Eleven

After leaving Sabrina’s studio, I pointed my car towards home, deciding to stop to grab some lunch on the way. I ran through the options in my head, trying to decide what I was in the mood for. I had several standard favorites, where I felt comfortable enough eating on my own.

When I graduated from college, I made a list of twenty things that every female should be able to do before she gets married – that was back when I thought I’d be married within a few years. Number twelve on the list was “Eat alone in a sit down restaurant, without props.” At first, it had been difficult to enter nice establishments and ask for a table for one. It had been excruciatingly uncomfortable to not have a book to read, or papers to go over the first few times. But then, I realized how much fun it was to the other diners, trying to figure out what sorts of dynamics were running their relationships, and trying to guess what they were talking about. I also started to make friends with the wait staff at a couple of different restaurants. In the end, I discovered that eating alone was liberating, not embarrassing. As long as I stuck to my favorite restaurants!

I drove up to a diner that I went to quite often. A new sushi bar had opened up next door to it. I had been trying to drag Edie or Sabrina there for a few weeks, but neither was willing, citing a dislike for anything ‘fishy.’ I parked my car, and stood looking at the diner, my bracelet jingling. I would normally have headed towards the diner, ignoring the temptation to try the sushi bar.

Today, however, I was feeling adventurous. Something about having the power of choice made me more willing to try new things. I knew that I had the power to go back and do something different if my new choice was absolutely horrendous. Besides, I thought, what good is it to be able to eat alone, if I don’t exercise that ability at new places?

I walked with determination towards the sushi bar, and straight into the door, that was opening out towards me. I stumbled backwards, tripped over the potted plant sitting next to the door, and was dangerously close to hitting the ground when I felt something, someone rather, catch me.

The gentleman who had caught me helped to my feet, and stood holding my arm.. “Woah! Careful there. You okay?”

I stood gaping at him, unable to answer. The sun was behind his head, obscuring his face a bit, but from what I could see, the man before me proved the existence of God. He was beautiful. In my life, I had rarely before been struck dumb, but I found that at this moment I could not speak. He was just over six feet tall, with big eyes and long lashes; he had thick black hair, with just a little curl.

I stood up a little taller to try to make myself appear more graceful, as if he hadn’t just seen my impromptu audition for the Klutz Ballet. I took a deep breath, preparing to say something witty, slightly self-deprecating, but very intelligent to explain my near fall. Instead, I inhaled the gum I was still chewing. My hands flew to my throat as I started sputtering and choking.

The man who had been holding my arm quickly let go, as a look of shock and concern filled his face. I’m sure by this point, he thought he’d encountered one of the city’s wandering crazy people, on temporary leave from the state mental facility. I did not blame him in the slightest. After a second, he stepped forward, and started pounding me on the back. Finally, I coughed up the gum, which landed with a big splat right on top of his black leather shoe.

By this point, I was ready to run away as fast as possible. I remembered that I had made the decision to come to this restaurant instead of the diner, so I started to reach for my bracelet. I could not handle this much embarrassment at one time. Then, the man shifted, and I saw his face. He had the most beautiful green eyes I had ever seen in the flesh. They were both piercing and kind at the same time.

As I stood pondering the wonder of his eyes, he cleared his throat, “Are you okay? Or are you going to need some more assistance?”

I laughed, and looked down, shaking my head, “I think I am done for now. At least I hope I am!” I saw the gum sitting on his shoe, “Let me get that.” I reached into my purse to find a Kleenex or something with which to wipe the gum off, and started bending down to his shoe.

“Now, now, we can’t have that. I know that you’re grateful, at least you should be!” his eyes were twinkling in amusement, “but there is no need for you to bow down to me.” He reached down, took the tissue out of my hand and grabbed the gum off his shoe himself. Thankfully, it had not left any residue on his nice shoes.

“You are right, I am terribly grateful that you saved me. Twice.” I’m also terribly embarrassed. “Won’t you let me make it up to you? Let me buy you lunch,” I indicated the restaurant, “You don’t even have to sit next to me if you’re worried that I might explode or something.”

I could not believe that I had just asked this man out. I never asked people out. I started to panic slightly, as I waited for his response, not knowing which would be worse: his acceptance or his rejection.

“Lunch sounds good. As long as you promise to take small bites and chew them thoroughly before you swallow. I don’t want to practice the Heimlich on you.”

His acceptance was worse.

“Great!” I chirped, much too loudly. The shock of the fall and the choking had worn off. Now I realized that my lowly self was in the presence of greatness, and that that very same greatness was about to sit across from me for an hour and that he’d expect me to talk. Like a normal person. This would have been an easier prospect if I’d been drunk, but I figured that ordering sake in the middle of the day would give him a false understanding of why I was so klutzy. I couldn’t have Mr. Man thinking I was a klutz and a drunkard.

