by Sarah Title
“So are you a chef as well?” she asked. And do you have the recipe for this dip?
He laughed again. “No, no. I just recognize talent when I see it. Or when I taste it, I suppose.”
“Yeah, you do.” She put her hands on her lap, to keep herself from licking the bowl clean. Besides, she wanted to save her appetite for whatever Marco was going to send them next.
And for good table manners. Yes, manners. Dates. Manners. All of it.
God, that dip was good.
“So, you’re a librarian?”
“Yes, although I’m taking some time off at the moment.” Not by choice, she wanted to say. I’m on a colleague-ordered dating sabbatical.
“It’s always good to take a break,” he said. “Although I’m not very good at that.”
“I hear you’re a workaholic.”
“Guilty as charged. I was very interested to see this . . . project you’re working on. It was a reminder that I hadn’t had a break in . . . well, I don’t know how long.”
“Well, I’m glad I could help.”
Their waitress returned with two plates piled high with noodles. It smelled amazing. Bernie wanted to stick her face in it. As the waitress explained what everything was, Bernie half listened and half took a mental picture to tell Al about later. He would be very interested in this meal. Maddie would be very interested in the date.
So far she had only good things to report. He was a good conversationalist, like Parker, and she felt a little spark, like Alex. Part of her kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but as he told funny stories about traveling around the world, he didn’t once bring up his no-good exes or his mother, or anything else that set off red flags.
She looked through the plate-glass windows to try to catch Colin’s eye. He was still at their spot in the corner of the bar, chatting to the attractive woman next to him. Of course he was.
Well, if she was going to have a good date, she didn’t see why he couldn’t have fun.
Just then, Salvatore’s phone rang. “I’m so sorry, I thought I turned it off. Ah, this is work. I have to get it.”
“Go ahead. I’ll just hang out with the carrots.”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You’re funny. Don’t wait for me. Eat.”
She ate.
It was delicious.
To be honest, she was glad Salvatore wasn’t there to watch her slurp noodles into her mouth. Noodles were definitely not first-date food. But they were so, so good. Surely the gods of dating manners would understand. Maybe they were the ones who called Salvatore away so she could slurp in peace.
Unfortunately, they did not keep Colin away.
“Your boyfriend’s been gone awhile,” he said as he kept Salvatore’s seat warm.
“Shut up, I’m eating.”
“I figured out where I know him from.”
“Where?”
“Woody’s.”
“Woody’s? The crappy gay bar?”
She watched the smug smile spread over Colin’s face.
“What were you doing in a gay bar?”
“It’s my neighborhood dive. I go there all the time.”
“Well, maybe it’s Salvatore’s neighborhood bar.”
“Maybe. But how do you explain him sticking his tongue down another man’s throat?”
“Hmm. Maybe he’s bi.”
Colin shook his head. “You really do have an answer for everything.”
Bernie just shrugged. She didn’t care if he was bi. Hell, she didn’t care if he was gay at this point. She’d gladly be Salvatore’s beard if it meant she could eat here every night.
She saw, around Colin’s head, Salvatore working his way back through the tables. “He’s coming back,” she told Colin. “You should go.”
“Can I have a bite?”
“No.”
“Bring me leftovers?”
Bernie was starting to get nervous that Colin wouldn’t be gone by the time Salvatore got back. How would that look? Her date was only gone for a second, and Bernie had filled his seat with another man? That just seemed rude, even if the man was only Colin.
Except that Bernie saw Salvatore greeting people, taking a moment to chat. It really was taking him forever to get back to her. Colin could probably eat the rest of her entrée and order another one before her date returned.
Not that Bernie would share.
Then Salvatore sat down at one of the tables. That was cozy of him, she thought. So was the way he was passing food around. And spreading his napkin on his lap. And ordering a drink from the waitress.
“He’s not coming back, is he?” she asked Colin.
Colin turned. When he spotted Salvatore, he turned back to her.
“Can I have his dinner?”
“I should say I’m too upset to have an appetite, but this food is really really good.”
“Sorry we can’t say the same for the date.”
“I’m going to pretend he’s gay. That way it’s not my fault he wasn’t attracted to me.”
“That doesn’t explain his rudeness.”
“Yes. This does seem kind of pointless, doesn’t it?”
“Would it make you feel better if we ordered a whole bunch of food and ran up a huge bill?”
“You know, I think it would.” She smiled at Colin and picked up her menu.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dear Maria,
I’m nervous that my boyfriend is way out of my league. He’s so much smarter than I am, and he’s done so much more stuff. He’s traveled around the world and he knows all these cool bands. Sometimes it’s exhausting just keeping up. But I love him! How can I hold on to a guy like that?
Simpleton in Twin Peaks
Dear—I’m not going to call you Simpleton,
I’m just going to say this. If a guy makes you feel like you are less smart or less accomplished or less interesting than he is, you better run. He is not better than you; he just needs you to feel that way to make himself feel better. And those guys turn out to be serial killers.
Kisses,
Maria
“ALCATRAZ IS A NATIONAL RECREATION AREA.”
