Culture Shock Read Online Free Page B

everything was tidy before she showered.
    In the bathroom, she stood with her hand under the running water for what seemed an eternity. When the coldness finally changed to warm, Cynthia stepped into the tub and drew the shower curtain closed. As usual, the pressure was terrible. Water dribbled out rather than sprayed. She lathered her body with fragrant, liquid jasmine, then struggled to remove the suds with the diminished trickle.
     
    Suddenly, the pressure increased at the same time that the water turned to ice. She screamed and bolted from the tub, goose bumps dotting her ivory skin. She reached in to turn off the shower, then quickly grabbed a towel. "Yikes! I hate this place. First, no hot water then cold water. What next?  Oh, Lord, find me a new place to live…one I can afford!"
    Her thoughts turned to her pending dinner with Alex.  “Never mind, Lord,” She added to her prayer. “I found a bright spot that makes me want to stay, at least a while longer.”
     
    ***
     
    Tine was nearing seven o'clock. Dinner was ready, the oven set to warm. She’d spent the last hour checking and re-checking her appearance. After all, this time she wanted to make a good impression. His first glimpse of her hadn't been all that great-hair a mess, no make-up, sweaty, and probably smelling pretty like a garden bouquet.
    The small table in the kitchen was set for two, complete with candle and cloth napkins. Smooth jazz played softly on the radio. She nervously paced, mentally chastising herself for getting ready so early.
    At the sound of a knock, she adjusted her blouse collar and made sure her shirttail was tucked into her jeans. Before opening the door, she recalled a hint she picked up from a magazine, bent at the waist and swept her hair from side-to-side to give it a fuller, more natural appearance. A sudden wave of dizziness overtook her when she straightened, and she held her hand against her forehead. "Whew," she whispered. "Head rush! Let's not do that again."
    Feeling a tad disoriented, she opened the door.
    He looked magnificent in his form-fitting Levi's and a cobalt blue T-shirt that almost matched his eyes. His thick, black hair, no longer confined beneath headphones, was impeccably styled, and he sported white, tennis shoes that were as unblemished as his dark complexion.
    Her heart fluttered and she still felt dizzy, but surely not from any crummy beauty tip. "Hi. You're right on time. Come in."
    His outstretched hand held a bottle of wine. "I hope you like White Zin."
    "I love it. It's my favorite." Her hand grazed his as she took the bottle. "Would you like a glass before dinner?"
    "Sure, why not? Wine has never been my forte, but Emily Post says it's good etiquette to bring a bottle of wine to dinner. So, for the sake of appearances I'll have a glass before we eat." He cocked his head. "During the meal? Maybe afterwards?"
    "Then I'm thinking you should have brought more than one bottle," she quipped.
    He smiled. "Actually, I can probably only handle one glass. Although a good, cold brew is my drink of choice, tonight I'm making a sacrifice. I'm trying to make a good impression. So...how am I doin' so far?"
    Retrieving the only two wine glasses she owned, she glanced over her shoulder as she poured. "You're doing just fine. You picked a wine I like and I have just enough glasses. I'd say you're on a roll."
    Cynthia walked over and handed him his wine. "Sit. Please. Make yourself comfortable. But..."
    She was just about to warn him when the weakened springs of the dilapidated sofa collapsed under his weight. He sank into the worn cushion, his knees almost level with his eye-brows, his glass raised to keep his wine from spilling. Confusion etched on his face, he looked up at Cynthia. "Should I have sat somewhere else?"
    Rather than cry from embarrassment, Cynthia couldn’t get past how funny he looked and collapsed into a fit of giggles. “I’m sorry,” she managed choking on her laughter. “I was just going