3

It felt like such a long drive. Was the drive to the restaurant this long? Or was the date really that bad? He didn't remember. [He also didn't remember it getting so dark so soon--hell, it wasn't even 7 when they left...or was it really that long of a drive?] They turned the corner and, in silence, arrived at her apartment.

 

"Would you like to come up? I'll make up some coffee," she asked with mock coyness.

 

"That would be great but I have so much grading to finish. Maybe another time," he lied, hiding his surprise so well it almost alarmed him.

 

"Another time, then," she relinquished. She flashed him a small, understanding smile as she got out of the car and then walked herself to her door. Chad felt terrible even though he knew she didn't want him to come up, but just a vaguely general "him." After all, they just spent an eternity in total silence. Well, except for the time she said "bless you" when he sneezed. That was very nice of her. And he did really need to grade, though he'd probably spend the next few hours in his boxers watching Sports Center.

 

He went home and took a shower in the blinding light of his bathroom. Light bulbs surrounded the mirror like some old Hollywood dressing room--or at least like a Hollywood depiction of one.

 

"Guess you wouldn't know the difference," he smiled to himself. Actually, he couldn't even name any particular movie he'd seen with a dressing room in it. Toweling off, he looked in the mirror, figuring his face looked much less harsh in the restaurant's warm, soft lighting than it did here in his mega-watt bathroom. He listened to the light bulbs' electric glow and thought of the pleasant tinkling in the restaurant--champagne glasses, silverware, casual laughter--though at the time the noises felt like awkward filler between their forced conversation.

 

She really did seem like a nice enough person, just kind of average with her designer bag and cropped khakis. He looked down at his pile of clothes--he had worn khakis too. It wasn't so much that as much as it was that she is khaki, inside and out. Sorority makeup, pin-straight hair...nothing was wrong with her, she just wasn't his type.

 

He examined his face; clear, brown eyes, messy hair with long, side-swooping bangs, and a distinct nose. He would have said big, but someone told him the other day that it was distinct. It was very fine out so they met for lunch at a small place with a nice patio in the back. They had amazing gyros and squinted at each other while they talked about their work.

 

“I love when school groups come for tours,” she beamed between bites of sandwich, “because they’re just so happy to be out of school they’d be interested in anything I tell them!  Seriously!  You have it tough in the classroom just because they’re stuck in school!”  She sipped her coke. "I'm so glad we ate out here! This weather is phenomenal!"

 

He agreed, but wished he brought sunglasses because he felt like he had on a permanent snarl from all the squinting. He joked that he felt like Freddy Krueger with his big nose crinkled like that. "Oh I wouldn't say big," she laughed, "I'd say distinguished."

 

He thought about it. Maybe he should give her a call.