cupid suddenly strike my heart with an arrow – to trigger this sudden fascination with a man attentive to his work?  What’s gotten into me? 

Something about the care and focus he dedicated to the task at hand, led me to want.  ‘Sure would love to be on the receiving end of those hands – and that focussed mind.  What a kind heart and patient soul!  

I just wanted to feel him treating me as kindly, as his hands handled cheese.  

I noted his name tag pinned to his apron, and it etched in my mind, “Kirby”.   Huh, we had Kirby vacuum when I was a kid; it was well-made, with a thick fabric dust-catching bag – and it lasted forever!   

After we turned around and headed out of the cheese corner, to finish our grocery shopping,  I said, 

“Kirby”, out loud to myself.

“Huh?” My daughter inquired.

“Kirby.” I said, “That’s his name, honey.”

“Kirby was built for me!” she said enthusiastically.

“What?” I inquired back to her, wondering what she could possibly mean by that, and she simply repeated, 

“Mom, Kirby was built for me!” she said with such emphatic determination, I took pause.

I guess she can feel his calm, patient energy.  I thought with a sigh.  Are kids like canaries in a mine? Instead of dying from deadly gasses, they light up when the energy light is green?   Note the green light.

After a few weeks, and repeated visits to the cheese department to get slabs of soy cheese cut by Kirby, I thought, What’s the harm in letting him know I have noticed his bright spirit?  I decided to write a short note. I sent it to, “Kirby in the Cheese Department c/o Whole Foods Market”.

                                 

                                                     February 22, 1989

Dear Kirby,

I noticed your remarkably bright spirit 

and your gentle, attentive, careful hands.  

I have enjoyed watching you work 

and I look forward to seeing more of you.  

Thank you for inspiring me.

                    Sincerely,

Erin

My history of stirring romances with men too shy to step towards me led to my not feeling they like me as much as I enjoyed them.  I needed men to come towards me if they were so inclined instead of partnering with me because my boldness stirred their desire, so, I did not give him my last name, nor my address, nor a phone number.  His interest in meeting or knowing me would have to spur him to find me and step towards me!

We did not see Kirby for a couple of weeks after that.  I managed to come in on his days off, or while he stocked the shelves inside the walk-in, or his administrative duties kept him downstairs in his office – so we missed seeing him.  

Late one Wednesday afternoon, I came into WholeFoods alone, before I had picked up Jevana.  

I saw Kirby from behind; he stood with a clipboard in his hand in the jam and peanut butter aisle.  I recognized his black pants and shoes, and his navy polar fleece sweatshirt under his full-length apron snuggly tied low on his waist.  My heart flipped a bit and my blood heated and surged to my cheeks. Wearing a huge grin, I gripped the cart handle tight.  I caught a side view of him, as I slowly passed the isle, he wore large, studious-looking glasses in an outdated frame style, that of an engineer in the 1960s.  His attention remained on counting products and the shelf and recording numbers on his clipboard as I snuck past in stealth mode.

A bit later, while still shopping, my heart jumped again when I enter a long aisle at one end, and he entered the far end of the same aisle with an intentional pace to get somewhere fast.  I casually pushed my cart, trying not to notice him too much.  I dallied and he strode right past me holding my breath –desperate to contain all my excitement, I did not catch his gaze.  He did not seem to notice me at all, so at the end of the aisle I turned to look back at him, just in time to witness him doing an about-face.  He turned and walked straight at me, as he did, his hand rose to gently point and identify me.  

“You’re Erin!” He said as if he had just won a treasure hunt.

“Yes, yes, I am,” I said shyly, feeling busted.

“And you wrote the note I got in the mail?” 

“Yes, I sent – that note.”  as I recoiled my shoulder toward my ear while glancing sideways, exhaling a quiet not-yet-laugh – embarrassed for sending such a forward gesture. 

A tiny split moment of suspended time passed that awkwardly felt like forever, and led me to question whether anything else might happen out of us formally meeting each other.  Although it did occur to me that he might be married already, or he might be gay, or possibly just too busy or not interested in pursuing a friendship with me; it had not occurred to me that conversation with him might not flow.  

“Well, I was mighty surprised to get that letter and I am real glad ya wrote it!”  He said in a strong southern accent while stepping towards me with his hand eagerly stretched out to shake my hand.

“I’m Kirby – awf’ly glad to finally meet ya!” 

“Uh. Hi.” I said, putting my hand in his, unable to contain a huge smile, 

“Azz, you already know – now... I’m Erin.”  

I shook his hand and found it was warm, gentle, and purposeful.

