Just Three Dates

by David Burnett

  “Richard was drinking, you know. I think he carries his flask everywhere he goes, just in case. By the time we got to my apartment he was tipsy. Asked to spend the night on my couch. I doubted he would stay on the couch so I made him leave.”

  She shivered and then took a bite of toast.

  “I saw your photographs in the Post and Courier on Sunday. They were terrific. Especially the one of the player doing the reverse layup. His back was to the basket when he jumped and he held the ball over his head, dropping it in without looking.”

  “Thank you. I liked that one too.”

  As people left the shop, new customers entered, cold air pouring into the room each time the door opened.

  “I wish they would stop opening the door,” Mark murmured.

  Neither spoke for a moment as he took a second bite of his biscuit and Karen ate the last of her scrambled eggs, followed by the last of her orange juice.

  Mark looked up as Karen cleared her throat.

  “Mark, I want to make something completely clear to you.” She stared into his eyes as he placed his biscuit back on the plate.

  “Okay.”

  The pupils of her eyes were the tiny, dark dots he had noticed when she had taken on Will Simpson at the opening of the Monet exhibit. He had thought, then, he never wanted to be the prey on which those eyes were focused.

  Mark leaned back, away from the table.

  “I was in no way in league with our mothers when they concocted their scheme. I was appalled at the entire plan and only went along with it to make my mother stop trying to push me into marriage. It was insulting for you to suggest that I picked you out, without even knowing you, to be my husband. You must think I’m a tramp.”

  Karen stopped talking, continuing to look into his eyes. He felt she was either daring him to repeat what he’d said at the game or demanding an apology.

  “I…I’m sorry. It’s just that I…I was surprised to find you with Richard and…I should have kept my mouth shut.”

  No one could argue with that.

  Karen did not break eye contact. “You should have.”

  Mark looked down at the table.

  “I don’t think poorly of you, Karen. You’re a very nice person. I also want to apologize for what I said about you and Richard. As I told you, I barely remember him and I obviously don’t know you very well either.”

  “Mark, don’t…”

  He shook his head. “No, I was totally out of line when I suggested you two do not belong together. I’m sure you’ll be very happy.”

  “Thank you.” She dropped her eyes.

  After a moment, Mark coughed.

  “So, how did you meet Richard? Hard to believe that he frequents the museum.”

  “That’s not nice. You just admitted you don’t know him,” she exclaimed. “Besides, I’ve dated other guys who hadn’t stepped into an art museum for years before they knew me.”

  “Point taken.” Mark sipped his coffee and rested his forearm on the table, waiting to hear how she and Richard met.

  Karen sighed. “My mother introduced us right before Halloween. Thought I needed a distraction.”

  “You’ve known him for two months?”

  “Almost three.” She fingered the ring hanging from the chain around her neck.

  “Richard moves quickly and he doesn’t understand no. You find it easier to simply give in to him rather than to argue.”

  “I can imagine.”

  The waitress refilled their cups, then floated away to attend to the other patrons.

  “As I said, I was not part of our mothers’ conspiracy. I was looking for love.” She swallowed hard. “I finally accepted that it’s not going to happen. Prince Charming won’t ask me to slip on a shoe, Cupid’s arrow won’t pierce my heart, toads never turn into princes, and white knights do not rescue damsels.” She crossed her arms.

  “Believe it or not, Richard and I see marriage in the same way. He wants a ‘near ten or higher’ who will sleep in his bed, care for his children, and decorate the platform, smiling adoringly, when he decides to run for public office. In return, money will never constrain me, and I can otherwise live my life as I want.”

  She sounded like Mark’s mother.

  “Do you like him?” It was one of his mother’s requirements.

  “That’s none of your business,” Karen exclaimed. “Of course…of course I like him…Why would you care anyway?”

  “He’s not your type.”