Bernie looked at Colin like he was crazy. He wasn’t. True, Alcatraz was a terrible place for a date. But Pia had given him a list of possibilities for today, and Alcatraz was the least likely to get Bernie to run off screaming. It was that or bungee jumping, and he didn’t think Bernie would let him take her anywhere near the Golden Gate Bridge again.
Besides, a tour of Alcatraz was educational. Bernie liked boring educational stuff. He’d thought she would probably find it totally romantic to learn stuff.
The look on her face told him otherwise.
That’s just her face, he reminded himself.
“So, what, we go for a hike?”
“It’s not that kind of place. You’re going to take the audio tour.”
“We can’t talk through an audio tour. Why couldn’t we just go to the movies?”
“You went to the movies last night.”
“Hmph.”
“And, as I recall, your date did talk through the entire thing.”
Bernie rolled her eyes. “Nothing makes a movie more fun than a guy whispering in your ear about how the main chick was so much hotter in the comic book.”
“See? This is way better. No chicks on Alcatraz.”
“Great.”
“And it’s educational. You like that, right?”
“I have been wanting to do this tour. . . .” Of course she had. And who was Colin to stand in the way of Bernie’s secret tourist dreams? First the Golden Gate Bridge, now this. Afterward, they could take a cable car along the Embarcadero and then drive up Lombard Street.
He took in the line of tourists, all decked out in shorts and San Francisco sweatshirts that they had to buy at the price-gouging tourist shops because June in San Francisco liked to trick tourists into thinking they weren’t in California at all.
Bernie stood out, if only because s
he was dressed for the weather (a cashmere sweater that made her eyes pop and a bold-printed scarf that had Makeda written all over it), and wasn’t wearing either a San Francisco sweatshirt or shivering in crazy high heels. He’d never noticed how many women wore heels in impractical situations before. Not until Bernie pointed it out, that is.
She was wearing her sensible clogs again, which Makeda had banned from use on dates; she’d even threatened to confiscate them. Colin had half a mind to send Makeda a picture, but since Bernie was following the other rules—well, her version of following the rules—he decided to let her off the hook.
Besides, they were going to a national recreation area. That called for sensible shoes. Or so he could imagine her arguing with him.
“I bet some of these people are on first dates,” he said, indicating the crowds lining up for the ferry.
She rolled her eyes. “At least it’s a nice day for a ferry ride.”
“See? A ferry ride. Totally romantic.”
“Yes, a ferry ride to a prison.”
“Hey, it’s also a designated historic landmark.”
She rolled her eyes again. At this rate, she was going to strain something.
“So who am I meeting today for this terrible date?”
He pulled up his phone and his List of Dudes, as Steph called it. He wasn’t crazy about carrying around a List of Dudes on his phone, but it was all in the service of professional development.
“Angus is a puppeteer,” he said, and watched her face for signs of approval or dis-. She seemed a little interested. “Not that a person should be defined by his job,” he added. She scowled at him. Hey, it wasn’t his fault she’d fallen into his trap.
Leave it to Bernie to be impressed with a puppeteer.
“He’s had several serious relationships and he says he’s always ready to fall in love. His interests are fighting for animal rights, puppets, and Shakespeare. I guess in that order.”
“Huh. Shakespeare.”
“I’m hoping he talks in rhyme.”
“I won’t be impressed unless it’s iambic pentameter.”
Ha ha. Smart people jokes.
“Is that him?” Bernie asked, pointing to a guy walking toward them. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt—not very impressive—and a hat. A knit hat. With ears.
“Oh, God, he’s dressed like a puppet,” he said.
“I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt,” she said. “Maybe that’s just the shape of his head.”
Colin looked at her, not believing what he was hearing. This girl would give even a weirdo a chance to adjust his first impression. Anyone but him.
“Hi!” Ear-hat man said when he got close. “I know that face!”
“Angus?”
“That’s me!”
“Hi. You can call me Bernie.”
“Oh, do I have to? Just kidding. Great name.”
“Great hat.”
“It’s not a hat. That’s just the shape of my head.”
Good God. They were perfect together.
“Why do you look so sad?” Angus asked Bernie.
“What? I’m not sad.”
“No, I mean in your picture.”
“Oh, geez. Nobody’s brought that up in a while. I had almost forgotten it even happened. Hey, thanks for bringing it up.”
“Don’t you worry. Angus is here to turn that frown upside down!”
Bernie didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. The way her eyes flew wide open told Colin that he was wrong, that she was not amused by Angus. There was hope for her yet.
“I promise you won’t be sad when Angus is around.” Angus and his hat stepped closer and put his arm around her. He licked his lips. She inched away.
“‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’” Angus asked, and Bernie looked as puzzled as Colin felt. This guy. Comedy whiplash.
“You call this summer?” Angus said, but it didn’t sound like Angus. Probably because his voice had gone all squeaky. Which could probably be explained by the fuzzy squirrel puppet he’d pulled out of his back pocket.
The guy kept a puppet in his pocket.
“Hey, Colin, remember we have that thing?”
Colin tore his gaze from the pocket puppet, which was now making kissy noises at Bernie. “What thing?”
“Oh, did you forget, too? Yeah, it’s really important. I can’t believe we forgot about it. I’m so sorry, Angus. We have to go.”