“How – did you know it was me?” I shyly enquired.

“Ahh, I had a hunch,” he said triumphantly, “your daughter gave you away.”

“What? My daughter?” I said surprised to hear this.

“Well every time you came into the cheese department, she lit up.  I knew there must be something behind that!”

I marveled at her energy working our encounter both ways.

“Ah’ would’ve looked you up in the phone book, and called ya – but ya didn’t include your last name!”

“I know – I did not want to be that forward!”  I said.

“Well, can I have your number now?” he asked politely, as he reached into the front pocket of his apron, for a small notebook he had stashed there, flipping past the many dogeared pages of store notes before he handed it to me with his pen for me to write my contact information in it.  As I did, he said, 

“And what’s your daughter’s name?”

“Jevana”, I said as I wrote her name down too, before handing back the notebook – that now safely contained a way for him to reach me.

He took his pen back and wrote his name in perfect cursive on the next blank page, along with his address and phone number, and tore the sheet out and handed it to me, and said,

“Here’s mine.  Now doncha y’all lose that – ye hear?”

“Thanks!” I said, staring at the paper, amazed to read such elegant handwriting.

“Perhaps we can get together next Thursday?  He asked, putting the notebook back in his apron pouch.  “It’s my day off.”  

“I usually work all day during the week, however next Thursday I am going to Marin to pick up my new car!”  

“Where’s that?”

“It is about an hour and a half up north, past San Francisco, on the other side of the bay.”

“Oh,” Kirby said, “I haven’t had a chance to see much of this area yet, I been working real long hours since we opened a few months back.  I told them they better let me go have some fun while I am here.”

“Are you here only for a short time?”

“Oh no, I moved here.  For good.  I might go back for a visit, but this here is my home now.  Now all’s I need it someone sweet who will show me around!”  

“I plan on taking the train up to San Francisco, then a bus to Corte Madera. Wanna go with me?”

“Sure would love to!  If it’s alright.  Sounds like an adventure tah–me!.”

Before we both realized we needed to get back to things we had to do in a preset time frame, about forty-five minutes passed while we talked and shared a bit of who we were with each other. He relocated from Texas with a team of managers to open the first WholeFoods Market outside of Texas.  He loved being in California so he could hike, bike, swim, and ski in a bearable climate.  

And he discovered I had a root beer colored Specialized Crossroads gear bike and we were surprised to learn we both regularly rode the Portola Valley Loop yet had not seen each other on that ride.  

I learned no other woman had a hold on him, and he easily expressed a desire to see more of me.  He found out I was a divorced single mom who worked in high tech; he could find me at the Unity Church early on Sunday mornings.  

I felt delighted to know he loved being outdoors, an excitement about the future and sharing experiences with him surged just as the store intercom blasted into our engaging conversation,

“Kirby Graham, Kirby Graham, line three, please.  Line three. – Click.”

“I gotta run catch that call and get this done or I’ll never leave tonight!” he said with his attention back on his clipboard ready to bolt.

He reached out and touched my arm reassuringly, “I will call you about Thursday, sounds like a fun plan!”

And as he turned to dash off, I stood there stunned and completely satisfied.  Then I noticed and enjoyed the view of his slender athletic body, and marveled at how unbelievably, round and full his butt was.  It beautifully filled his black 501 Levi jeans.  His ass looks snug-ugh!  That is one ‘sticky out-ty - ‘nigga-butt’! Looks a lot like Mikhail Barishnokov’s shapely ballet dancer’s butt.  Ooohhh, I wonder if he dances?

Ohh–no...  I had only set my sites on a careful man.  Until that moment it had not occurred to me that I felt drawn to him sexually.  And that realization shhwooshed through my heart and landed as a knot of anxiety in my gut.  

Uh-Oh.  I am in for it now.  I got the hots for that man.  He looks so edible

, I just might devour him!

He did call me the next day, but I had not yet returned from work so he left a message.  He was checkin' in wanting to sure-up plans for the following week.  When I called Kirby back to make arrangements to meet and go to Marin, I was greeted and charmed by his voice on his answering machine message; 

“Well, Howdy there partner, I’m away from the bunkhouse right now, so you’re gonna have to yodel when you hear that bird chirp!  Givvit-chor best shot!”  

I heard and enjoyed that endearing message for nearly five years.  It never got old.  To this day, twenty-three years later, I can still hear his message in my head and recite it exactly how he said it.  

The first time I heard it, the brilliance of it surprised me and made me laugh so hard I had to hang up and call back to hear it again before I could leave a message for him.