He opened the door for me, probably to make sure that I didn’t open it on myself. I smiled at him as I went in, thinking again how unusual this situation was for me. I was sure that he was used to this kind of thing happening every day. Minus the tripping and falling and choking, of course. I’m sure that the girls who normally ask him out are tall, lithe model type beings who haven’t tripped since they took their first graceful step as a baby.

Don’t psyche yourself out, Bets. This is just lunch with a guy who saved you a broken bone and a trip to the hospital. Relax. He’s probably married anyway. I looked at his left hand as he asked for a table for two. No ring. That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe he’s a surgeon and just doesn’t wear his ring all the time. Yes, I’m sure this man is married, and therefore, easy to talk to. Even while you’re stuffing sushi in your mouth. I can talk to him about his children. He’s probably got two perfect little kids.

The waiter directed us to a table near the bar where there were several Japanese men in tall white hats rolling sushi.

“Have you been here before?” I asked, as he held my chair out for me.

“No, I haven’t. I’ve actually only lived here for a couple of months. I finished up my residency in June and got a position at St. Mary’s here.”

A doctor! I knew it. I’m sure he’s married.

“Where did you move here from?”

“I did my residency in New York. It was great, but I was ready to get away from the gigantic city life. I like it here – still a big city, but it doesn’t feel so big. Besides, I grew up a few hours from here.”

“I bet the move was hard on your wife,” I ventured.

He laughed. “I’m sure it would have been. But I’m not married.”

Oops. I laughed nervously in response, not knowing how to reply. I was not nearly as smooth in these situations as Sabrina was. She’d have had the guy wrapped around her little finger by now. Thank goodness the waiter came by to get our drink orders at that time, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had been growing between us.

Our drink orders placed, a Diet Pepsi for me, a green tea for him, we turned to the menu. We had a couple of different options – we could order special items from the menu, or go to the bar, and pick up plates of already made sushi items. I opted for the latter, as I liked to see what I was getting before I ate it. I had once accidentally ordered sushi mi, which is actual raw fish. I’m generally adventurous when it comes to food, but I draw the line at uncooked meat.

I put the menu aside and told him that I was going to go to the bar.

“Good, because I was going to do the same myself. I’m lucky enough to get a lunch break today, I don’t want to push it by being gone for hours.” He said as he pushed his chair back.

That was his nice way of saying that he wants this lunch to be as short as possible. I realized, he’s got an easy out. Oh, well. At least it gives me less time to make a fool of myself.

We both walked over to the bar and selected a few plates. My bracelet jingled as I looked through the options. I didn’t figure my life would vary too drastically depending on what I chose, but I was starting to enjoy the cheerful little jingle.

Our drinks were at the table when we got back. Good. We can eat and drink and he can leave. Make this as painless as possible. I reached for my chopsticks, ready to start stuffing my face. Somewhere between Sabrina’s studio and now I had become ravenous. I had a California roll halfway to my mouth, when he spoke up.

“I usually like to know the name of the person I’m going to eat with. It makes digestion easier, I find.”

I blushed, realizing we hadn’t actually introduced ourselves yet. I had been so overcome with his looks, and then embarrassment over the wife comment that I had not even realized I didn’t know his name. “Sorry! I’m Elizabeth Santorini. Everyone calls me Betsy.”

“Betsy, it is lovely to meet you. My name is John Taylor.” He reached across the table to shake my hand. I reached towards him, and stabbed him in the palm with my chopsticks.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” I could not believe it. I thought that I had grown more graceful with age. When I was younger, I was a gigantic klutz, but in the past few years, I’d managed to learn how to carry myself without falling all over the place. Apparently that new found skill was abandoning me today.

“Are you always so accident prone? Or do you really just not like me?”

“Neither! Really. Usually I’m quite graceful. I don’t know what has gotten into me today. Please forgive me.”

“Just so long as it is not a buried hatred of me that’s leading you to do these things.” He laughingly said.

“Not at all, Dr. Taylor.”

“Doctor Taylor? God, you must hate me! No one calls me that but the people I’m about to poke and prod. Call me John, please, and I’ll call you Betsy, okay? Do we have a deal?”

“Deal.” I said, nodding. I stuck my hand out across the table, this time without the chopsticks. John reached across and shook my hand.

“There, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He commented, reaching for his own chopsticks. He flashed me a broad grin, and then shoved a vegetable roll in his mouth.

I laughed, and returned to the California roll I had abandoned. “So, John, what kind of medicine do you do?”

“I am a bona fide brain surgeon, believe it or not.”

