by Lucy Lambert
I laughed a little too loud. The couples at the tables around us paused in their own awkward conversations to eye us.
I covered my mouth, preventing any further noise from escaping.
Bad puns and jokes got me every time.
“You know,” Neil said, “I thought you might appreciate that one.”
I thought—hoped—that I could control myself. So I removed my hand from my mouth. The air felt cool on my lips.
“It was good,” I said, “Mind if I steal that one for myself?”
“I’ll let you know my royalty rates,” Neil replied.
“A bit presumptuous, aren’t we?” I said around another smile. If I wasn’t careful my lips might get stuck that way, like in the old wives’ tale.
“Hey, life’s too short to let any opportunities pass you by.”
Part of me wanted to march Neil back over to the table with the business creeper, then say, Look, this is how you do it! This is the right way to be forward with someone!
“Neil, I have to say I wasn’t expecting to have a good time here at all tonight. Thanks for going against my expectations.”
He started to reply, but then the bell rang. The toll signalled the dropping of my heart down into my stomach. I wanted more time.
From the way Neil looked back at me, I knew he thought the same.
“Remember,” he said, “You can’t use that joke unless you pay me.”
“Maybe I’ll just steal it anyway,” I said. I glanced at the table number while I stood. I put a check mark next to it.
I watched Neil glance down below the level of the table, his elbows twitching a little while he made a mark of his own on his card.
For once this evening, I found myself wondering what mark he put down. Wondering and hoping.
“Excuse me.”
I looked. A skinny brunette with a hook nose glanced at me, then down at the chair I still occupied.
Jealousy flared in the pit of my stomach, and I had the urge to keep her away from Neil.
No, he’s mine!
Then I realized how crazy that sounded. I barely knew the guy. Sure, we seemed to have some sort of connection, but that was all.
Especially considering the attitude I came into the whole thing with.
So I gave the brunette a polite smile and vacated the seat.
I spared Neil’s table another glance when I sat down across from another guy, a professor-looking type with a tweed jacket and, I kid you not, elbow patches.
He was also somewhere in his forties and fooling no one about it.
Neil glanced at me, caught my eye. Then, like a high schooler caught checking out her crush in science class, I averted my eyes, spots of heat flaring in my cheeks.
I hope he put a check mark!
Chapter 2
NEIL
I glanced down at the cue card on my lap.
Rachel S it read, followed by a clear, form check mark. It was the only check mark so far, many X marks preceding it.
I wished that we had more than two minutes together. But sometimes two minutes could be enough.
I watched her from the corner of my eye. I kept wanting to turn my full attention to her.
To see the lovely heart shape of her face again, and the way her auburn hair fell just a bit past her shoulders.
I thought of the way she’d absently brushed a lock of that hair off her forehead and my stomach warmed.
I thought most about her eyes, which were green, and the way they laughed along with her. They were large and inquisitive and soft all at once, and I wanted to look into them again.
“I’m Cindy!” the girl across the table from me said.
She said it with such exuberance that I could see the exclamation point. Everything she said for the next two minutes she exclaimed
“Neil,” I replied.
I hoped that Rachel had given me a check mark.
I regretted that I’d hidden so much from her. No outright lies, of course. Just omissions. And for a second there I thought she’d recognized me. Which I think actually played into that connection I felt with her.
Still, I liked being incognito. I liked the mystery of it. It was refreshing to get away from myself.
I stole a glance in Rachel’s direction. I caught her doing the same to me.
Chapter 3
RACHEL
A week went by since my speed date session at the Olive Garden.
My job kept me fairly busy, so it took that long until I got together with Suzy again. We sat in the small living room of her Bushwick apartment, which was just down the street from my place actually, a glass of cool, semisweet Riesling in front of each of us.
“Where are the others?” I asked. I adjusted my butt on the sofa, pushing the cushion backwards so that I was no longer in danger of slipping off onto the carpet.
“Work, baby showers, all that,” Suzy said, “We’re at that age, you know.”
I picked up the wine glass, holding it mostly by the stem so that the heat of my hand couldn’t warm the white wine.
“The age where everyone’s off running their own lives, no time for old college friends?” I said. I took a sip. It was good wine. I made a mental note to ask her to see the bottle.
“Pretty much. Everyone’s off starting a family, or starting to start a family. Or they’ve made work their family.” She gave me a pointed look when she said that last part.
“Hey! No fair. I went to that dumb speed date thing like you all wanted me to,” I said.
“And? It’s been a week, Rach.”
I put the glass down on a coaster. I pursed my lips. Man, I wish she hadn’t brought it up. I’d been hoping to avoid this subject.
Of course, right after, when Suzy gave me a lift back to my place, I spilled my guts about Mr. Perfect, Neil T. How he’d been my only check mark for the night.
“Nothing,” I said, “Well, something. I got an email from the service the next day saying that I had no matches. And a coupon for another go around.”
“That’s crazy!” Suzy said. Her hair was nearly black, and she kept it in ringlets that bounced against her shoulders.
