The First Meeting

The First Meeting

New York City - 1975

“Here we are, miss,” the cab driver said, pulling up in front of Chez Monique.

This wasn’t what I expected, Beth thought.

In her mind a “Chez” anything connotated dim lights, candles flickering on tables, and waiters in long white aprons drifting noiselessly between tables. Instead, this restaurant in the heart of New York’s financial district, the all-encompassing “Wall Street,” looked like a high school cafeteria. Bright fluorescent lights beamed down from the ceiling, and waitresses scurried around like mice in a maze, frequently yelling some greeting or order over the diners’ heads in the packed dining room.

The bar was equally mobbed with dark-suited men in crisp white shirs and striped ties yelling comments along its length, or to the customers at a table.

Beth scanned the criwded room, but didn’t see Tom, her lunch date. She also didn’t see more than a handful of women, also dressed in dark suits and white blouses. The place was a sea of men.

At least I don’t think he’s here. These men all look like carbon copies of each other. I’m glad I wore a conservative business suit today, and not just a skirt and blouse. At least I look like I belong here, I hope.

She had only met Tom the night before and hoped the amount of booze she had consumed hadn’t obliterated her memory of what he looked like.

Oh well, considering the scarcity of women here, he can find me a lot more easily than I can find him. Guess I’ll wait at the bar and have a drink.

“Here, take my seat,” one of the blue-suited men at the end of the bar said, jumping up and offering her the now vacant bar stool.

“Take mine. It has a better view of the room,” another man said, now standing behind an empty seat.

“Thank,” Beth said, “but that’s okay, I’d actually prefer to stand.”

“Well, I’m not going to sit while a lady stands,” the first gentleman said.

“Neither am I,” his drinking buddy said.

“I suggest you sit,” a grey-haired man whispered in her ear. “Otherwise, you’ll soon have the whole bar standing to prove they’re all gentlemen.”

“Oh,” Beth said, “well, I wouldn’t want that.” She slid onto one of the empty stools and thanked the businessman, now almost standing at attention by her side.

“Hey, Jack,” he called to the bartender, “a little service here for the lady.”

Beth reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. As she opened it, the bartender’s long lean fingers engulfed hers and gave them a squeeze.

“Your money’s no good here,” he said. “What can I get you?”

Beth looked up into a pair of navy-blue eyes set in the most handsome face she had ever seen. She stared at him, mesmerized, as a smile crept across and lit up his face. He squeezed her hand again and she thought, This is the man I’m going to marry.

“A drink?” he asked again, “or are you just sightseeing?”

“No, no. I mean yes. Um, yes, I‘d like a drink.” Beth’s face flushed red as she stumbled through the sentence.

“Good. We got that part settled,” Jack said, his eyes twinkling. “Now, do you want me to guess what you’d like, or would you prefer to tell me? He gave her hand another squeeze and Beth realized everyone surrounding her had stopped talking and was listening to their banal banter.

“Wild Turkey, on the rocks, if you have it. With a splash of water.”

“Of course, we have it. This is a full-service saloon.”

Jack walked away to mix her drink and Beth wondered why the thought of marrying him had even entered her mind. She didn’t believe in love at first sight. That was a ridiculous notion in sappy romance novels. The kind she never read. Besides, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to get married. She was having too much fun as a young, single woman in New York City.

When Jack returned with her drink a few minutes later, she had pulled herself together and was able to thank him without making a fool of herself, like some silly infatuated high school girl.

“I’m Bob,” the man whose seat she had taken said. “What bring you to this place? New on Wall Street?”

“No, actually I work midtown. I’m meeting someone for lunch.”

“And he’s late. He obviously doesn’t know how to treat a lady.” Bob said, grinning down at her. “Who is this jerk?”

“Tom Kelly.”

That brought a round of jeers and remarks from the men who surrounded her.

“Should have guessed.”

“He always manages to get the pretty ones.”

“He certainly doesn’t deserve them.

“He should be flogged with a wet noodle.”

The men went on letting Beth know she could do much better with any of them than that “bum, Tom.” Just as she began to doubt the wisdom of accepting Tom’s lunch invitation, the front door opened and Tom swept into the room, greeted by many of the customers.

One look at him and she was glad she had agreed to lunch. He looked just as handsome in daylight as he had last night through the dim lights and alcoholic haze of the bar where she and her girlfriend had met him.

The men who surrounded Beth now seemed to feel it was their duty to safeguard her from this rude intruder and lambasted him with insults for keeping a lovely lady waiting.

