Cal's Date

There are only so many ways I can tell Cal that his date is a no-show. His date was supposed to be here by seven-thirty. According to my phone, it’s nine o’clock and the server informed us that the restaurant will be closing in an hour.  

Poor guy. I kind of feel sorry for him. He returns to the dating game after fifteen years since his break up, and he’s ghosted on his first date. This guy stressed over which clothes to wear, spent at least an hour in the shower, and spent another ten minutes shaving the stubble off his chin. 

I asked him what the big deal was, and he said that he met a girl online and that they were going to meet at Maplewood Grill on Olive Street. Her name is Maria. They have been chatting online for a few months. Other than her name, I don’t know anything about her, but I was still happy for Cal getting back in the game. 

Cal is not shy. He’s always the first to make friends with the new guys at work, and he’s never afraid to crack a joke or complain when no one else would. I say this so that you understand that he’s not the timid or bashful type, but he’s also not the type to open up and share his true feelings just with anyone. Believe me, I know.

I was his dormmate freshman year. For a while, the only thing I knew about him was that he was getting a bachelor's in Health Care and he wanted to be a paramedic. I didn’t know if he had brothers or sisters, or if he was an only child. I didn’t know about his hobbies, interests, or stuff he liked. He only came to the dorm room to sleep, to get changed, or to grab a few things for classes. It was pretty nice to have the whole room to myself, but also a little lonely. Whenever I got the chance to ask him things about himself, we’d get interrupted with work or he used his words to circumvent the questions altogether. I soon gave up. I told myself if he was going to open up to me, I should let him do it on his own time. And he did. 

It took about a month but I finally learned that he had two older brothers, he loved to organize, his favorite food was pizza and his favorite movies are RoboCop (the original) and Demolition Man. If it took a month for him to open himself up to me, then whoever won his heart must have been really special. 

While he was getting ready, he told me his last relationship was fifteen years ago. The break up was so messy, he didn’t feel the need to find someone else. He didn't tell me why he got back in the game again, but I was still happy for him.

As he slipped into a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, he asked me if I could be his wingman. It took him a while to get the words out of his mouth. His head turned a shade of bright red, his teeth clenched on every syllable, and he scratched the back of his neck. 

I told him it wasn’t a big deal, and then gave out a laugh to make him feel more comfortable. He grabbed my hand, shook it, then reeled me in so he could pat me on the back. 

Before we arrived at the Maplewood Grill, Maria sent a slew of text messages saying she was on her way. 

Well, we waited and waited, and waited. I can’t tell you how many times Cal has looked at his phone only to put it away. I’ve asked multiple times if Maria said that she was coming. He’d say, “Yeah, yeah she’s coming,” before going completely silent. We’ve had to go through multiple appetizers so the server didn’t forget about us.

Which brings us to the present. 

Five after nine, and she’s still not here. 

I would have left at eight, maybe eight-thirty, but Cal’s been adamant that she’ll show up. For the past five minutes, I’ve been telling Cal that she's not going to show. 

It’s weird seeing him so quiet. His eyes are staring off into the distance, and his curled fingers rest under his lips. 

“Dude, I know it’s hard,” I tell him. “But Maria’s not coming.” 

“No, no, she would have told me if she wasn't able to make it,” he says in haste. “We’ve been planning this for weeks now. She can’t… she wouldn’t...” 

I bite my lip. I don’t want Cal to be discouraged from dating anyone ever again, but I can’t stand to see him like this. I need to tell him in the best and most gentle way I can. I need to be subtle. 

“So, you’ve known each other for how long?” I ask. 

“About four months,” he mumbles. 

“Wow, and uh, done any video calls, talked on the phone, or is it all through chat messages?” 

His eyes spring to life, and for the first time since we’ve been here, he looks right at me. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, with a hint of anger in his tone. 

Uh, oh. 

I went too fast, now he knows. I need to de-escalate the conversation by any means necessary.

“No reason,” I mumble. “Thought maybe you could give her a call that’s all.” 

“She doesn’t like to talk on the phone and she’s self-conscious about her image.” He takes a deep breath. “Plus, I’ve been texting her this whole time.” 