  “Tell me, Doctor Stuart, just who is my type?” She stared at him for a moment. “A man who never laughs? One who is happy he will never have to see me again as long as he lives but then asks me for a date? An ill-mannered ass who misinterprets my actions, walks away without a word, and leaves me to wonder what I could have possibly done that drove him away? One who tells my best friend that hell will freeze before he asks me out?”

  Mark dropped his eyes, embarrassed.

  “You are correct. Richard certainly is not that type,” she exclaimed. “And, again, why would you care?”

  Mark reached out to take her hand, but Karen moved it away, placing it in her lap.

  “I do like you, Karen, and I did treat you badly, but I’d hate to see you buffaloed into a marriage that will not make you happy.”

  He stood, slipped on his overcoat, and, taking a last gulp of coffee, he scooped up the remains of his biscuit. “I need to run. Have a nice day.”

  Mark paid for his breakfast. He paused before opening the door and stepping out into the cold, awkwardly balancing his biscuit as he pulled gloves over his hands.

  “I will be happy.” Her voice rose above those of the others in the café, several people stopping their conversations and turning to look. Her arms were wrapped protectively around her body and she glared at Mark.

  “I hope so,” Mark muttered. He pulled his coat closed and stepped out into the cold.

  ***

  Karen watched him walk away.

  “I will be happy,” she said to herself.

  She brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes, and Richard’s ring brushed against her chest. She took it between two fingers and held it out to inspect it.

  It was not really his class ring. He wore that massive piece of twenty-four-carat gold on his right hand, proudly proclaiming to everyone he met, “I wear the ring,” the motto pompously spouted by every graduate of the military college as if their degrees were the equivalent of those awarded by Harvard. Richard claimed he had not once removed his ring since his at-the-time girlfriend had slipped it on his finger during the ring ceremony at the end of his junior year.

  In the past, she knew, the college had sold miniature versions of the rings so that cadets could give them to their girlfriends, and she recalled that her childhood babysitter had worn one, trading it for an engagement ring a couple of years later. The ring she wore was one of those miniatures or, perhaps, one intended for a woman, now that there were female cadets.

  Surely a miniature, gold plated rather than twenty-four carat. She was likely not the first to wear it, either.

  Mark was wrong to believe she had conspired with their mothers to trap him into marriage, and she did not believe he liked her. Tears stung her eyes. He certainly had not behaved as if he did.

  He had been correct, though, when he had observed how quickly one event could follow another. When all parties wanted a wedding, six months was not too short a time, not even for one that would fill Grace Cathedral for the kind of wedding both her family and Richard’s would expect.

  She knew the engagement ring would be offered again in a month, on Valentine’s Day. She knew she would accept it, and, with little doubt, she would be Richard’s wife, sharing his “bed and board,” as the saying went, before Labor Day.

  “I will be happy,” she mumbled again.

  ***

  Mark strode away from the coffee shop, fighting against the wind until he turned the corner. Lying in bed the night before, he had decided h
e had misinterpreted Karen’s intention toward Richard, but she had made it very clear this morning. She didn’t love the man. Her words, her body language, her voice, the expression on her face, all of them agreed. She should not be planning to marry him.

  “I can’t believe you traveled all the way from the UK to be with me.”

  Mark and Lucia snuggled on the sofa in her apartment near the college.

  “Of course I came. I told you I would. I love you.” She kissed him.

  “Your dad was terrific, finding the apartment, helping me get a job, showing me how to apply for school. And I love your sister.”

  “They love you, Lucia.”

  “Not your mum. I can see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice.”

  “You’re imagining things. Mom takes a while to warm up to people. Once she knows you better, she will think you’re wonderful. Once she realizes you love me and I love you.” He kissed her. “Love is what is important.”

  He began to walk slowly, in spite of the cold.

  Love hadn’t been important. Not in the end.

  He stopped walking altogether now, looking up into the sky as snowflakes began to fall. He sighed.

  Perhaps his mother was right. Find someone you can live with. Fall in love later, if you’re lucky.

