by Cate Ashwood
He started to laugh. “Ash. As in Asher. Not Ashley.”
“Oh. Oh. I’m so sorry,” I apologized again. “I assumed… Well… I’m sorry.”
“What kind of person shows up after getting a wrong-number text?” Asher sounded dubious.
I snatched my phone back from him. “What kind of person doesn’t make sure their phone has adequate charge to get them through the day if they have plans to meet someone?”
Asher laughed again, his eyes crinkling in the corner. Any indignancy I’d built up vanished as the sound of his laughter washed over me.
“I messaged you back to let you know you’d gotten the wrong number, but I wasn’t sure it went through. I didn’t want whoever had sent it to be sitting alone at a bar waiting for someone who wasn’t coming, so I stopped in. I don’t live far from here.”
Asher smiled, his face softening. “That’s sweet, actually.”
“It was the right thing to do, but glad you think so.”
I put my phone back in my pocket and edged backward.
Asher looked at me. “Where are you going?”
“Home. I’ve done my good deed for the day.”
He extended his leg under the table and pushed the chair opposite out with his foot. “You’re here, and you saved me from getting stood up. The least I can do is buy you a drink.”
I hesitated, but it was my birthday after all.
“All right. Sure. A drink would be nice. Thank you.”
“You got it. What would you like?”
“What are you having?”
Asher tilted his glass so he could look inside, as though he’d forgotten what he’d ordered.
“I’m not sure, actually. I asked the bartender to give me whatever he made best, and this is it.”
“Is it good?”
Asher grinned. “Not bad.”
“Then I’ll have the same. Please.”
As Asher made his way to the bar, I wondered what had gotten into me. Was this some sort of bizarre midlife attempt to shake things up? Going out of my way to meet a stranger, spending time in a bar, ordering drinks I wasn’t familiar with—it wasn’t me. The rare time I went out with Calvin or some of the other professors from my department, I stuck to the classics—red wine or scotch—and was home by nine thirty.
“Here you go.” Asher returned, triumphantly holding two glasses. He placed one in front of me, then sat and took a sip of his.
“Thank you,” I said, eyeing the pale liquid with what appeared to be smashed-up herbs inside.
“It’s a ginger mint limeade. I asked this time.”
“Sounds… interesting.” Asher watched me as I took a sip. Flavor burst across my tongue, sweet and tangy with a hint of something sharp and refreshing. It was a complete departure from the deep flavors and earthy tones of wine and scotch. “I like it.”
“Good. So. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
“Oh! My apologies. I’m Henry. Henry Hathaway.”
“Nice to meet you, Henry.”
He flashed a smile at me. It made me strangely nervous. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“So, Henry, what do you do?”
The way he kept saying my name was distracting. My mind kept stumbling over the word, as though it sounded different coming from him and my brain was trying to reason exactly why.
“I teach psychology over at UW.”
Asher narrowed his eyes and grinned. “A psychologist, huh? Are you sitting there psychoanalyzing me? Trying to figure out what’s going on in my subconscious?”
I shook my head and laughed. Ninety percent of people asked that within the first five minutes. The joke had gotten old quickly, but coming from Asher, it was suddenly and inexplicably funny.
“No. I’m not a proponent of Freud, and I don’t teach that branch of psychology. Evolutionary psychology is my specialization.” He gave me a quizzical look. It was a familiar response when I told people the specifics of my field. “It’s the study of human evolution and how it relates to behavior.”
“Evolution affects our behavior?”
“In more ways than you might imagine,” I said. “Our society has evolved too quickly for our biology to have caught up, and so many behaviors that were adapted for survival have persisted.”
“That sounds incredibly interesting.” I was surprised he thought so. Most people’s eyes glazed over when I started talking about my work. He seemed genuinely interested. “Can everything be explained that way?”
“Not everything, no. Human nature is more complex than that, but a great deal of our behavior, particularly as it relates to interpersonal relationships can be attributed to throwbacks from our evolutionary adaptations. For example, take a look at that man and woman at the bar.” I tilted my head in that direction. “The way he’s postured himself, chest puffed out, shoulders back? Apes do the same thing when trying to attract a mate.”
Asher laughed loudly enough that the people occupying the table nearest to us turned to look at him.
“Evolutionary psychology would suggest he’s attracted to her, at least in part because facial symmetry, wide hips, large breasts, and youth imply reproductive fitness. Men are attracted to women they believe to be fertile.”
“Not all men,” Asher said, a teasing lilt in his voice.
“No,” I agreed, “not all men, but individuals who find those specific traits more attractive likely do so because of a relic in their genetic makeup.”
“I wonder how much of my behavior you could explain.” He held up his hands. “Never mind. I don’t think I want to know. Might ruin some of the mystery.”
I laughed. “Fair enough, but our adaptations go far beyond observable behaviors. For example, a man who perceives that his partner has been unfaithful will actually produce more ejaculate during sex in an attempt to ensure it’s his semen fertilizes her egg and his genes are carried forward.”