“Really? Wow. That’s got to be a great conversation topic at parties.”

He laughed, “You know, I haven’t been to an actual party in several years. It is really easy to get caught up in work. I can tell you though, when I tell people I’m a neurosurgeon, they clam up pretty quickly. They find it intimidating.”

“Are you telling me that I should be finding you scary right now?”

“Yes, actually, you should. I am usually the smartest person in the room, which tends to send people running for the hills.” I was surprised at how arrogant he was all of a sudden; I hadn’t expected that of him. “Yet I can’t seem to think of a good cover story to tell people. You know: Hi, I’m John Taylor, a friendly neighborhood trash collector. People tend to see through that to my natural brilliance. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so gosh darn perfect.” He sat, shaking his head, looking dejected.

I wasn’t sure at this point if he was being serious or not. I took a chance, and followed my instinct to laugh. He rewarded me with a wide smile and a wink.

“No,” he continued, “It’s true that people tend to find my profession intimidating, but I would be the first to tell you that I am no smarter than the next man. I just work harder than some people choose to. It’s as simple as that.”

“Hmm. Somehow I doubt that anything you do is ‘simple.’ I can’t imagine working that hard all the time.”

“Well,” he said, with a look of pride and contentment, “I really love what I do. It makes the work part of it easy.”

“I wish I could say the same for my work.”

“What is it that you do, Betsy?”

“Actually, right now, I do nothing. I just quit my job this morning.”

“Should I congratulate you or offer my sympathy?”

“Congratulate, definitely. I was pretty miserable at that job. I feel like I’m free now, but I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life now.”

“What do you want to do?”

My stock answer to this question was that I didn’t know yet, but our conversation had been flowing so smoothly that, I didn’t even think before answering, “Well, I’ve always wanted to run my own bookstore. I could sit and commune with books all day long. And people would come in, and I could give them advice about what kinds of books they’d like. I have something of a sixth sense about knowing what kinds of books people would like, have been that way since I was ten and started picking out books for my mother.

I even found a place this morning that would be perfect for a bookstore. I’d have new and used books, and I would invite local authors to come read. And I could have a story hour for kids. I may even have a café, and internet access so students could come and study all night long. And I would sit on my chair behind the counter watching over everything, making sure that everyone was having a good time.” I stopped talking, realizing that I had been bordering on babbling. After the initial embarrassment, I found that talking to John was really easy.

He sat looking at me for a moment. Great, I totally scared him with my ranting. I need to learn when to keep my mouth shut. Short and sweet, just like mom says. Guys like to hear their own voice on occasion, too.

“Sorry,” I said. “I guess I get excited when I think about it.”

“No, I was just thinking that it was great to hear so much enthusiasm. A lot of people I meet are not happy with their lives, but don’t seem to have a good idea of how to make it better. I admire the fact that you quit a job you didn’t like. You definitely need to follow through with your bookstore plans. Then you can be as intimidating as I am!”

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but somehow, I don’t think a bookstore owner would have quite the same cowersome effect as a brain surgeon.”

“Cowersome?”

“Yes ‘cowersome: full of the ability to make people cower in intimidated shock.’ Cowersome.”

“I don’t think I’ve run across that particular word before.” He said, a bit perplexed.

“You obviously haven’t read the Unabridged Betsy Dictionary of Made Up Words.”

He smiled at me. “I’ll have to try to get a copy of that. I’m sure my library is not complete without it.”

Good grief. He even pretends to like my stupid jokes. I’m treading in dangerous water here. Get too close, and you’ll get hurt, Betsy, girl. Remember that.

“You’ll have to wait for the next edition to come out. We’re all sold out of the last series,” I replied, carrying the joke on. “I’ll let you know when the next one comes out. Would you care to sign up for our e-mailing list?”

“I’d rather sign up for the personal call from the author.” He said, not breaking a smile.

My God! Is he seriously telling me that he wants me to call him? It can’t be. He was just continuing with the joke, that’s all. “But, seriously, why aren’t you at work, slaving the daylight hours away?”

He looked at his watch. “I was given a few hours reprieve – we had a surgery cancellation, and there were no patients for me to see in clinic this afternoon. I decided to take the chance to flee the hospital for a few hours to get to know this new city I’m living in. And if I was lucky, to meet a fascinating and beautiful maiden in distress whom I could help with my knight like ways.”

Fascinating? Beautiful? Was there any chance he was actually referring to me? It didn’t seem quite right. Funny. Cute. Those are the terms people use to describe me. John had it all wrong. I figured I would tell him as soon as I stopped blushing so much.

Suddenly, I heard a beeping. For a moment, I thought my bracelet was going crazy. I tried to figure out what decision I could have been making. Then, seeing John reach for his waistband, I realized that his pager was going off.