  Karen seemed to be a nice person, easy to talk with, fun to be around. How difficult would it be to share his house with her? Dine out and party together? Attend the theater? Watch television, prepare meals, sleep beside each other?

  Karen was planning that life with Richard. Her protest aside, she had been planning it with him. Could he not have enjoyed a life like that? Without love?

  Moot question.

  An image of Karen dancing with the other men at the Mountain Grill passed through his mind, and his disappointment felt as fresh as it had that night when she had chosen the others in his place. She wanted nothing to do with him.

  As the snow began to fall harder, Mark hurried toward his office, knowing if the snow continued, schools and businesses would close and the college would cancel classes. Half an inch would be enough to tie up traffic in a southern city like Charleston.

  Valentine’s Day

  Mark despised Valentine’s Day. While its official celebration encompassed a single day in mid-February, valentines—cards, candy, stuffed animals decorated with red hearts—would appear in stores in late December, vying with after-Christmas sales for space on the shelves. For six weeks at the beginning of each year, he was reminded he had no girlfriend, no fiancée, no spouse, no one other than his parents and sister who cared a whit whether he lived or died.

  So it seemed in his most morose moments at any rate.

  On Valentine’s Day, itself, he was forced to watch students arriving for class, carrying stuffed animals and boxes of candy. On a couple of occasions, messengers had arrived while he was teaching, knocking at the classroom door, asking to deliver bouquets of red roses to some excited student. This year, he had been tempted to give an out-of-class assignment so he wouldn’t even need to leave home.

  Dinner at a restaurant was difficult for a week on either side of the day, but last year he had been determined not to allow the occasion to dictate his behavior. He had not chosen an expensive restaurant, but, still, two couples had become engaged while he watched from his table for one. He had sworn that, from then on, he would call for take-out.

  The only reason he found himself at the Olde City House restaurant tonight was because his parents had been married on Valentine’s Day thirty-eight years ago, and this year his sister had successfully badgered him into joining her in taking them to dinner to celebrate. In his mind Mark had decided it was because they all felt sorry for him, more than to celebrate.

  Their reservation had been at six o’clock since both Emily and his parents had parties to attend later. At least he would be able to go home before the seriously romantic couples arrived.

  He had purposely avoided looking around at all of the happy faces, but during dessert, he allowed his gaze to wander. Across the room, he spied Richard Bailey. Perfect, he thought. All alone and I run into Karen.

  At least he couldn’t see her. Stone pillars surrounded the room, creating the effect of a Greek temple, and Richard’s table was set next to one of them. Richard’s back was facing Mark, and Karen was not visible from behind the column. He had not noticed Richard and Karen arrive and perhaps she had not seen him.

  He took a last bite of baklava and placed his fork on the plate.

  “Dinner was delicious, Emily,” he told to his sister. “Excellent suggestion.”

  “I’m glad you liked it.” Emily smiled.

  Mark was reaching for his glass of wine, intending to propose a toast to his parents, when he heard a squeal from Richard’s table. Turning his head, he saw Richard standing, leaning across the table.

  I don’t have to watch this.

  He placed his napkin on the table, planning to retreat to the restroom, although he could not pinpoint why it would bother him to watch as Karen became engaged to be married. As he started to rise, Richard held out a gold ring suspended from a long chain. The woman leaned over to allow him to place it around her neck and her long black hair fell forward. Mark gasped and Emily turned to look.

  “Look,” she said. “That’s so sweet. He’s giving Margaret Bowman a miniature of his class ring.”

  “You know her?”

  Emily nodded. “Went to high school together. That’s Richard Bailey. They’ve only been dating about a month. The guy moves fast when he finds what he wants.”

  Mark simply nodded, able to think of nothing to say. After a moment, he reached for his glass and raised it, turning back to his parents. “A toast. To Mom and Dad. It’s inspiring to see two people who love each other so much after thirty-eight years of marriage.”