“I know, I know, forgive me. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa,” Tom said, beating his chest three times. He leaned over and gave Beth a kiss on the cheek. “My meeting ran long. Am I forgiven?”

“I guess so,” Beth said. “These gentlemen have ben entertaining me with your exploits and telling me how much better off I’d be with any one of them.”

“You don’t really believe these old goats, do you?” Tom asked, winking.

Beth rubbed her chin and raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Let’s say, the jury’s still out on that one.”

The men roared laughing at Beth’s answer, telling Tom he’d better watch out and stay on his toes.

“This one’s on to your game.”

“I think we should grab a table and eat before these guys decide to kidnap you and save you from me, who they obviously consider a fate worse than death.”

A few of the men gave Tom a slap on his back as we left the bar and headed for one of the few empty tables. After a thoroughly enjoyable lunch, Jack appeared at the table with an after-dinner drink.

“Thought this would suit your perfectly,” he said, landing the tiny cordial glass in front of me. “It’s called an angle’s teat.” His smile obliterated the rest of the room for her. She was spellbound.

“I’m Beth, by the way,” she said, extending her hand. Taking hold of it, he rubbed his thumb between her thumb and index finger, sending flurries rippling through her chest.

“Well, Beth, I hope we meet again sometime.”

Then he was gone and Tom was talking about something but Beth didn’t hear or care what that was. Jack’s deep voice and warm touch was still echoing through her.

A few minutes late, Beth said she had to get back to work. Tom walked her out, hailed a cab, and gave her another kiss on the cheek before heading back into Chez Monique.

The next night, Beth and her girlfriend, Amy, were back at their favorite Wall Street bar. Since Amy worked downtown and didn’t finish up until six o’clock, it made sense for Beth to meet her downtown rather than sit alone for an hour, or more, at a bar uptown. The two of them were enjoying the company of some stockbrokers they had come to know when one of them said, “Well, this is a first. What’re you doing here, Jack? Jim,” he called to the bartender, “get Jack whatever he wants, on me.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Jack said, turning to Beth. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Beth said, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“Nope. But I asked around and found out this is your favorite spot, so here I am.”

“You asked around?”

“Well ... I asked Tom where he met you.”

“Oh.”

“Told you I hoped we’d meet again, didn’t I? Obviously, I meant it.”

Beth could feel the heat rising up her cheeks and the familiar flurries rippling through her again. His dark blue eyes held hers like a chain securing a boat to the pier. He was the poster child for the “tall, dark, and handsome” cliché that so many women dream of.

“Hi,” Amy said.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Jack, this is my friend, Amy. Amy, Jack.”

The two shook hands and after the usual where do you work questions, Jack turned his attention back to Beth, forgetting Amy even existed.

A couple of hours later, Beth said, “Wow, ten o’clock. I should be getting home. The alarm clock always seems to go off too early.”

“I have my car right outside. Can I give you a lift? And Amy too, of course, if she’s ready to go.”

           Minutes late, Amy climbed into the back seat and Beth slid into the front next to Jack.

“It’s not pretty, but it gets me where I need to go,” Jack said, apologizing for the beat-up state of the ten-year-old Chevy.

“And it’s cheaper than a cab,” Amy said.

Jack dropped Amy off in Chelsea, then he and Beth made their way uptown to her street.

“A parking spot,” Beth said. “Must be a mirage.”

“We wouldn’t want to waste it, “Jack said. “How about one more beer at this pub?” He motioned toward the pub on the corner of the block.

“Okay, one more. But then I really have to get some sleep.”

Jack opened the pub door and led her to the end of the bar. Dim lights, soft music, dark wood walls, a perfect spot to end the night. He ordered two Budweisers and they settled in to find out a little something about each other.

The next think Beth knew, the bartender placed two more beers in front of them and leaned over the bar. “Afraid that’s last call,” he said. “It’s four o’clock, closing time.”

“Four o’clock!” Beth said. “Are you kidding? We’ve been here that long?”

“Doesn’t seem like hours, does it?” Jack asked.

“Not at all. More like a few minutes,” Beth said, once again lost in his smile.

“I’m not going to let his end with tonight,” he said.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

The met every night after that first night together, although they kept their four o’clock nights to weekends only.

Years late, sitting in the same pub where they first got to know each other, Beth thought back to their whirlwind romance. She fingered the wedding band on her left hand and realized that love at first sight really could be true for a lucky few.