Chance encounters

Jack couldn't remember the last time he'd really enjoyed himself on a first date. After a bad string of awkward encounters, he'd actually wondered how he still had the energy to put himself out there at all anymore. Much less in a blind-date situation, in any case. "Oh well," he thought to himself as he straightened his bow-tie and took one last look in the mirror. Valentine's day was fast approaching and Jack was determined that he wouldn't spend another year alone watching planes pass and cooking dinner for his black domestic cat, Moo. Although he did love his somewhat quiet little life, it had been a while that he had been longing for the joy of sharing the simplicities of everyday life with. From finding pictures forming in the froth of his morning coffee to the curiosity of observing strangers in public, Jack ached for the company of another.

Dressing for the occasion, he had put on his favourite red button-up shirt, black slacks and brown dress shoes. He had even made sure that his pocket hanky matched the dark colour hue of his glasses and that his shoes were satisfactorily shiny. Jack wasn't an unattractive young man by any means, but perhaps old-fashioned values and an inclination for nostalgic romance brewed the perfect formula for being unlucky in love. He had even bought a humble bouquet of dried flowers for the event of a first blind date, after all.

Satisfied with what he had put together in front of the mirror, Jack gave an affectionate farewell to Moo and left his small apartment to start towards the train. The restaurant he had booked wasn't too far, maybe five stops away, as his best friend who had set up the rendezvous let him know that his would-be date had also lived close by. The short train ride left Jack feeling quite whimsical as he received tender looks from fellow travellers observing the young man all dressed up in red and holding a bouquet for some very lucky lady. It was the small moments like that which had Jack still believing in the charm of romanticising every experience he encountered. Soon enough, his stop had come and the rosebush arches of the quaint little Italian restaurant greeted him with a pleasant wave in the wind. The restaurant had both tables inside and out and Jack was grateful he had requested for the latter as the cobblestone courtyard was drenched in warm afternoon light.

Happy couples shared extravagant charcuterie boards and cheered to happy futures. Bees and butterflies decorated the flower bushes as if they were hired actors. Even the birds seemed to be in couples, flitting from tree to tree with voices singing out their very own love songs. Jack couldn't help but have a good feeling about today. With polite thanks to the short, blonde-bobbed waitress, he found himself seated across from two empty wine glasses in the very corner of the courtyard. The server offered to pour his glass, but of course, Jack would wait for his date to arrive first. He was very excited to put his best foot forward today and any slip-ups on his part would be unacceptable. He closed his eyes, let the sunlight soak his skin and mused about the potential opening lines he could use as soon as his date would arrive.

Five minutes passed by quickly. The next ten much slower. Whilst Jack was never an antsy person at heart, he gave his pocket book a quick peruse to make sure he had gotten the time and date correct. He had, but another five minutes passed deemed another triple-check. He eyed the cooled wine now submerged in quickly melting ice and glanced at the seemingly happy patrons around him. They were lost in their own worlds, surely. However, as one often does feel in these situations, Jack could almost see the reflection of the spotlight highlighting his misfortune saying, "Look, everyone! Check out this guy, stood up on his very first blind date!"

After thirty minutes, Jack decided he would accept the fact that his date would not be coming. Defeated, he didn't want his disappointment to ooze and perhaps stain the experiences of those enjoying their afternoons around him. Pocketing his stopwatch and making sure to leave enough money for the wine and a handsome tip, Jack stood up to leave.

"Excuse me, gentleman with the glasses," rang out a soft, sing song voice from beside him. Jack turned to see an elderly lady with greyed hair and a kind face seated by herself at one of the garden chairs nearby. Everyone here had seemed to be member of some visiting party, so he was surprised he hadn't noticed the solitary lady upon arrival. She was quite small, had lovely features and wore a long white dress with a pink woollen shawl. In front of her sat a tea set and two uneaten dishes.

"Would you sit with me, dear, and enjoy this pleasant afternoon?"

"Thank you, Madam," Jack replied, a little bit taken aback, "are you not expecting company?" He gestured towards the plate sat opposite of her, filled with spaghetti and red sauce, and she smiled back at him warmly.

"My name is Muriel, and I would love for you to join me today. It would be a spoil to waste these plates."

Taking his flowers with him, Jack introduced himself to Muriel and accepted the invitation to sit down. He supposed that perhaps he was not the only victim of finicky lunch guests that day.

"Thank you for sharing your table with me, Muriel. These flowers happen to match your shawl sublimely." He handed her the bouquet and she smiled gleefully with a neat set of white teeth.

"It has been a very long time since anyone gifted me anything of the sought." Jack thought he saw her misty eyes well slightly. "Once a month I come here to enjoy the sights and sounds and to remember my husband, Hubert, who passed away two years ago now. He loved Italian spaghetti. It was here that he proposed." Muriel's tone was not sad, but perhaps melancholic, as if it were only fond memories that she thought of.

"I'm very sorry to hear that." Jack swallowed. "This is a very special place to you. I'm regretful to have intruded on your date.

"Don't be silly, young man. As I said, these plates are not to be spoiled today. Besides, one can never underestimate the value of sharing their good company with another."

Before long, the two were seen chortling over warmed wine, red-sauce spaghetti and frosted pastries. They exchanged stories of failed meetings and passing planes and one black domestic cat named Moo.

They reminisced and they laughed until the sun had passed and the butterflies had flown home. Jack decided that he had spent so much time idolising the story of romance, he had forgotten how good it could be for a chance encounter to result in unlikely friendship. It was soon after that Jack and Muriel would decide to meet here again, a month from now, to muse over old memories and new memories and ultimately enjoy each other's company.

And for the first time in a long time, Jack realised had never enjoyed himself this much on an first, albeit unexpected, blind date.