Sunday, November 27, 2005

The shrimp was still fresh. The lettuce was nicely crisp. And the mangoes gave the salad the added touch of flavor.

Gerald navigated his fork between folds of green to find a tiny cube of yellow among the reddish white meat of the small decapod crustacean. He slid the small cube of mango out of his plate and held it in front of him with the intention of asking Patricia if she wanted some.

”No thanks,” she smiled and stabbed her fork upon the carbonara she had ordered for herself. Gerald grinned.

“You did it again,” he told her.

”Did what?”

“You did it again,” he repeated himself and scooped the mango cube into his mouth, “You answered a question I did not ask yet.”

“Well,” Patricia shrugged, “You were digging through your salad for almost ten minutes. Then you were holding that fork in front of you for almost two minutes. Obviously you had something to either say or were deeply thinking of how to say something. So I decided to trust my gut instincts and answer what I thought you were thinking.”

Gerald shook his head in disbelief, “You really are psychic.”

“So are you,” she teased him and began to use her fork to chop up the carbonara noodles into smaller easier to scoop stalks, “You were the one here to had some form of clairvoyant vision.”

”I know, it was freaky. Well, it was cool. And freaky. I mean, I could really see you. The windows and all that.”

”Hollywood inspired clairvoyance,” she mused, “Think about it, while some people see dead ghosts, you probably see them with light sabers and matching green mist or something.”

“No fair,” Gerald raised both hands from the table and interlocked their fingers in front of his face, as if hiding in shame, “I have one single moment of mutant ability and you have to tear it down to pieces.”

“One could hope,” Patricia teased him and scooped some carbonara onto a spoon.

“No thanks,” Gerald told her and slid a forkful of leafy greens into his mouth. “I normally prefer red sauce pasta… or pesto,” he explained between chewing motions.

“Now who here is playing psychic?”

They shared another hearty laugh and felt the world around them fade away. For that moment, there was no one else in the world that existed. No one else in the world that mattered. The noise of the city faded away. The sounds of traffic fell silent. The cold seasonal winds seemed just right.

”Gerald,” Patricia broke the silence with a question, “What is going on here? I mean, why did you invite me out for dinner?”

“You’re asking me a serious question,” Gerald asked, as if to clarify if the witty banter was not welcome. Patricia gave a nod in reply. Taking a deep breath, Gerald wiped his lips clean with the table napkin and gave his answer, “I like hanging around with you.”

“So you invited me for dinner because?”

“It was evening?”

“Gerald-“ Patricia was about to call foul but Gerald continued talking.

“Had it been morning, I would have invited you instead out for breakfast. Noon. Lunch. Heck, if it were around midnight I’d ask you if you’d like to go have a night cap. Or maybe some dessert before heading for bed.”

“But why?”

“Why am I asking you out?” Gerald looked at Patricia as if he did not know for certain what the question was supposed to be about.

“Yes, why are you asking me out? It is not like we really know each other,” Patricia asked with a smile.

“That is actually it.”

“What is?”

”We don’t,” Gerald smiled, “And I am basically trying to change that.”

The two fell silent again. Gerald was blushing, though he tried to pretend he wasn’t. He felt a great smile growing inside of him, having finally gotten the change to admit he liked her. He would never admit it, but Gerald was actually in more ways than not a coward at heart when it came to matters of the heart. Admitting his feelings was easy, but admitting his intentions was harder. Gerald, one must understand, was never self-assertive in the past. During his childhood years, Gerald was counted among the geeks and nerds whom was always forced to stand as the outsider when it came to any activities. He was seen as the strange one. The odd man out. Or the one whom was picked last when it came to group activities. Growing up in such an environment of detached interest towards him, Gerald learned pretty fast during those years how to simply admit when he did not feel comfortable. Or whether or not he would rather not force himself upon a group that did not appreciate his company. Being honest about how he felt was easy. But when it came to admitting why he would rather go home than play. Or why he would rather read his comic books than play basketball, it was then that he would falter. It was then that the fears of being ridiculed or called a freak would win over his sense of convictions.

And force him to lie.

He hated lying. But he hated more the strange looks and odd stares he would get when he would explain how he felt like the rest of the kids did not like him. Or how the rest of the group would mock the things he was insecure about. Or worse, how the very insecurity would be transformed into a joke that would then be the joke of the year used against him.

“I really believe I like you, Patricia,” Gerald took the risk and prayed that he had made the right decision, “I even want to see if this actually leads somewhere. But I think right now we are actually still in the getting to know one another stage so there is no reason to be paranoid yet right? It would be like getting way ahead of ourselves.”

Patricia gave no response. Gerald felt his old worries rise to the fore and ducked his head back to face his plate. Scoop after scoop of the salad found a sanctuary in his mouth. He felt too scared to look up and see what expression was on Patricia’s face.

“I’m sorry, what exactly did that mean?”

Gerald felt himself crumble. Was she making a joke over what he said? Patricia bent her torso forward a bit, hoping to bring her face more into Gerald’s line of sight. She offered her kindest smile, and asked again, “Ahead of ourselves?”