  “Hear, hear.” Emily said. “May we all be as happy as they are.”

  While his parents kissed and Emily kissed her fiancé, Mark stole another look at Margaret Bowman. He wondered if she knew her ring had hung around another woman’s neck four short weeks before.

  Half an hour later, Mark stood in the lobby, having wished his parents well as they departed for their party. Emily and her fiancé had just left, and Mark was slipping on his overcoat, preparing to walk home.

  Richard and Margaret emerged from the restaurant. She pecked him on his cheek before heading down the hall toward the restroom.

  “Mark Stuart,” Richard exclaimed. “I hadn’t seen you in forever, but now, twice in in a month’s time.” Mark was watching Margaret, and Richard’s eyes followed his.

  “Margaret Bowman,” he said.

  “I know.” Mark said. “She’s a friend of my sister’s. We saw you giving her a necklace at dinner. Special girl?”

  “Very special…” Richard’s eyes dilated as he seemed to recall that Karen had been wearing the necklace when they had encountered Mark at the basketball game. He looked away for a moment. Then he cleared his throat.

  “I suppose you want to know what happened between me and Karen.”

  Mark wanted to know, but he shook his head. “It’s not any of my business.”

  Richard looked off to his left, in the direction in which Margaret had gone. Mark wondered if he was hoping she would reappear and deliver him from having to deliver the explanation he seemed to feel he owed Mark, or whether he was making certain she would not overhear it.

  “I don’t know how well you know Karen, but that woman is one deceptive witch.” He looked at Mark as if to gauge his reaction, but Mark simply raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  “Is she really?”

  “Damn straight. Beautiful face, damn sexy body, a major flirt, but underneath, that woman is as cold as ice.”

  Ice Queen.

  Richard hadn’t known. Mark wanted to laugh, but he controlled his reaction.

  Richard glanced around, but no one else was standing near them. “I have never, never, failed to hit a homerun,” he whispered.
/>
  Right.

  “I played kissy face with her for three months, but we were talking marriage and she was begging for a ring, and there was no way in hell I was going to be saddled with a woman who wouldn’t put out on demand.”

  Mark raised his eyebrows questioningly. Karen had told him the ring had been offered and she had refused it. Mark wanted to laugh, wondering how the story he was about to hear would compare to Karen’s version, though he never expected to hear her account.

  Richard seemed not to notice Mark’s reaction. He glanced down the hall that led to the restrooms. No one was coming.

  “About a month ago, right after we ran into you, I decided to give her one more chance. After a nice, romantic dinner we were sitting in her apartment, talking, sipping wine since she won’t touch the really good stuff, her dress open almost halfway and she was flirting like crazy, turning one way, then the other,” Richard turned his body to the left, then the right, imitating Karen, “leaning over, a glimpse here, another one there, playing peek-a-boo…I’d never seen the like of it.”

  “So, I leaned over and kissed her. I tell you, she wrapped her arms around my neck, plastered that hot little body of hers against mine…” He shook his head. “Just thinking about it…I kissed her again. And again. I broke it off to catch a breath, but she practically climbed into my lap, we were totally in sync, and I eased her back onto the couch…Well, I guess I pushed her a little, and I pinned her down.”

  Richard’s eyes sparkled. “Two more buttons popped open and her skirt slid up her leg.” He smirked. “I slipped my hand under her skirt, and I looked at where those two buttons had opened…” Richard’s eyes were wide. “The dress fit so snug I could see everything anyway, but would you believe the little vixen had gone commando underneath?”

  Mark stared at Richard. The man was a class act…and he was perspiring.

  Suddenly, Richard frowned as the excitement faded from his voice.

  “She was mumbling, ‘No. Richard, no.’” He paused, his eyes flicking to the right. “Women do that, you know. But what they mean is ‘No, don’t stop. No, don’t stop.’ Egging you on like crazy…They do,” he insisted.