“Has she said when she’ll be here?” 

Cal’s jaw clamps shut. I never thought you could feel anger radiate off of someone, but Cal proved me wrong. His anger is like a heatwave. It’s like I’m sitting next to the sun on full blast. I’m surprised by how quiet he is. The Cal I knew would go on an enraged tirade by now. He’s probably holding back on account that we’re good friends. 

I have the sudden urge to know more about this Maria person, but it's none of my business. Is it? I mean Cal's my friend, and seeing him tortured like this makes me feel sick. Isn't his happiness my business? Friends need to look out for each other. Yeah, I'm looking out for Cal. So knowing more about Maria is my business.

I clear my throat. 

Alright, I'm going to ask him in three…two…one…

“Could you show me a photo of her?” 

Cal turns his head so fast I swear I heard a bone snap. 

“Why?” he asks.

Luckily, I've prepared myself for this question.

“Maybe I can spot her for you,” I explain. “I can't do that if I don't know what she looks like.” 

His head slumps down and I watch his eyes dart one way then the other. I take a glance and I see his hands gripping to the edges of his phone. Maybe it’s best if I lay off for now. 

“You know what, forget it,” I sigh. I sink into my seat and place my hands behind my head. My eyes grow heavy and I feel like giving them a rest. 

“Okay, fine, you can take a look.” 

I open my eyes and sit back up. I wonder what caused Cal to have a sudden change of heart. Either he agrees I have the right idea, he’s admitting that he has the same sinking feeling that I have, or both. 

“No, harm in it is there,” I hear him mumble as he hands me his phone. I thank him before looking it over for myself.  

Turns out they were messaging each other through the dating app.

The last couple of messages are from Cal. Each one is either asking her where she is, or him asking her what’s taking so long. For further confirmation that these messages were from Cal, I could see his portfolio picture next to each line of text. I scroll for a second or two before coming across the last message from Maria. 

“Hey babe, I’m on my way!” 

According to the time stamp below, she sent it at 6:45 PM. 

From what I can tell from her portfolio picture, she has luscious, golden hair, tan skin and pink lips. I have no idea what her eye colors are since they’re blocked by her dark brown sunglasses. With a white railing and the sight of the ocean in the background, I’m able to tell she was on a yacht or on a cruise ship. She’s holding up a margarita on her left hand as she gives the camera an open smile. She’s wearing a white shawl, but to me it looks like a shirt made of made of white chains. The shawl barely hides the white bikini underneath.

She looks attractive, but very average. If I were to line her up with other beautiful women, there would be no way I would be able to tell her apart from the rest. 

I double-tap her picture and now I’m waiting for the page to load. 

The screen flashes and I can see her whole bio. 

According to this, she’s twenty-three years old, loves the outdoors, lives only a few miles out of the city, is studying to be a marine veteran, not interested in having kids and looking for a man in their thirties. 

“Get a good look?” 

I glance up to see Cal tapping his fingers on the table. I don’t want to cause suspicion, but I feel there’s more I need to know about this woman. I need to stall. 

“Just a minute,” I say. I feel like that’s not enough so I add the fake excuse that the WiFi is terrible here and that the page is taking a while to load. Cal rolls his eyes, but I’m certain that he’s accepted my excuse.

I have to hurry. I can only use that excuse so much before he gets suspicious. 

I hit the back arrow and return to the text messages. I scroll up and down. I need to find a clue or something to show Cal that Maria isn’t who she says she is. That sounds bad, and there’s a part of me that hopes that Maria got into an accident or lost track of the time. But the logical, objective part of my mind says that can’t be. She would have told Cal by now if she wasn’t going to make it or if she was running late. 

Messages fly by like images on a slot machine. 

There’s nothing here so far. I glance up to see Cal’s hands clench and unclench as he flashes me an icy stare. I know he’s not angry at me. He’s probably still antsy that it’s been a good five minutes and I’m still looking through his phone. I want to hand it back to him, but I keep telling myself to wait, that I’m about to find whatever it is I’m looking for.

Wait, what's this?  

I stop scrolling, and I examine the messages word for word. 

Cal: I wish you didn’t live so far away. You need to come to the city with me.  