I met Asher’s eyes and realized instantly that I had gone too far. His expression was one of restrained amusement, whether over my bit of trivia or over my embarrassment, I wasn’t sure.
“That was… probably not appropriate talk over drinks at a bar,” I said, wanting to crawl under the table and die. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I get caught up and forget there are norms to be followed.” I was mortified and no doubt the redness in my cheeks was nearing nuclear stage at that point. All I could think to do was change the subject. “What do you do for work?”
There was laughter in his voice when he spoke. “I’m the program director at the community center on Brooklyn.”
“Oh, I know that place. I’ve never been in, but the building is beautiful. How long have you been doing that?”
“It is. It’s over a hundred years old, which means the plumbing leaves something to be desired, but they don’t build places like that anymore.” He sat up a little straighter. “The promotion to director was recent—less than a year ago, but I’ve worked at the center since I was a teenager.”
“That’s incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who has worked for the same employer their entire lives.”
Asher shrugged. “When something fits, it makes sense to stick with it. It’s about the only thing that’s stuck so far.”
“That’s a good point. None of the jobs I ever had before this suited me. I suppose I can’t imagine having stayed at one of them.”
“What’s the worst job you’ve had?” he asked.
“Ice cream shop,” I answered without hesitation, and Asher reacted with the same surprise the majority did when they found out I didn’t love working there. “Most people think it would be a fantastic job, and the free ice cream samples were great, but there was a uniform.”
Asher lifted one eyebrow, clearly waiting to be wowed with tales of my humiliation.
“It was an old-fashioned, themed ice cream parlor, so I had to wear this little hat and a bow tie.”
He grinned. “I can see you in a bow tie.”
Truth be told, I o
wned more than one. In the eternal words of The Doctor, “bow ties are cool.” But for some reason, I didn’t want Asher to know that. I downed the last of my drink, which was mostly melted ice now, but I was glad for the cold. I felt overheated, like someone had turned the thermostat up too high in a room far too crowded with people.
“The problem was, everyone saw me in it. I’d never been someone any of them were particularly nice to, but once one kid at school caught wind of the fact that I worked wearing a dorky uniform, it added fuel to the fire. Most of them flocked in so I could serve them.”
“They teased you about the bow tie?”
“Some did. Not everyone.” I played with the straw in my drink, pushing the crushed herbs around the otherwise empty glass. I didn’t know why I was telling him all this. I’d met him a matter of minutes ago. I didn’t know much about making new friends, but I knew enough to understand that unloading my childhood traumas on someone right after meeting them was generally considered a faux pas… right after talk of ejaculate levels.
“Kids can be pretty awful,” Asher said with such a depth of understanding in his voice that my gaze shot up and locked with his. A moment passed between us, charged with… something. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but then again, that wasn’t unusual for me. Reading social cues was not my strong suit.
“You want another drink?” Asher asked, gesturing toward my empty glass.
I shook my head. “No, I think I’m all right.”
He paused and my skin felt prickly.
“You wanna get out of here, then?” Asher asked. “Find something a little less… space station chic? This place isn’t really my style.”
I laughed. “This was supposed to be a first date. Wouldn’t you pick a place you liked for a first date?”
“I’ve never been here before… thought I’d try something new. I don’t do repeats.”
“You don’t do repeats.” I was having a hard time wrapping my routine-loving mind around that one.
“Nope. Not typically. So, what do you say? Should we go?”
I let out a breath. “Yeah.” I sounded too eager, but Asher didn’t seem to notice. I was so bad at this. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d made a friend—at least a friend I didn’t work with. Work friends were easier. There was common ground and always something to talk about. If the conversation ran dry on other topics, work-related subject matter was always a safe bet, and so awkward silences were few and far between.
These were uncharted waters for me. The longer I sat there, the more convinced I was that Calvin was right. I needed to get out more, whether romantically or platonically. In theory, I understood the mechanics of this, but theory and practice were two very different things.
We left the bar and walked out onto the street. The air had cooled since evening fell, providing relief from the heat of summer.
“Looks like you were right about those two,” Asher said, grinning wide.
I turned to see what he was referring to and saw the couple we’d observed in the bar earlier walk out and climb into a taxi together. “Can’t argue with biological drive.”
“Guess you can’t.” We watched them speed off before Asher turned back to face me. “Is there anywhere in particular you wanna go?”
I thought for a second but came up blank. “You probably have a better idea than I do of what’s good around here. Some of the other profs go to a pub near the university every once in a while for drinks, but beyond that, I’m not sure.”
“Any objections to trying something new?”
Oh god. I hated trying new things. At thirty-two years old, it had taken me this long to find things I liked, and once something fit, I saw no reason to change.
The pub off campus had the steak sandwich I liked best and the good wine to go with it. There was no need to go elsewhere. I was comfortable with the faded blue fabric of the seats and matte black tabletops. I liked that the music wasn’t too loud and the servers knew my order.