“You do?” the squirrel asked.
“I’m really sorry.”
“Yeah, I’m really sorry, man,” Colin told him. “And, uh, squirrel. It’s a really important thing.”
“Fine. If you want to be sad,” Angus said with an exaggerated frown.
“I don’t really want to be sad, but I think if I stay on this date and miss this thing, I will be sad.” Bernie took a step back into Colin. He took her arm. He wasn’t going to stop her if she bolted, but he wanted to be prepared to keep up.
“How about a kiss good-bye?” the squirrel squeaked.
“Absolutely not.”
“Fine. Maybe some other time.”
“Maybe.”
Angus turned and walked away. Before he had gone two steps, he turned back. “I should have known that someone who wears leather shoes would be a coldhearted snake. No offense to snakes.” Then he stepped away and, no joke, cartwheeled down the sidewalk.
“What . . . what was that?” Bernie asked.
Colin watched tourists stumble out of Angus’s way. “That was you blowing off a date.”
“These aren’t even real leather shoes. They’re vegan leather.”
“Of course they are.”
“I feel kind of bad. Do you think he knew I was lying?”
Colin thought about how to answer. Bernie’s face was not built for subterfuge, and there was no way that a person who had such an important “thing” couldn’t even remember what it was, let alone when it was.
But then, the guy had a squirrel puppet in his back pocket.
“I think you fooled him,” he told her.
“Can we still go to Alcatraz?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
AFTER MUCH DEBATE, and by debate he meant him reiterating the rules of their arrangement for the story and her pushing back on everything before he even finished saying it, Colin let Bernie pick the next date. They were halfway done with their thirty dates, and he was feeling magnanimous.
She wouldn’t tell him much about it, which made him nervous. But that was only because he had no trust in Bernie’s judgment about what was fun and romantic.
Of course, they hadn’t had much luck with more traditional fun and romantic dates, so maybe she was right that it was time to try something different. Just one date on my terms, she argued, then we can go back to your regular boring stuff.
He remembered her having fun on some of the dates, dammit. She smiled a lot with that guy at the Musée Mécanique, even though James was a total goofball. Knowing Bernie, she only liked James because he was exactly the person she wasn’t supposed to like. Colin couldn’t decide if she had strong principles or if she just lived to be contrary. She certainly seemed to like arguing with every single thing he said.
His Uber dropped him off at the address Bernie’d given him, which turned out to be a hole-in-the-wall performance space wedged between the dodgy end of the Mission District and Portrero Hill. It reminded him of the kinds of places he used to sneak into in high school, where he and his friends would see some post-punk rock show, then two or three years later, the band would be huge and have a hit on the soundtrack to a show on the CW. He hadn’t seen a place like this in a while. He felt a wave of nostalgia for the scrappy creativity that was the San Francisco of his youth.
Then someone muttered “sellout” and spit on the sidewalk in front of him. The guy was wearing an outfit that looked held together by safety pins. He had probably been at all those shows Colin and his friends went to. The difference was, Colin had moved on.
He ignored the guy, who was muttering and spitting his way down the sidewalk. So maybe the Safety Pin Superman wasn’t aiming at Colin. Maybe it was just a generalized anger brought on by speedy gentrification.
There were a few people milling about outside the theater, sucking down last-minute cigarettes and greeting each other wildly. He spotted Bernie walking toward the venue from the Muni stop. She smiled when she saw him. She actually looked happy.
Huh. All he had to do was let her get her way, and she was happy. Good to know.
She was wearing an oversized scarf wrapped around her neck, and her hands were shoved in her pockets out of the wind. She was wearing riding boots that went just about to her knees, and a skirt that did not. He took a moment to admire the majesty of Bernie’s legs.
“Hey,” she said, brushing her wind-blown hair out of her face.
“Hey,” he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Because he’d decided they kissed cheeks now. “You look good.” Because he’d decided he would tell her when she looked good.
“Thanks,” she said, sounding a little surprised. “So,” she said, looking around. “Where’s my guy?”
Phil Ulbrick was a dentist in the East Bay. He’d gone to art school first, though, so Colin thought he would be sufficiently weird for Bernie. Colin hadn’t seen him yet. Of course, he hadn’t looked very hard.
“Melissa?” A guy in a suit and the whitest teeth Colin had ever seen approached them.
“Phil?” When he nodded, Bernie stuck out her hand. “Call me Bernie.” She was smiling. She liked guys with teeth like this? “This is Colin from Glaze.” Colin shook Phil’s hand. “Thanks for setting this up, man,” Phil told him. Colin didn’t like this guy.
“Sure, no problem. See you guys later,” he said, then faded into the smoky background.
He strained to hear their conversation over the exclamations about hipster bands and such. “So, what are we going to see?” Phil asked.
“It’s a friend of mine. Her show is opening tonight,” Bernie explained. Colin got a bad feeling in his stomach. “It’s an exploration of the societal implications of rejecting conventional gender norms as told by a woman who escaped a polygamist cult.”
“Oh,” Phil said. Colin mentally slapped his head. He was never letting Bernie pick the date again.