At that moment, those ringlets quivered with some combination of righteous anger and confusion.
“The way you were talking,” she continued, “It sounds like you guys had an instant connection!”
“We did,” I said, “But I told you that speed dating is stupid, anyway. And this proves my point. No more speed dating. No more normal dating. No more internet dating. I wish you guys were all here so I could tell you all to stop trying to fix me up with someone. I’m happy by myself.”
Me, Myself, and I all make for great company, I thought. I ignored the strain of bitterness in that thought.
“We care about you is all,” Suzy said, “We want you to be happy.”
“Well it didn’t work. I got my hopes up and everything. He really was pretty great, he—“
Suzy held up one bejewelled hand. She loved costume jewellery. “It’s okay, I don’t need to hear about how great good ole’ Neil was. I got enough of that in the car.”
I took another sip of wine. It was nice and warm in my stomach. “Maybe I’m just not meant to be with someone right now.”
“Or maybe Neil’s a jerk who didn’t know a good thing when he saw it,” then Suzy’s eyes flashed, “Or maybe there was a mistake. Maybe he put a check by the wrong name. Are you sure you put down the right stuff on the card?”
“Pretty,” I said, frowning. I’d been pretty excited at the time, caught up in that rush of feelings that happened when you met someone you really connected with.
“Maybe you’ll see him again,” she suggested.
I frowned, “In New York? I think that’s kind of pushing it, Suze.”
She shrugged, took another sip of her wine before continuing, “The world’s a lot smaller than most people think.”
SATURDAY CAME AROUND.
It was supposed to be a fun Saturday, going into the city
with the girls for lunch followed by shopping followed by dessert at Serendipity’s.
Except then work called. They needed someone that knew how to use the computers.
I’d lucked into this job. The firm was mostly crewed by older men and women still stuck in the Xerox age, who couldn’t quite get their heads around how a fax machine worked yet, let alone email.
And my application coincided with a push from the board to update to more modern techniques. Techniques like computers and Wi-Fi and the internet in general.
I just knew that if I put the effort in I could really shoot up the ladder at this place.
To me, that meant taking overtime when offered. Going in evenings and weekends when asked. Going above and beyond, basically.
So I texted Sharon, who was running today’s little outing to Manhattan, saying work called and I couldn’t come.
Her response:
:(
We miss hanging out with you.
Maybe next time?
I replied with a Yes and a frownie-face of my own and caught a bus across the river.
It turned out that agreeing to go into work today was the best possible choice I could have made.
I WALKED DOWN MADISON Avenue, enjoying the press of the pedestrians, the smell of hotdogs when I passed by a cart. Even the squeal of brakes and the beep beep of jostling taxis on the street.
Even after coming to school in New York, I still couldn’t quite resist the urge to look up at the glittering sky scrapers which towered all around me.
I couldn’t quite believe that I worked in one, either. Up on the 41st floor.
And so it was because I couldn’t keep my eyes from straying up that I ran into someone. Quite literally.
I had glanced at the street light to see that I still had the walk signal, then my gaze shifted back up, watching the way the late morning sun cast the eastern side of the buildings in burning gold.
Then we collided.
“Oh!” I said.
I wore a pair of wedges because the firm liked business casual. I thought they struck a balance between practicality and looks.
But they didn’t strike a balance in balance.
My left ankle turned when I overcorrected, trying to keep from falling. Instead, that move insured it.
I fell on my butt on the sidewalk of Madison Avenue. I hit the sidewalk hard enough that pain jolted up my back and left me flinching. Though I thought my pride was hurt more than my tailbone.
The thing I ran into turned out to be a man. A man who turned in time to see me land flat on my backside.
I looked down at myself, trying to see if I managed to tear or rip anything. Also hoping that I hadn’t just sat my nice new skirt into a puddle of anything. And to make sure that it didn’t ride too far up my thighs.
“Quite the fender bender,” he said, “But it looks like there’s nothing a little buffing can’t take out.”
I recognized that voice.
He knelt down in front of me, holding out one hand. “Offer you a lift?”
“Neil?” I said.
The fingers on that outstretched hand twitched. “Rachel?”
He remembers my name!
We looked at each other, people passing us by on either side, not really paying attention. Once you lived in the city long enough nothing really fazed you anymore.
He wore a suit, the jacket open, the tip of his silk tie dangling, almost touching the rough surface of the sidewalk.
“You said you worked downtown,” I said.
I still hadn’t accepted that hand. I still sat there on the sidewalk, my own palms pressed against the rough cement.
“So did you. Going to sit there all day?”
I didn’t accept his help. I pushed up and stood. My ankle didn’t hurt, thankfully. But I did totter for one uncertain second while I regained my balance.
He reached out again to steady me and I almost fell again. He pulled that hand back.
I wanted to push him back against the glass wall of the office tower closest to us and demand to know why he didn’t match with me.
Why didn’t I get a check mark? I gave you one! I gave you my only one!
