that.
“Mind if I ask you what you do?” she said, at least asking permission of sorts before going there.
“I work for the government,” he replied, hoping that would be enough but suspecting it wouldn’t. She paused for a moment.
“That’s OK,” she said, “I can take a hint. I’ll respect your privacy.”
At least she’s got class , he thought. He knew he had to have at least ten years on her and he reminded himself that no one would likely confuse him with Brad Pitt. So why are we still sitting here having this conversation? he wondered to himself. He didn’t want to admit to himself that at this point his little head had started doing more of the talking . . . and thinking.
“A silver dollar for your thoughts,” she said.
“At least you’re not cheap,” he chuckled. After pausing for a moment, he replied: “O.K. I won’t lie to you. I know I’m not too bad looking, but I’ve been around enough blocks to know I’m not exactly in your league. So I find myself wondering why we’re sitting here.” The truth or consequences m o ment had arrived. He didn’t know if he was ready for it.
“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. I happen to think you’re very interesting or I wouldn’t have wandered over here,” she said .
O.K. so it’s the consequences moment, his big head thought to itself. But his little head wasn’t giving up. Sometimes people are just attracted to each other. It sounded hollow, but his little head was trying hard to sell it. And his big head wasn’t trying hard enough not to buy.
Noticing his turmoil, she tried to come to the rescue. “The side of me that loves poetry tells me sometimes that I shouldn’t always look for motives in everything, that my negative side tends to demean things.”
She is good, he thought to himself. Very good. But his big head had recovered slightly. Maybe the booze is wearing off. Just when he thought it had things under control, the question popped out.
“If you don’t have any plans for dinner Friday night . . . ” he began. Damn it, man, sometimes you do the dumbest things, he thought, managing to keep the smile on his face while he kicked himself.
“I would enjoy that very much,” she finished the sentence.
They chatted for several more minutes, during which time he managed not to sink any deeper into the fool’s role and actually sounded a bit suave, he thought. Finally, after a pause in the conversation he said:
“I assume your boyfriend didn’t bother leaving you the car, do you need a lift home?”
“It’s aways and I don’t want to put you out,” she replied.
“No bother,” he said, reaching for her coat.
It had turned chilly outside and he pulled his top coat together at the neck. Then he felt her take his arm. It felt good, real good, and he didn’t bother asking his big head what it thought.
As the Lincoln turned out of the parking lot and headed east, he noticed a car parked down the street with two men sitting in it. As he passed by, he glanced over; neither was her boyfriend. Molly reached over and turned on the radio; then she leaned back against the headrest and began to hum softly to the music. Her voice was sweet.
He was already starting to get used to being with her, but the air in the parking lot had been cold enough to put his little head in its place for the moment, and he was now thinking with the other one.
A beautiful woman just happens into a bar where I seldom drink, she and her boyfriend have an argument and she ends up alone and at my table being very, very friendly. Coincidence? Perhaps, but the liquor had worn off and something didn’t feel right.
“Where you from, Molly?” he tried to ask casually. She seemed to sense that the mood had changed but didn’t want to go in that direction.
“ Boston ,” she replied sweetly.
He laughed. “You do sound like Boston ,” he said, trying to continue to
“Mind if I ask you what you do?” she said, at least asking permission of sorts before going there.
“I work for the government,” he replied, hoping that would be enough but suspecting it wouldn’t. She paused for a moment.
“That’s OK,” she said, “I can take a hint. I’ll respect your privacy.”
At least she’s got class , he thought. He knew he had to have at least ten years on her and he reminded himself that no one would likely confuse him with Brad Pitt. So why are we still sitting here having this conversation? he wondered to himself. He didn’t want to admit to himself that at this point his little head had started doing more of the talking . . . and thinking.
“A silver dollar for your thoughts,” she said.
“At least you’re not cheap,” he chuckled. After pausing for a moment, he replied: “O.K. I won’t lie to you. I know I’m not too bad looking, but I’ve been around enough blocks to know I’m not exactly in your league. So I find myself wondering why we’re sitting here.” The truth or consequences m o ment had arrived. He didn’t know if he was ready for it.
“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. I happen to think you’re very interesting or I wouldn’t have wandered over here,” she said .
O.K. so it’s the consequences moment, his big head thought to itself. But his little head wasn’t giving up. Sometimes people are just attracted to each other. It sounded hollow, but his little head was trying hard to sell it. And his big head wasn’t trying hard enough not to buy.
Noticing his turmoil, she tried to come to the rescue. “The side of me that loves poetry tells me sometimes that I shouldn’t always look for motives in everything, that my negative side tends to demean things.”
She is good, he thought to himself. Very good. But his big head had recovered slightly. Maybe the booze is wearing off. Just when he thought it had things under control, the question popped out.
“If you don’t have any plans for dinner Friday night . . . ” he began. Damn it, man, sometimes you do the dumbest things, he thought, managing to keep the smile on his face while he kicked himself.
“I would enjoy that very much,” she finished the sentence.
They chatted for several more minutes, during which time he managed not to sink any deeper into the fool’s role and actually sounded a bit suave, he thought. Finally, after a pause in the conversation he said:
“I assume your boyfriend didn’t bother leaving you the car, do you need a lift home?”
“It’s aways and I don’t want to put you out,” she replied.
“No bother,” he said, reaching for her coat.
It had turned chilly outside and he pulled his top coat together at the neck. Then he felt her take his arm. It felt good, real good, and he didn’t bother asking his big head what it thought.
As the Lincoln turned out of the parking lot and headed east, he noticed a car parked down the street with two men sitting in it. As he passed by, he glanced over; neither was her boyfriend. Molly reached over and turned on the radio; then she leaned back against the headrest and began to hum softly to the music. Her voice was sweet.
He was already starting to get used to being with her, but the air in the parking lot had been cold enough to put his little head in its place for the moment, and he was now thinking with the other one.
A beautiful woman just happens into a bar where I seldom drink, she and her boyfriend have an argument and she ends up alone and at my table being very, very friendly. Coincidence? Perhaps, but the liquor had worn off and something didn’t feel right.
“Where you from, Molly?” he tried to ask casually. She seemed to sense that the mood had changed but didn’t want to go in that direction.
“ Boston ,” she replied sweetly.
He laughed. “You do sound like Boston ,” he said, trying to continue to
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