Chapter Four – Support
Leticia and Catherine stood outside Desmond's house that afternoon. Leticia nervously ringed her hands.
"I don' know if I can do it, luv," she said nervously, "It'll break 'is 'eart."
"If Daphne cannot settle her own affairs, we shall do it for her," Catherine said determinedly.
Brushing past Leticia, Catherine knocked on the door. "Coming," they heard from inside. The door soon opened, and Desmond stood, and became transfixed as he stared at Leticia. Her blond hair was pulled to one side, as always, and her violet eyes looked at him with immense concern and pity. Her lithe figure was draped in a silk-chiffon leopard print shirt, and wool mini pants. Her tiny feet were protected by suede booties. She was obviously eccentrically dressed, without any mainstream fashion sense, but she was the most interesting creature Desmond had ever seen. As he stood gaping at her, he decided that he had to speak, but the words could not come out. "H-hello," he faltered.
"Desmond, I'm Catherine, Daphne's sister," Catherine said, taking control, "We have something to speak to you about."
Desmond looked at Catherine, then back at Leticia. He smiled nervously, and opened the door wider, saying, "Come in, please." The two women filed past him into the living room and seated themselves on the sofa. Desmond soon followed, and said, "I really don't know what else there is to discuss."
"What do you mean?" Catherine said, confused.
"Just that Daphne came over here earlier today and told me everything," he said frankly.
Leticia and Catherine looked at each other. "Everything?" Leticia asked.
"Yes," Desmond affirmed.
"Oh!" Leticia cried, relieved, "Oh, luv, I'm so grateful! I really didn' want to 'ave to tell ya!" Leticia then turned to Catherine and said, "See, luv? Daphne can take care of 'erself."
"Yes," Catherine said, looking at the floor. She stood and said, "I'm sorry, Desmond, for re-opening something that I'm sure you would have liked to forget. Please accept my sincere apology."
"Done," Desmond smiled as Catherine headed out the door. Leticia started to follow, but Desmond gently grabbed her arm. "And you, my dear."
"Wha' abou' me?" Leticia asked, looking up at Desmond.
"How about dinner some night?" he asked smilingly.
"Dinner?" she smiled. "When?"
"Whenever you're free," he replied, "How about tonight?"
"Oh," Leticia said, looking down, "Tonigh' I work. Wha' abou' tomorrow nigh'?"
"Okay," Desmond smiled, letting her go. As Leticia walked out of the house, he wondered how he could have been so upset about Daphne. He now knew what true love was supposed to feel like.
Later that day, Quentin was standing in front of his bedroom mirror, tying his ivory-colored tie. He was going to see Daphne again, and he hummed a tune as he combed his hair. Samantha was out with her sister, so she wouldn't be back for a while. He tucked in his shirt, and looked at himself in the mirror. "Not bad," he said to himself, then wondered what Daphne would be wearing. A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. "Come in," he said as he picked up the comb again.
Desmond entered his room, and smiled to himself as he saw his cousin in full date fare. "Looking good," he commented.
Quentin laughed and said, "What brings you here, man?"
Desmond clapped his cousin on the shoulder and said, "Just here to say I don't hold it against you."
"Don't hold what against me?" Quentin asked, already knowing the answer.
"You don't have to play dumb with me, man," Desmond said sincerely, "Daphne came by this morning and told me everything. You have my blessing."
Quentin stopped combing his hair and turned around, facing his cousin. "I thought you liked her," he said disbelievingly.
"Well, I did," Desmond hedged. Finally, he laughed and said, "I'll tell you the truth: today, I met an angel."
Quentin resumed getting ready. "Do I know her?"
"You're not going to steal this one, too, are you?" Desmond said half-jokingly.
Quentin suddenly turned serious and looked at Desmond. "I am really sorry, man. I didn't mean to steal Daphne; it just happened."
"I believe you," Desmond smiled, "You're not just my cousin; you're my best friend. I know you wouldn't intentionally hurt me." Quentin smiled back and put down the comb. "Her name's Leticia," he added.
Quentin raised his eyebrows. "Daphne's friend?"
"You know her?" Desmond counter-asked.
"Met her yesterday," he said, "She seemed nice." Quentin leaned down to Desmond's height and asked, "You're not doing this just to get back at Daphne, are you?"
"No!" Desmond exclaimed. "Have you seen her? She's beautiful!"
"Well, all right!" Quentin said, genuinely happy for his cousin. "Do you have a date with her yet?"
Desmond nodded. "Tomorrow night we're having dinner at The Inn."
"You do move fast, don't you?" Quentin said jokingly. He turned to his cousin, and mock-posed. "Am I ready?"
"Oh, yeah," Desmond said, trying not to laugh.