Maria: I would, but I’m poor. 😮‍💨 If you could send me some 💰 then maybe I could find a place to rent. 

Cal: Come live with me. You can have the spare room, and I won’t even charge you rent. 

Maria: Awwwww… thx, but I prefer to have a place of my own. 

Her asking for money piqued my interest. I've always heard that one way to tell whether someone was a scammer was when they asked for money, but Maria's request seemed reasonable. 

I scroll down further and stop again at a message from Cal. Turns out he did give Maria the money after all. Maria gave her thanks with a line of hearts and a, “Thx babe!”

I then saw pictures of the apparent, an empty yellow room with brown carpeting. It’s odd that she didn’t take a selfie of her in the apartment, and I guess Cal thought too at the time. He asked for a selfie, but she responded that she was too shy and couldn't do it. If that’s true, why does her portfolio picture say otherwise? 

Maybe I don't know much about women, maybe I'm being sexist, but smiling while holding a margarita says anything but shy. Either she’s telling the truth and she faked being confident for the camera, she's lying about being shy, or the woman in the photo might not even be Maria at all.

I can't seem to find any more photos of the apartment, but I do see more texts of Maria asking for money and Cal giving it to her. I can't believe what I'm reading. 

“Oh, Cal,” I place the phone down, close my eyes, and pinch the temple of my nose.

“What? What is it?” I hear him say.

It takes me a while to collect my thoughts. How do I put it lightly? 

“Listen, I'm glad you decided to put your hat in the game.” 

Okay. So far so good.

“I hope I'm wrong. I pray to God I'm wrong, but I don’t think Maria's real.”

“What? How can you say that? He growls while forming a fist on the table. “Maria is as real as you or me!” 

“Think about it, Cal. You've never called, you've never Facetimed.

Do you know anything about her?” 

“She likes the outdoors, she wants to be a vet for ocean animals…” 

“Something that's not from her bio!” 

He goes silent. 

I thought as much.

“There are more women out there…” I want to say more, but Cal stops me by raising his hand. 

“Don't say that,” he cries. “I'm thirty-five for crying out loud. It took me fifteen years to get over Grace, and I don’t want to waste another fifteen on Maria. I gotta make this work, I just gotta!”

I don't know how far I should push him. Maybe I should stop for now. The guy has already been through hell tonight, do I really need to make it worse? I wonder if he knows Maria isn’t real but doesn't want to admit it. How much money has he given her? If I paid the bill for her apartment then I would want to believe she was real too. What if he's not angry at me? Is he really angry at her or at himself? Maybe he's lashing out at me because I’m the only one here. I want to give him a pat on the back to let him know everything is alright, but that might be taking things too far.

“Listen, man. If you want to talk, you can talk to me,” I know how corny it sounds but it’s the truth. “I might give you a hard time, but we’re still friends, right?” 

He nods his head, but he doesn’t even look at me. Has he been crying? I don’t see any tears but his eyes are bright red. He places both hands on his nose and makes a loud sniffing sound. 

“Now what?” he asks, finally looking at me. I take my phone out of my pocket and look at the time. 

“Well, we have thirty minutes left, let’s just go ahead and eat,” I tell him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he sniffs, “That sounds good. But let's leave a menu for Maria, just in case she shows up.”

“I don’t see why not,” I tell him. 

He flashes me a smile, and I think it’s the first time I’ve seen him enjoying himself since we got here.

Sure, this night hasn't gone exactly as planned, but that doesn’t mean we have to be deprived of a good time.

Cal looks over my shoulder, raises his hand above his head, and gives a big wave. I turn around to see our server coming toward us in a brisk walk. He has his tablet out and ready.

I order first and then Cal. The server presses the screen at an alarming speed. I'm amazed he can keep up with us, but I guess that comes with the profession. He asks us if we want anything else, we both look at each other then back at him, and shake our heads.

When he asks to take our menus, Cal looks right at me. True to my word, I don’t fight it and I leave it all to him. I can't help but feel concerned for Cal. He didn't asked to be scammed and he's still telling himself that this Maria person is real. I know we can't fix it in one night and I don't even want to try. For now, I just want to enjoy what’s left of this eventful night.