Except I didn’t do or say any of that, because that would be crazy. That, and I had to get to work.
Again, I gave myself a quick examination. Nothing seemed torn or stretched. I pulled a couple wrinkles out of my skirt.
“I never thought I’d see you again,” Neil said, “I mean, I hoped that, maybe... But realistically?”
I thought about what Suzy said to me, about the world being a much smaller place than most people realized.
“Well take a good look, because this is the last you’ll be seeing of me,” I said.
The light changed and I crossed the street, passing in front of the bumpers of innumerable yellow cabs and black Town Cars and limos.
My heart galloped.
I really, really wanted to know why we didn’t match. It had seemed so good. And he looked good, both in the dim light of the Olive Garden and out in the daylight on the street.
And that suit! Perfectly tailored.
I walked almost an entire block before I realized he was still there.
“Rachel, wait,” he said.
For a moment, I sped up, my wedges clicking against the sidewalk with the force of my stride. He kept up easily, what with being so much taller.
We came up on the building where I worked, a towering monstrosity of steel and glass. I stopped, not wanting to walk any farther.
“What is it? Need me to stop so you can take a picture?” I said. I crossed my arms and glared at him.
Why didn’t you give me a check mark, damn it? I wanted to scream the question. But that was more crazy talk.
I could feel it. Feel my bitch shield coming up. That mean, and usually cruel personality that took over. Usually I let it do its work, scaring off creepers or weirdos.
But with Neil I didn’t want it to.
“You can go, I just want to know one thing,” he said.
He kept looking into my eyes. It felt like he could see right through me, right into me. It wasn’t fair for a man to have a stare like that. Or eyes that deep. Or eyelashes so long and even they made me jealous.
“Yes?” I said. I noticed that my tone had softened a little.
His jaw tightened for a second. And even though I didn’t know him that well, I was surprised. I’d gotten the impression that Neil was a supremely confident, self-assured guy. What did he have to be uncertain, maybe even nervous, about?
“Normally,” he said, “I can read a situation pretty well. Read people pretty well. But not with you. I just want you to answer one question and then I’ll leave you alone...”
“Good,” I said.
He ignored my interruption, “Why didn’t you match with me? I thought it was a sure thing. Actually, you were my only check mark for that evening...”
“Wait, what are you talking about? You’re the one who didn’t match me. I put a check mark down and everything!”
He shook his head.
I continued. My heart felt about ready to pop out of my chest. “Yes, I know what I did. I put a check down next to Table 25 on my cue card—“
He smiled and gave his head a little, rueful shake.
“What? What’s so funny?” I said. My hands shifted onto my hips.
“Rachel, I was at Table 24.”
I stood, quiet and dumb, for a shocked moment. “Oh,” I managed, “Woops.”
“I guess,” he said, “We were just meant to meet anyway. Come out with me. This time when we sit down in a restaurant we can also grab something to eat.”
“That sounds like a lovely idea and all,” I said, “But I’m actually on my way to work right now.”
He stood a little closer to me. I did my best to make my eyes not give him a once over. Or twice or thrice over, either.
I did, however, notice the way that the sounds of the brakes and horns and engines muffled. I noticed how
the world seemed to close in around us.
“I understand,” he said, “If you’ll let me, I’m pretty sure I could convince you to—“
“Play hooky? I haven’t done that since sophomore year of high school, and I’m not about to break my streak. Not even for you.”
I said that feeling my lips tug into an involuntary smile.
It was a smile he mirrored.
“‘Not even’ me, is that it? You make it sound like I’m something special.”
Careful, Rach, you’re getting too close to the edge with this one, I thought. I saw the truth in that warning. Saw that, if I let myself, if we let ourselves, things could get crazy between the two of us quickly.
And the thing that got to me most was that I yearned for it. For over a year now my life had been pretty routine and ordinary, settling into a pattern that I could easily see taking me through the next 40 years until the firm sent me away with a gold watch and some memories.
Then along came Neil T from that speed dating group, threatening the whole thing with some flirting and a smile.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” I said. I reached out and touched his arm. His bicep, actually. I meant to take my hand away quickly, but the well-formed muscle invited a squeeze.
A squeeze I resisted. The hand stayed a few moments too long, and we both knew it. My stomach knotted in excitement.
“I have to get to work,” I repeated. I forced my hand away from him and stepped around him. Without looking, I knew he was watching.
I stopped a few steps away. I pulled a little notepad out of my bag, a pen tied to the binding loops by a piece of fishing line. I scrawled across a page near the back of said notepad.
I tore that page out and gave it to Neil.
“I’m not always at work,” I said, grateful for one more look at this handsome man in the light of day.
Although I knew that was something Suzy and the others said lately. My mind was always at work. I was always taking extra time at the office, never refusing weekends or evenings.
He took the piece of paper, glanced at it, and then secreted it into a pocket inside his suit jacket.
“Maybe the stars will align a bit better next time and you’ll agree to going out.”