“Sorry,” Gerald shook his head nervously, “I’m assuming things here, I think.”

Patricia smiled but felt the pause grow into a pregnant and nervous one. She wanted to break the silence but was not sure how to do so. Or what to say. Gerald was already mentally counting the seconds which he believed would lead to Patricia excusing herself and perhaps giving some odd yet evidently plausible excuse to cut the dinner short.

Gerald was used to such excuses.

“We’re friends,” Patricia asked, as if to clarify.

“Of course,” Gerald responded and immediately found himself hating the answer he gave. In one mind set, saying yes would mean one was not interested in courtship. It would have given the impression that the other was really just someone whom was expected to be a friend. A buddy. Maybe even just some acquaintance. In another mind set, to have said No would have meant one had ulterior intentions in mind. Or perhaps unspoken plans. Which then would have suggested a very concealed motive. A lack of trust.

Gerald felt the fear rising in his chest. He felt the fear already winning the battle and his left foot already tapping the ground unnecessarily out of nervousness. He brought the glass to his lips and took a sip. In that motion, he stole a glance towards Patricia and saw how she took his answer:

She was eating her carbonara.

Paranoia went into over-drive. Gerald could hear himself yelling in his head, “Look what you have done! See! She is now uncertain of what you want! She does not even know how to act around you now! You have ruined it all! Ruined it all!” He swallowed two more gulps of water without bringing the glass down.

“Okay,” Gerald broke the silence and set the glass down with a resounding clatter. The other people in the restaurant turned towards them, wondering what the noise was about. Gerald raised a hand in apology, stood up and mouthed a few “I’m sorry” apologies to the staff who came to check if some customer had thrown a glass in anger.

Patricia smiled as Gerald sat back down and the two shared another moment just smiling at the incident. They tended to have those moments, Gerald now began to realize. Moments of silent happiness, shared without either side having to initiate it.

“Okay,” Gerald started again, “I want to explain something. But do know that I am very unused to this…”

“Uh huh,” Patricia nodded in reply as she wiped her own mouth clean with the napkin she held in her other hand, “Okay…”

“Okay,” Gerald exhaled to try and calm himself down. “I really like you. And I like you a lot that I do not want to rush things. I do not want to risk turning this into some rebound thing. Or some weird physical thing. I want to get to know you more. Because so far, from the little I do know of you, I like what I know already.”

Gerald felt the cold sweat in his hands. He felt the quiver in his voice. He felt his knees go weak. But he felt a renewed sense of strength and pride. He had done it. He had admitted what his intentions were. And he had found the courage to risk being vulnerable and saying it. He remembered how some friends used to warn him that for a guy to admit he was interested in a girl was an act of great stupidity. Doing so would do nothing other than make the guy vulnerable and bare. No guy in his right mind would do such a thing, they used to tell him. No one who wanted to play the game right, that was.

But Gerald was long tired of such games. Gerald was very tired of people who would make bets with their friends as to whether or not they would get some gal’s phone number. People who would show interest in some other person they meet, chat the small chit chat, then get their numbers but never call. Or the people who would intentionally try to make the other leap through hoops. Or get jealous. Or play these mind games just to test one’s loyalty or one’s favor.

Gerald wanted someone who like him simply wanted to be real.

To be emotionally honest.

To be emotionally true.

So he took the risk.

“I want to get to know you more, Patricia.”

Gerald held his breath. He stared at Patricia’s eyes and noticed that she had stopped eating. There was a long moment of silence that threatened to grow into another pregnant pause. Gerald was already screaming in his head. He was remembering how stupid he was to think there would be others who didn’t play “the game.” He wanted to find the nearest time machine and jump back a few minutes. He wanted to delete this hideously embarrassing moment that ruined it all and try to keep in mind that no one really liked a guy who was honest about his own feelings and fears.

Patricia wiped her mouth again with the napkin then slowly stood from the table. Gerald felt his heart on the verge of breaking as she tried to force a smile on her face and excused herself.
“Sorry,” Patricia admitted, “I know this seems awkward. But really, I just need to pass by the bathroom.”

“Sure,” Gerald replied and watched her make her way to the restroom without once ever looking back. Gerald remembered an old movie he had seen in the past that told him a simple truism he always believed in. “A person who is interested would always look back.”

She never did.

* *

Patricia closed the bathroom door behind her and thanked God for having allowed her to reach the sink before her tears began to flow. She felt the huge burden of emotion on her chest weigh her down and released all the pent up frustration and fear out by crying it out in silence. She stared at her reflection on the mirror and found herself wondering why this was all happening. Why to her? Why now?

With trembling hands, Patricia turned on the faucet and allowed the water to flow. She placed both hands into the torrent of water and relished the cold soothing spray of water that doused her fingers to a calmer state of being. She bent forward and cupped her hands to gather what she could of the water, then brought the water to her face. It was like a cleansing ritual. Or a baptism. One that brought her from an old life of pain and self-doubt into one where she believed she found a possibly honest soul who actually felt she was worth his attention.

But was she ready for this?

Did she want this?

Patricia remembered the events that colored her past. The previous lovers and failed attempts at finding someone to share her life with. She remembered the half-meant promises, the lies, the proud proclamations that never amounted to anything, the selfish desires that twisted her needs into demands, and the pain. She remembered the pain most easily and the terribly difficult effort of recovering from each broken heart. The complicated task of shifting through her wounds and picking up the tiny glass shards of her heart from the mess of falsehoods and abuse. And not to forget the intricate task of gluing each shard back together again in hopes that someone else would someday want to embrace the multifarious effort of taking care of it again.

She saw herself as damaged goods, even if she had never allowed any physical act of violation upon her. She felt like she was too fragile to risk letting another person be part of her life.
But now, she felt like she stood at the edge of a cliff side with a parachute on her back named Gerald. Was she ready to take another gamble. To take another risk?

Patricia heard the intermittent knocking sounds coming from the door and realized that there was most likely someone outside wondering if she had fallen asleep in the loo. She gave her face one last drench of water to wash away any hints of the tears that fell earlier and suddenly discovered to her horror that there were no paper towels in sight. She reached for her purse and realized it was not at her side. Wet with water still on her face, Patricia decided to face the music and hope the door.

It was not like she could end up any more embarrassed than this.

* *

Gerald was fidgeting at the table, running his fingers in small circles as they tapped the table out of sheer nervousness. When he noticed the small line of people outside the ladies room, he felt even more foolish. He could imagine Patricia inside, perhaps gaging in disgust or laughing her heart out. Or perhaps even so embarrassed by his words that she had pried the window open and escaped off to God knows where ever it was she lived. He emptied his glass of water and hailed down the waiter to ask for a refill.

By the time the waiter had finished filling his glass, Gerald saw the bathroom door open and a very wet faced Patricia returned to the table. He looked at her with a curious interest expressed on her face. “What happened?”

“My bag please?”

“No paper towels?” Gerald asked as he handed her the bag. Patricia simply nodded and opened the bag. She dug through her things and found the small stash of facial tissues that she had been saving for emergencies like this.

“Psychic again!” Patricia joked and the two felt the tension immediately shatter. Once again, they felt the warm and clean comfort of being together. Once again they felt familiar. Safe.
“I like how you laugh,” Gerald found himself admitted.

”I like how you make me laugh,” Patricia admitted before she realized what she had said, “You have a knack for it.”

And suddenly, both felt like whatever oddness gave the night a strange direction earlier had suddenly faded away. Dinner came and went. Dessert followed. And by the coming of midnight, the two discovered how late it was and decided it was time to make their way home.

“I can commute, really,” Patricia insisted but Gerald would not hear any of it. He handed the waiter the payment for the food and folded the receipt twice before placing it in one of the pockets in his wallet, “No, I insist. I want to make sure you get home safely. If I don’t, I will end up worrying over you all night.”

“Really, I can,” Patricia tried to convince Gerald but found he remained firm on his decision.

”It’s final and I will not change my mind,” Gerald replied at first in what sounded like an assertively aggressive voice, until his tone revealed the frankness of his offer, “I will only let you go on your own if you have someone from your family or friends to go with you. Okay? So, let’s go.”

Patricia rose from her chair and found Gerald standing towards her with something in his hand. She looked up at him, a bit uncertain what was going on, until he realized what he held in his palm.

“A fortune cookie,” he explained, “There was a jar of them at work. Decided to take two and have us find out what our fortunes foretell.”

“Wow,” Patricia giggled, “Let’s find out!”

“Don’t forget to add ‘in bed’” Gerald reminded her but discovered Patricia did not even know what he was talking about. “In bed,” he explained as he cracked his own cookie open, “You are supposed to read it and add the words ‘in bed’ at the end for the more humorous and honest message.”

Patricia cracked her cookie open and began digging through the broken sweet cookie parts for the slip of paper that housed her fortune. She read it silently first, then began to giggle. Gerald found his and noticed something amusingly odd about it.

”I got two fortunes in mine,” Gerald gasped, “Very lucky then!”

“Listen to this:” Patricia began reading her fortune, “Do not pick a fight, be understanding instead…”

“…in bed,” Gerald continued it and started laughing. Patricia grinned as she took a shard of the sweet cookie and bit into it. The sugary flavor danced on her tongue. Liking it, Patricia took a second piece and nibbled it before asking Gerald to read his fortune.

“There are two,” Gerald explained and laid them down on the table, “See?”

Patricia picked up one of them and read it aloud. “Men may doubt what you say but they will believe what you do… in bed!”

Gerald, between gasps for breath due to laughter, read the other one, “Look for the simple pleasures. Your happiness is intertwined with your outlook on life… in bed!”

The two tried to stop laughing but their bodies refused to comply. Like hyenas giggling, Gerald and Patricia continued to heave with every laugh, tears welling in their eyes from the effort. Though they were just friends, they felt a close and frank relation to one another already there.

Already present.

And growing stronger by the day.

Word Count = 3,328
Previous Count = 32,058
Total Count = 35,386 of 50,000


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