Shall We

She left a note taped to my front door. A time and place where to meet her with no intention of showing up herself. I knew that she wouldn’t show but a part of me hung on to the possibility that she would. We’ve been talking for 6 months now I have yet to meet her, we make a plan, and she doesn’t show up. She always follows it with an excuse that causes me to feel bad that I was angry in the first place.

           It unsettled me that she knew where I lived, and I only knew the things that she was willing to share. Things that I couldn’t one hundred percent say for certain were facts about her life or stories that she created. Love made me blind. I chose to believe what she said even though I doubted it later when certain pieces did not fit together. She was the person closest to me after I told her my life secrets and aspirations, which is why I found myself preparing for a date where the attendance was uncertain.

           Even as I tied the laces to my favorite shoes, I doubted what it was all for. Would I finally get a glimpse at the woman I’ve been falling for or will I fall flat on my face once more unable to find her face in the crowd. Yet still, I made my way out the door and to the restaurant that she chose at the time she requested. I discarded my tricks from dates passed to try and catch her. On our first scheduled date, I arrived early hoping to see her face at a table waiting for me to arrive or to see her come in searching for my face in a crowd. The second time I arrived late, mostly on purpose, and she was yet nowhere to be found. On the last date I tested a theory suggested by my brother and just didn’t show up, it killed me inside to think of her sitting there alone waiting for me as I did for her. That was until I got her text saying how sorry she was again that she couldn’t make it.

           I thought about each of those times as I sat here alone ignoring the pity looks from the wait staff and those passing by realizing I was a single man at a table for two. I did my best to ignore their eyes, but I could feel their glares. I caught glimpses of them every time my head raised at the sound of the door chime going off for the entrance or exit of a new face. I felt my dignity slipping with each chime that was met with an unfamiliar face. I waited for the waiter to return so I could tell him to end my misery.

           “Is this seat taken?” A voice pierced through the crowd of conversations.

           As I looked up it was a face that I had seen before, in passing. A face that I remember from my awkward introduction at the mailroom we share. I wasn’t sure in which apartment, but I knew that she lived in my building. Before I could answer she was taking the seat across from me realizing the lost for words expression evident on my face.

           “I was waiting for someone.” I said finally able to muster up words to speak to her.

           “For how long?” She asked combing her eyes through the menu.

           “About 45 minutes now.” I said keeping my eyes on my watch.

           “You must really believe she’s coming.” She said with a smile on her face.

           “I did.” I said drifting my attention from her to the new faces that just entered the restaurant. I still waited for her, wondering what she would think if she arrived to see me at a table with another woman. I knew that it wouldn’t look well and that her assumptions would get the best for her. I had to think of a way to excuse myself or return to my misery of searching for the woman that I love.

           “You are looking for her still?” She asked lowering her menu.

           “She is my date.” I said trying to dissuade her judgment.

           “One that stood you up.” She gestured to my appearance making light that I was not the person that should have been stood up.

           “Fourth times the charm?” I asked giving her a puzzled looking hoping that she would agree with me.

           “SHE STOOD YOU UP FOUR TIMES?!“ She was embarrassingly loud but unapologetic about it. I tried to get her to lower her voice, but the overwhelming shock was taking over her. “WHO IS SHE THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND?!” She was reaching for my phone. “I have to see a picture of this girl.” I tried to get it back, but she had already seen my screen saver. She placed my phone back on the table and grabbed my hand. “Let’s go.” She said pulling me up and to the way of the door. “We’re going to go find her.”

           “What do you mean to find her?” I asked unwillingly following her outside.

           “I mean we’re going to do a twisted game of cat and mouse. You wanted to know why she keep standing you up. You must look for her. So, tell me what do you know?” She asked stopping at the hotdog stand down the street from the restaurant we just sat.

           “Well, she’s from New York like me, she works for a dog grooming business near some construction site. Every time I call her it’s loud background noise like they’re building a skyscraper and I can never hear her.” I said trying to get her to understand.

           “Thank God you’re pretty.” She said putting a hotdog in my confused hands waiting for her to explain her comment.

           “Is that all?” She asked. “6 months and that’s all you can remember? She likes dogs and is a bad liar.” She said looking at me as we continued to walk down the street.

           “She has a fear of heights, she refused to get an apartment on the top floor of her building because she swore, she would fall to her death.” I laughed remembering the conversation we had about the things that we feared. I hadn’t noticed that she was right behind me. I turned to look at her wondering why she strayed off the course.

           “Those grates.” She pointed to the ground. “I don’t walk on them or cellar doors. You don’t know when they could cave in.”

           I ignored her absurd theory and continued to walk not knowing where we were headed. I looked to her as she continued to lead the way. I looked down at my phone wondering what she could have possibly seen that made her get the epiphany to go seek the woman that I love. I couldn’t find anything. It was a picture that I had combed a thousand times. There was indicative information about where she could be. There was only one explanation that made sense.          

           “Do you know her? My Brooke?” I asked showing her the picture once more.

           “How possessive is that? ‘Your Brooke’” She said with air quotations that lead to a chuckle of her own. “I could use some ice cream to wash down that hotdog. You?” She asked pointing to the shop up the road.

           “You didn’t answer my question.” I restated as we entered the shop.

           “You have so many. Just relax we’ll find your Cinderalla before the pumpkin rises.” She said before ordering. She ordered vanilla, Brooke’s favorite, I always joked that she loved the simple things in life where I loved the complex.

           “Half caramel vanilla, half cookies, and cream.” I ordered which struck a repulsive reaction on her face.

           “Gross.” She said taking the first bite of her ice cream.

           “Have you tried it?” I asked.

           “Don’t need to try dog poop to know it’s bad.” She laughed making her way out the door with me shortly behind her.

           I followed her for a few more blocks wondering if she would ever answer my question about knowing Brooke. We reached the apartment building we shared, and I turned to her surprised.

           “Did you just walk me home?” I asked.

           “Calm down beauty Bell. I live here too remember? And we came to find your girl.” She said opening the door.

           “She’s here?” I asked following her inside.

           “She knew where you lived, and she was able to get in to leave that note with considerably bad handwriting on it. She had to have a key.” She jingled her keys in my face before opening the secondary door.

           “Smart.” I said following her in. “But what if she just followed someone in.”

           “Her picture I’ve seen it before. The bad handwriting too.” She said climbing the stairs to the second floor.

           “WHERE?!” I asked stopping myself from screaming at her louder. If she knew this whole time where Brooke was, what was the point of the scavenger hunt?

           She stood before a door waving a hand before it as if it were a magic show. She had a smile on her face looking at me as if she had a big secret to reveal. She jiggled her keys once more and rested her hands at her sides. She looked at me one last time before facing the door, lifted her hand, and knocked on the door.

           “I know you’re in there.” She knocked harder. The door opened and a face that I had never seen before opened.

           “What do you want Kim?” The woman stood in the doorway with a strong Polish accent.

           “You con Casper here?” She pulled me into eyesight range and the woman froze in her tracks. She was unable to look at me, she kept all her attention on Kim.

           “No con. Real love like sleepless in Seattle.” She said pointing toward her TV.

           “Next time don’t use the picture from the frame in your living room and change the handwriting. Your noise complaint handwriting ad love notes should be different Helga.” Kim said it so calmly, but I was filled with rage. I didn’t know what to do, I wanted to push past Kim to get my justice, my revenge.

           “Sorry, buddy.” She said rubbing my arm.

           “MY NAME IS KYLE! Not Casper, buddy, Bell, or any other name you can think of to describe my appearance! I just had my life ruined! I thought we were in love! My life is destroyed and you treated it like it was a game of hide and seek! What is wrong with you?!” I couldn’t control how loud I was. I could hear feet shuffling to peepholes to see what was happening.

           “I thought… I thought it was the only way I’d get an actual date with you.” She couldn’t look at me which was to her benefit because I was at a loss for words.