"Come on," Quentin said, draping his arm around his cousin's shoulders, "I have a girl to see." They exit the room, talking and laughing, best friends as always and for forever.
Daphne looked out her window, amazed at how dark it had gotten. She smoothed out her nutcracker skirt and looked in the mirror. She should really stop hanging out with Leticia, she mused, as she looked at the disaster that she called her outfit. She had on a rocker T-shirt, paired with a red ballerina skirt and blue sandals. She shook her head and couldn't help laughing. She glanced at the clock and realized Quentin would be here shortly. She hurriedly pulled her hair to the side. As soon as she realized what she was doing, she had to laugh again: more inspiration from Leticia. She rummaged in her make-up case, but soon stopped. Last night, Quentin had said how beautiful she looked without any extra help. Well, he asked for it, she thought.
Her ears caught the sound of Quentin's car driving up her street. She rushed to her window, and saw him get out of his 2010 Chrysler 300. She immediately felt her heart do flips as he knocked on her door. Once again smoothing her skirt nervously, she raced to the front door and opened it. Her face broke into a smile as she saw her date, tall and handsome, look at her with such love in his dazzling blue eyes. He came in and immediately kissed her. "I missed you," he said as their lips parted.
"Me, too," she added, holding him close. "It seemed more like a week than a day."
Quentin smiled and looked at her closely before laughing. "Was Leticia here today?" he asked.
Daphne blushed and said, "I know. Would you rather I changed?"
"No," he said, still laughing, "I like it."
Daphne laughed, too, and they shared a moment of silence, standing in the middle of the living room, just holding each other, loving each other.
Quentin's cell phone jarred them out of their reverie. As he pulled it out of his pocket, Daphne recognized the song: Carried Away by George Strait. "It's Samantha," he sighed, answering it. "What? . . . I can't now . . . I'm at a business meeting (Daphne scowled at him) . . . I don't know, a few hours maybe . . . (he sighed) Yes, I know I have a son that needs me . . . Yes, I know . . . I really can't – listen – lis – hey, just listen, okay? I really can't talk right now. I'll see you when I come home, all right? . . . Yeah . . . Mmm-hmm . . . Right . . . 'Bye." He closed his cell phone and put it back in his pocket, smiling at Daphne. "She never knows when to leave me alone."
"Should I read off last night's minutes?" Daphne said sarcastically.
"What? Oh," Quentin said, smiling sheepishly, "Well, she'll know eventually."
"I told Desmond," Daphne pointed out.
"I know," Quentin said, "He told me. He's found someone new, you know."
"Good," Daphne enthused, "Who?"
"Leticia," Quentin smiled.
Daphne raised her eyebrows. "You know, they just might be perfect for each other." The couple smiled at each other before Daphne asked, "What's my ring tone?"
"Let's Go," Quentin gulped.
"By The Ramones?" Daphne said, scrutinizing Quentin with her eyes. "How come I get a war song and Samantha gets a love song?"
"Samantha picked out her song," Quentin hedged, "And if another person had a love song, she might suspect something."
"Well, how is she going to know 'eventually' if you're so damn good at hiding our relationship?" Daphne asked, her anger rising.
"I'll tell her," Quentin answered.
"When?" Daphne pressed.
"Soon," he hedged. He sat down on Daphne's sofa. "Why don't you put on some music?"
Daphne sighed and smiled, knowing better than to argue with him: he always wins. She walked over to the stereo system and put on a Robert Gordon album, and the sound of good rockabilly music filled the air. She then sat down beside Quentin, getting close. "You like?" she asked.
Quentin nodded. "How did you know?"
Daphne shrugged. "I didn't; I put it on because it's my favorite."
Quentin smiled. "Mine, too."
He placed an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned on him. "What do you do at your job?"
He sighed. "I run the fishing fleet for my father."
Daphne raised her eyebrows, impressed. "Sounds important."
"Yeah, but it's not my style," he said.
"What would you like to do?" she inquired.
"Invent," he replied, a smile creeping over his face.
"Really?" Daphne asked, enthusiastic. "Invent what?"
"I'd like to be the first man to travel through time," he explained excitedly, "Right now, I'm building a staircase that would allow anyone to travel to another century."
"Wow," she said, blown away, "What does Samantha think of this?"
Quentin sighed and leaned back on the couch. "She's unsupportive, as usual."
Daphne shook her head. "Quentin, what are you doing with a woman like that? She should support her husband. I would."
"Would you?" he asked, a mischievous smile on his face. Daphne nodded. He pulled her closer. "Would you support this?" he said, kissing her.
"Yes," she giggled as their mouths parted.
"How about this?" he said as he picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom.