9. Keith #2
“You know, now that I think about it, it probably would have been shallow if you only asked me out because I got my little makeover. I guess, in the end, it really was for me.” She let out a dry chuckle that was quite different from her explosive cackling earlier.
“Jeez Louise, I sound like an after-school special.” Her voice went higher, as if she were mocking herself.
“And remember kids, never judge a book by its cover! It’s what’s on the inside that counts! ”
There she was, confusing me again. Was she trying to insinuate that she wasn’t beautiful before? No, that couldn’t possibly be the case. “You do know that you’re wicked hot, right?”
Normally, I loved her look of surprise. It was one of the first things about her that had stuck in my mind. But I didn’t like that she was wearing it just because I acknowledged that she was an attractive woman.
An extremely attractive woman.
“Wicked hot, huh? Are you trying to appeal to my Jersey side there?”
“I don’t know about that. I’m just telling the truth. You’re a very attractive woman, and that hasn’t been changed by what you wear.”
“You know, from anyone else I would think that was bullshit, but from you? I believe it.”
I didn’t know what I’d done to earn that trust, but I certainly wasn’t going to waste it.
“That’s good, because I mean it.”
Our eyes locked, and I was flooded with such an intense sense of connection.
For the life of me, I couldn’t understand what she saw in me, and in turn, it appeared that she was completely blind to her appeal. What a pair we were when we let those negative thoughts get too firm of a grip on the mind-megaphone.
Our conversation stalled, yet the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. We ate, made various appreciative noises over our food, and enjoyed each other’s company until the inclination to talk again reared its head.
“Believe me, I understand burnout, but it really comes across that they got too high on their own supply and thought they were untouchable, so they rushed the entire ending.”
Olivia slapped the table. I loved how passionate she was. Bonus, I also loved that she was passionate about silly little things that I also felt strongly about.
“Oh my god! That’s exactly how I felt. You put it into words perfectly!
From what I heard, they basically had carte blanche to do whatever and make as many seasons as they wanted, but for whatever reason, they were just done.
My theory is they were incredibly talented at translating a book’s content to a show’s content, because those are two very different forms of media, but once they had to write from scratch, they completely flamed out and didn’t know what to do.
It really seems to be two different skill sets, and they assumed things would translate naturally. ”
“Shit, I never even thought of that. I think you’re right!”
She sat back primly, giving me an exaggerated smarmy look. “I usually am.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes, it is. Just like me.”
I didn’t think I’d laughed so much in a single night in years. My cheeks were hurting, and I was sure a new set of wrinkles had etched themselves into the corners of my eyes.
If I had known dating could be so fun, I would have been more proactive about it. Then again, maybe modern dating was every bit the nightmare everyone said it was, and it was the woman across from me who was making the difference.
Over the years, I’d met a lot of people from all walks of life.
Poor and rich, young and old, nice and not so nice.
But I’d never felt such a simple, easy connection to someone I barely knew.
What was even crazier was that it didn’t feel like this was our first date.
No, the total ease between us usually took months to achieve.
I had never been a social butterfly, but she kind of made me feel like I could be.
Who knew, maybe she wasn’t human at all. Maybe she was a hallucination brought on by my loneliness. Well, if she was of my own mental creation, I never wanted to wake up from the dream, because I was having the time of my life!
The conversation wound this way and that, its path completely unpredictable but exhilarating. We went from serious to hilarious and never missed a step.
“So, when you were invited to pool parties, were you a regular swimsuit kid or a T-shirt-over-your-swimsuit-in-the-pool kid?”
“Bold of you to assume that I was ever invited to pool parties.”
“Sure you were! You’re telling me that none of your classmates had a parent who insisted that if they were going to invite anyone from their class they had to invite everyone?”
I gave her a look. When she’d told me she was one of seven kids, I’d assumed her family was rather destitute.
After all, if my mother had a hard time getting by with just the two of us, I couldn’t imagine how difficult it must have been to feed seven mouths.
