“Hmm,” he snickers. “I’m not Jewish; I’m Catholic…and German, so after listening in on some of your grandmother’s story, I’m not sure that’s what you want to hear.” He glances over at me with a quick wink, but his words settle in my head. It’s 2017. Religion and origin shouldn’t determine who we choose to spend our lives with now. Mike is Jewish, and considering how that relationship went, I can honestly say religion will not be the deciding factor in who I end upwith.
“I was kidding,” I tell him. “It’s not something I’m concerned about, but my mother can be a little over the top sometimes.” I laugh quietly, hoping to defuse some of the awkwardness Icreated.
“Actually, your grandmother already knows, and it didn’t seem as though she cared.” With a soft snicker, he squints one eye and leans away from me as if I'd punch him or something, which I briefly consider doing as I remember how this all came together today. “Don’t forget, we shouldn't speak ill of the ill.” His words remind me that I should be nice regardless of this little setup between him and Grams.He did save Grams’s lifetoday.
“Okay, I'll pretend like we werebothblindsided by the guilt trip of us going out together.” I press my lips into a straight line, trying my best not to smile, but it’s hard to avoid while looking at him. “So, where to, PrinceCharming?”
“I am kind of charming, aren'tI?”
“Youarekind of charming.” I'll give him thatmuch.
“Well, since I know almost nothing about you, are you the wine and dine type of woman or do you prefer something a little lighter andfun?”
I run my fingertips up and down the smooth leather seat cushioning my legs as I think about his question.What am I?I guess I’m a workaholic that doesn't fit into either category. “I like to experience life, but I don't have the opportunity to do so as often as I'dlike.”
“Not that you've answered my question, but you have me wondering why a person couldn't enjoy life as much as she would liketo?”
“I work a lot,” I tell him. “I'm also alone a lot and sometimes forget to eat, never mind exploring the big world outthere.”
“So, how do you know you like to experience life?” He has a validpoint.
“I guess it was more of a wish than an answer to your question. I’ll go with fun. As much as I enjoy wine and food, fun sounds bettertonight.”
“My kinda girl,” he mutters as he takes a sharp turn into a different direction. I guess he had me pinpointed as a wine and dine kind ofgirl.
How did today end up like this? Never in a million years would I have expected to be out on a date with a different man tonight, let alone a great guy. Mom has always told me I give off an uninterested vibe to people, like I'd rather not meet anyone new or interact with those I don't know. I've never tried to be that way, but I'm unintentionally quiet because I like to observe. It's the artist in me, I suppose, plus there’s the whole six-year relationship part I had been dealingwith.
As we drive through the city, the street lights and painted lines on the road seem to have a hypnotic effect on me, and I feel unusually relaxed for the first time all day. I gaze out the window at the rain cascading down the glass in a solid sheet of water, lost in thought about Grams and her past. I hope she told that soldier—Charlie—to take a hike. It didn't seem like she was interested in his story, even though it was about him being forced into his position. He was probably up to something. Maybe she keeps calling out his name because she wants revenge on him for being one of the bad soldiers.I would. I could imagine it haunting me until my dying day. “Beer or wine?” Jackson interrupts my scatteredthoughts.
“Beer,” I tell him, turning back in hisdirection.
He looks impressed as his lips purse together. “Light ordark?”
“Dark,” I answer without thinking. “I'm not a big fan of IPAs, and I like the smokyhops.”
“Okay, you might be a little too perfect for me, so I'm not sure this is going to work out,” he says with a sigh that oozessarcasm.
We pull into a parking lot beneath a glowing sign with a spinning bowling ball. As Jackson puts the car in park, the rain stops abruptly, as if someone were shutting off a faucet. I can even see a few stars poking out from behind some thick clouds. “Perfecttiming.”
I let myself out even though he was heading around the back of his car toward my door. “I just have to grab my purse out of my bag.” I pull my seat up and lean into the back where my bag is, grab my small leather satchel, and pull it over my head as it falls diagonally across mybody.
We walk side by side around to the front of the building and in through the entrance, greeted by dance music, hundreds of large screen TVs, and more glowinglights.
“What size shoe do you wear?” heasks.
“Seven,” I tell him. “Andyou?”
“I'll get them, don't worry.” I was trying to be funny, and he's either playing back or taking this date veryseriously.
“What size can I get you?” the balding man with a silky, pink button-down shirt asks from behind thecounter.
“A seven for her and an eleven for me,” he says. “We'll do tworounds.”
“Here,” I offer, handing him somecash.
“Cut it out.” He pushes my hand away. “I was in on the guilt trip with your grandmother, so I'll pay theconsequence.”
“Consequence?” I snap with asmile.
