The Elephant in the Diner

“Who in her right mind would want another date with you?” That was Donna DiFranco over the phone. She sounded angry. But wasn’t her voice strained, too emotional to be dismissive?

“That was a long time ago,” I replied. “I was stupid. And lonely. Okay: not just lonely, needy. Doesn’t some kind of statute of limitations apply?”

I could picture her rolling her big dark eyes--or, the ultimate turn-off, shaking the black curls on her head to clear it. “Bzzz. Time’s up. Thank you for playing our game, Boss.”

“I haven’t been your boss for four years, Donna. I certainly couldn’t ask for more than friendship when you reported to me. And I was married. After you left the company, and I got divorced, the boss thing still made me uncomfortable when we met in that diner two years ago. I still didn’t know if I could count on that wise-guy attitude of yours to equalize us.

“Don’t call me a wise guy. I’m independent—especially of jerks like you.”

“Ow. But—”

“Come on, Boss. Get to it. Why are you calling me now, after two more years have gone by?”

“After that fiasco in the diner, in the waiting room, I started dating another woman. My divorce attorney, actually. She was wonderful—full of humor, always aglow when she wasn’t in the courtroom, appreciating life and every attempt of mine to please her. She was her own woman, too—never took an unkind word from anyone without standing her ground. She was a lot like you.”

“Was?”

“Yeah, she died six months ago.”

“That’s terrible. I’m really sorry, but what do you want from me? You want us to start up again now that we’re old and gray?”

“Hey! Speak for yourself, DiFranco. I may have put on some years, but I’m holding up. How about you—still running and biking—and slender?”

“Yeah, sure. And gray. And still repelled by the way you took my greeting at that diner.”

“Greeting? Oh, you mean that kiss?”

“You ask me out, it’s clearly a date, you write me a note in advance about how your feelings for me are changing. All this after one of the last stories you told us at work was about meeting that friend of yours from high school at your thirtieth reunion, the pretty one you never had the courage to date. How you dithered about whether to give her a kiss or not, how you got your courage up to do it, and how it blew her away…”

“Yeah, but it didn’t blow me away. It was too planned. A kiss doesn’t work as an, um, dating kiss unless it grows from what comes before. You know, the back-and-forth, the feelings, the looks in each other’s eyes—the touches, for Pete’s sake. Planning it spoiled the whole thing for me. And I was too slow to figure that out. I even kissed her a couple more times to try to get into it. But I never could. Or follow up with her. And it—well, it kind of broke her heart.”

“Now you tell me!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to turn you off. Or hurt your feelings.”

“Then why did you change the subject immediately, and tell me you wanted to catch up on the news?”

“I wasn’t ready for you. I’m slow. For ages—well, for five years, I respected you and loved the way you dealt so easily with our crazy secretary—and our crazy boss—the way you mocked them. You laughed in their faces--and you got away with it!”

She chuckled. “Dolores? And Alan? Laughing was the only way to cope with those nuts. Didn’t you ever get that?”

“No. I was too, uh, too reactive, too scared about keeping my job.”

“But you weren’t too scared to ask me out.”

“No. Of course not. I wanted to grow something with you.”

“You idiot. Couldn’t you see how I felt about you? I thought Dolores would have whispered in your ear. She certainly scolded me about how m.a.r.r.i.e.d. you were until a few months before you went away for that class reunion.”

“You liked me?”

“How many times do I have to say it?”

“So, when you kissed me…”

“I thought it was what you were waiting for.”

“So, I blew it?”

“Big time.”

“What if I tried again?”

 “What if it’s too late? What if I’d say you were messing with an attached woman? In a committed relationship?”

A flame grew in my chest. I gripped the phone tightly and held the microphone to my mouth. My voice tightened so much I had to whisper. “I’d say I don’t care. I’d say life is too short. I’d say I couldn’t stand the thought of blowing it with you again. I’d say I still want you, want all that big-hearted humor and poise and affection, and…”

“And sex? Remember, I’m still catholic.”

“And seeing your big brown eyes playing with me. And watching your shapely little caboose when you’d walk out of my office.” 

She scoffed. “Little. Like my flat chest.”

“Donna, there’s more to a woman than her chest.”

She hmphed. “Tell that to your half of the human race. They look from my face to my chest. And lose their smiles. And walk away.”

“So, you’re not attached?”

She laughed. “That’s your take-away? I tell you about my totsl failure to attract a man, and you’re glad?”

I scoffed. “What? Did you think I was deep? Haven’t you heard the word on the street? Men are shallow. I’m not claiming an exemption. I’m only claiming that I can learn. Come on, Donna. Let me buy you lunch. I promise not to ask for news.”

She sighed. “Oh, all right. But no kisses.”

“There will be kisses when the eyes tell each other that a kiss is wanted. And not before. I promise.”

“Oh, you think they’ll do that, do you?”

“I do. Oops, wrong phrase for this early in the game, isn’t it? Sorry.”

“Game?”

“Another wrong term.  But isn’t it best to treat life like a game? Give me another chance at bat, Donna. No, give me a whole inning. I’m slow.

“You haven’t scored yet, you have no hits, and I can’t count how many errors you’ve made, buster.”

“Buster is a term I’ll take. It beats boss any day. How’s Saturday for lunch?”

There was a pause at the other end of the phone. About the time I couldn't stand it any longer, she said, “Tomorrow’s Friday. How about Friday?”