But I guess, since she had mentioned her family’s company and warehouse, Olivia had had a much different financial upbringing than I had.
“None of my classmates had pools. Most of them lived in apartment complexes that didn’t have pools.”
“I see.” She blushed furiously. “Tell me, is there enough foot in my mouth to count as bringing outside food into the buffet?”
I chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. Different upbringings, you know? It’s not like you’re being an ass about it.”
“I’m certainly not trying to be.”
“So, what do you want to happen with your body when you die?” I asked, changing the subject. “I want to be cremated.”
“I want to be buried under a tree in a great forest so my body can be part of the earth and my descendants can play in the branches of my final resting spot and recover in the shade of its leaves.”
I was breathless for a few beats, struck by that very image in my head.
It was beautiful and spoke to a kind of peace and eternity that I had never much thought about.
Honestly, I tried to avoid the topic of funerals and the like because my mother was beginning to plan for such events, so I was surprised I’d brought it up at all.
I guess Olivia just made me that comfortable.
“Tell me,” Olivia said, her voice deadly serious. “How much wood would a woodchuck really chuck if a woodchuck could indeed chuck wood?”
“Well, that depends. A layman might infer that a woodchuck would chuck as much as he could chuck if a woodchuck could indeed chuck wood, but as someone who is, in the business, as they say, what I would ask is what does it truly mean to chuck? As far as I know, there’s no official agreement on what that particular verb means, and without any sort of definitive basis of what the action even is, how do we quantify how many times our stalwart woodchuck friend can perform it? ”
“See? These are the things we need to be asking. This is what big wood doesn’t want you to know!”
I leaned forward conspiratorially. “Well, if we’re talking about big wood…” I waggled my eyebrows to give it that extra kick.
“Don’t you dare!” she said, laughing once more.
The sound was wonderful and made me feel like I could do my own standup special.
Or maybe even start a podcast. I thought that was a thing men were supposed to do once they reached an age where they suddenly decided they needed to have an opinion on everything.
The conversation moved on from there.
“But yeah, talk about a perfect example of hubris! They literally fumbled so bad that they got their entire next project revoked.”
“Do you think they learned their lesson?” I asked. “Or do you think they blamed everyone else for what happened? There are some contrarians who like to say that watchers are entitled and the ending was actually perfectly fine.”
“That’s factually incorrect and people are stupid.” She said it so quickly, so earnestly, that it hit my funny bone in the right spot. My abs and cheeks were getting a full workout from all the laughter. “Wait, why are we talking about this again? It’s been years since that show ended!”
“You were telling me a story about how your realtor brother got into a bit of a pickle when he told a couple their house had sold before everything was assured to facilitate them buying another house out of their budget and the whole thing almost came falling down like a house of cards.”
“Right! That! It was the hubris.”
“Exactly.”
“Did you ever—”
“Excuse me, we are closing now.”
We both jolted and looked at the server who had approached our table.
I was all set to question whether I had misread their operating hours, but then I checked my phone.
It was past midnight, which was when the restaurant was supposed to close.
When had that happened!? Had five hours really passed since I met Olivia at the first restaurant? How was that possible?
Too many questions, but as far as I could tell, Olivia was thinking them all too, because our eyes met once more and I swore we mirrored each other exactly.
“Would you look at that?” I murmured, moving to stand. “Thank you, ma’am. We didn’t realize.”
“It’s no problem! You have a good night now!”
Although I knew it wasn’t really customary to tip at a buffet, I laid a ten on the table anyway. I knew from experience that there was a two-hour limit and they’d been gracious enough to let us sit around longer.
Olivia and I headed outside, ending up standing on the sidewalk connected to the parking lot, just looking at each other.
It didn’t logically compute that someone could be so beautiful under the harsh, artificial yellow of a streetlight, but Olivia glowed angelically.
Between those earthen, gem-like eyes of hers, her dark, bouncing curls, the curve of her plump lips when she smiled, and her curvy figure, I was rapidly spinning toward besotted.
Does anyone even say besotted anymore?