The kiosk near my office on campus was where I liked to buy my tea on the way to class in the morning. They had the creamy Earl Grey blend I preferred and served it at the perfect temperature.
Any attempt I had ever made to deviate from the places and routines I found most appealing had always been met with disappointment. The steak sandwich at the diner near my brother’s house was tasteless and overcooked. The tea from the café near Green Lake was too hot and the flavor was bitter.
Tried and tested was safe, comfortable, and stepping away from that always made me a little nervous.
I hesitated.
“Come on. It’ll be fun. When’s the last time you did something spontaneous?”
Never. That’s when. Spontaneous wasn’t in my nature. In fact, it went against everything I stood for, but the way Asher was looking at me, so expectantly, had me opening my mouth before actually formulating a coherent response.
“Sure. Yeah, okay.”
Asher laughed. “Is that a yes? You don’t sound so sure.”
I chuckled. “It’s a yes. Something new sounds like fun. Where are we going?’
Asher shrugged and grinned mischievously at me. “No idea. You got a quarter?”
I seriously hoped I wasn’t going to regret this.
“Heads we go right, tails we go left,” Asher said as he flicked the coin I’d given him into the air. It landed in the center of his palm, and he flipped it over onto the back of his hand before revealing it to me. “Heads.”
“Right it is.”
We turned, walking past the bar, past the yoga studio, past the dry cleaners on the corner. I had no idea where we were heading, and apparently neither did Asher. At random intersections, he’d stop and flip a coin, and the result would dictate which direction we proceeded.
Chatting as we walked, we made our way out of the bubble near the university that I knew so well. My favorite bookstore, the best Thai food in the city, my go-to place for office supplies were all behind us.
“Do you know where we are?” I asked, starting to feel a little uneasy. I looked over at Asher, who didn’t seem fazed in the least. I forced myself to relax. It’s not like we were venturing off into the great unknown. We were probably only seven or eight blocks from where we’d started out—hardly foreign territory.
“Nope. Not a clue.” He stopped short in the middle of the sidewalk and turned his head to the left. “Do you hear music?”
I paused to listen for a moment. A melody, barely distinguishable from the sounds of traffic, floated over to us from somewhere in the distance. It was difficult to hear, but the more I strained to listen, the clearer it became. “I think so.”
“Let’s go.” There was a challenge and excitement in his eyes, and it was contagious. I wanted to know where the music was coming from as much as he did. We followed the music, and soon a row of white tents came into view. Colorful lights and multicolored pennants were strung between each peak.
“Is it some sort of street fair?” I asked.
“I think so. You wanna check it out?”
“Sure.”
My agreement was awarded with Asher’s expression melting into one of unadulterated excitement. He looked like Calvin when Santa had brought him a Game Boy.
Asher picked up the pace, and I had to jog for a few seconds to catch up.
“God, I love street fairs and farmer’s markets,” he said as I fell in beside him. “My mom used to take me all the time when I was a kid. I always came home with the most random crap. I’m pretty sure she kept a box and would eventually end up donating all the stuff I found, but they felt like treasures when I was eight.”
He made it sound almost magical. My experience with them had been slightly less charmed.
“I’ve only been to one. I was out with my brother once and we happened upon what we thought was a street fair. He insisted on going, but it turned out to be a collection of tents where people were selling stolen cell phones and bootlegged DVDs. I’m pretty sure they were als
o selling heroin, but I can’t be certain.”
Asher chuckled. “Let’s hope this one is a little more aboveboard.”
The street had been closed, and from the looks of it, the market went on for several blocks. There were people everywhere, milling through the different stands. The booth nearest to us was selling flowers. A huge display was set up at the front of the tent, the colors vibrant, and the scent filled the air.
We continued walking considerably slower. Even within the first few feet there was so much to see that if we didn’t take our time, we’d miss something.
“I think this is the U District Night Market,” Asher said pensively. “I heard about this from a couple of people at work. They came last week and said it was amazing. It’s on all summer.”
I was surprised to hear we were still in the University District. I’d never been this far south beyond campus before. The area was more industrial—towing yards and warehouses—but I could smell the water. I had no idea this was here. I’d never even heard of it.
“Okay, yeah, this is nothing like the one I found with Calvin.”
“Calvin’s your brother?” Asher asked.
“Yep.”
“And it’s just the two of you?”
“Yeah. I think my dad wanted more children, but when my mom realized what an unholy terror my brother was, those plans quickly changed.”
Asher laughed, but I wasn’t joking. Calvin had been a royal pain in the ass when he was younger. At one point, I’d overheard my mom telling my aunt she was thinking of sending him off to school somewhere. I’d begged her to let him stay. I was never certain if she had been serious, but I know she had a hard time with him all throughout his childhood.
“Do you have siblings?” I asked.
“I have two half brothers and a half sister, but they’re quite a bit younger and they live in California, so I don’t see them very often.”
“Your parents are divorced?”
“They were never married. My dad stuck around for a few years after I was born, but in the end, he and my mom were better off as friends. It was an amicable separation—I had it a lot better than some kids.”