“Sorry,” he said, looking truly apologetic, “Work hazard.” He pulled a cell phone out from his inside coat pocket and flipped it open. “Oops. Looks like there is no reception right here. I’ll be right back.” He stood up and walked over to the entrance of the restaurant.

I sat still, looking at what remained of my sushi. I’d been so captivated during mine and John’s conversation that I hadn’t even felt nervous about eating. That was a new experience for me, especially on a first date.

I thought about John’s subtle reference to wanting me to call. Him getting a page at lunch could only mean that they needed him back at the hospital. It would be very easy for me to just jot my own number down on a piece of paper and slip it to him before he left. I listened for, and heard the jingle of my bracelet. Fabulous! That would let me try giving him the number, but would save me horrific embarrassment if I needed to go back and change that decision.

I had just finished jotting down my number when a woman walked up to the table. She was wearing dark sunglasses, even though it was relatively dim in the restaurant, and a scarf over her hair.

“Are you, like, his girlfriend, or something?” She asked me, a look of disdain on her face.

“Umm. What is it to you? Who are you?”

“I’m someone who cares about John Taylor. I think you should stay away from him.”

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t appreciate the consequences. That’s all.” She raised her nose in the air, turned on her heel and walked quickly away.

I was slightly disturbed by the whole interchange, and wasn’t quite sure what to think about it. It had felt like she was threatening me. I’d have to ask John about it when he returned.

He appeared about ten seconds later. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask about the mysterious woman, but he appeared to be in a rush, so I waited.

“I’m sorry, Betsy. There is an emergency at the hospital. I’m going to have to cut this meal short.”

Darn! This had been going so well. “It wasn’t exactly as if we’d planned it, now, was it?”

“No it isn’t. But I would have if I could.” He was still standing next to the table, looking into my eyes. I felt as if time was standing still; as if John was looking through my eyes into my entire being. I had the overwhelming desire for him to find me worthy. I had never felt this way before – as if my whole life was going to change from this moment forward. My meeting with Fatima had been life changing, but that had nothing on the way I felt right now. I wanted to throw myself into his arms and hold on tight.

Instead, I held out the slip of paper holding my number. He took it and smiled. “I’ll trade you,” he said as he handed me a slip of paper of his own. “And, now I have to run. Betsy, I can’t tell you just how nice it was to meet you.”

“You too, John. Good luck with your patient.”

“Thanks! See you. Soon, I hope.”

I blushed again, “Me too.”

With one last smile at me, he rushed out the door and off to the hospital. I noticed that the mysterious woman left shortly after he did and realized that I’d neglected to ask him about her. Oh, well. That will have to wait until next time. I just sat at the table, grinning like an idiot for a full minute. I shook myself, realizing that I was acting just like Sabrina after one of her ‘perfect’ dates.

This wasn’t even a date. I was thanking him for saving me a big hole in the rear of my suit. Besides, I haven’t been on a date in so long, that I’m probably just over reacting to a guy who was simply being nice.

I continued to try to keep myself tethered to the real world. It would do me no good to get all dreamy eyed about John and our possible future together. Though it was really tempting to think of John and me, twenty years down the road. Doing things like getting an ice cream cone on a warm summer night, and sharing it was we walked around the neighborhood, hurrying to catch the drips before they ran down the side of the cone. Or opening one present each on Christmas Eve with our kids, two of them, leaving the rest of the Christmas bounty for early the next morning.

Stop it! Get a grip. It’s not like he even asked you out, I reminded myself harshly. Then I looked at the slip paper he had given me, which I still had clutched in my hand. I smoothed it out, eager to see what sort of message he’d left for me. It was a receipt. Disappointment swamped me. It was very kind of him to pay for our lunch, but I had so been hoping for more.

I tossed the receipt down on the table, then noticed the writing on the back. In a firm, confident hand, that was surprisingly legible for a doctor, he had written the name of a popular restaurant down town, followed by a poem:

November 3
I’m sitting in a café,
drinking a Coke.

A fly is sleeping
on a paper napkin.

I have to wake him up,
so I can wipe my glasses.

There’s a pretty girl
I want to look at.

“Brautigan,” I whispered, naming one of my all time favorite poets. How had he known? Under the poem, he’s scrawled: “Instead of a café on November 3, how about a restaurant this Friday? 7:00 – I’ll bring my glasses, you bring yourself.” After that, he’d included his phone number.

I walked out of the sushi bar floating higher than I had in years. What a perfect day this was turning out to be – first I’d ditched the awful job, then got a date with the most incredible man I’d ever met. I could get used to having this bracelet around.