This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
It was mid December. I drove to Philadelphia. I could tell I was really getting old. Even a one -hour drive made me shirk. How did I drive for fifteen hours from Phoenix to San Francisco ten years ago? This time of the year, the shopping season, was actually sad for me. All my relatives were in China, and I had no wife or kid for whom I could buy some new year presents.
But I was meeting someone that day. A student at Philadelphia, Julie was of my age. She read my blog and sent me a story that she wrote. It was a story about her having dinner at a man’ house, and this man wanted her to stay for the night, but was turned down by her. All of the dialogues and reactions were analyzed from a woman’s point of view, with humor and nuance. It was quite an interesting reading for me.
“This comrade proposed to make love.” She wrote.
I could sense her disdain, contempt, and amusement toward the man who was dying for some carnal pleasure.
She was a straight shooter. When we planned our meeting, I told her that I would find a hotel near her place.
“I am not going to the hotel. If you have one night stand in mind you can forget the whole thing now.” She said.
She was living in a house in a dense residential area. The cars were parked close to each other on both sides of the street. It was a living environment I immensely disliked. But it was very convenient for her since this area was very close to her school. She came out of the house about ten minutes after I called her, and we went to Chinatown, which was very close.
“You seem to be very shy.” She said, “and do not seem to be a guy that ever had one night stands with women.”
I was shy and a bit nervous. Only when I knew someone well would I let my guard down. She was wearing a gray jacket, jeans, and a pair of glasses. She smelled very good. It was the smell of some soap rather than the smell of perfume.
“You smell very good.” I said after a few minutes.
“It took you so long to say that?” She said.
I liked her. She was easy going, sincere and ingenuous.
I parked my car in a parking lot and we walked along the Rice Street. She picked a Chinese restaurant. She seemed to have been there before since she knew the place well. I asked her to order.
“I will eat what you eat.” I said.
She ordered two dishes, one of which was tasty, the other sweet and I disliked.
“I thought you would not come today, and I almost went to library.” She said.
“Of course I would come. I want to meet you.”
“So what do you think of me? Do I look the same as in the pictures?” She said, combing back the hairs falling on her forehead.
It was a small Chinese restaurant, and the waitresses were some middle-aged Chinese women. Julie spoke loudly, and I bet the walking-by waitresses and the people sitting close to us could hear what she said. Then they would know we were in a first date, not a couple or lovers eating out. I did not like that. But she was a nice and straightforward woman and I liked her.
The bill came and it was forty bucks. I took out my credit card, and to my horror, the waitress said their credit card machine was down and they only took cash.
“Do you have ATM close by?” I said.
“There was one in the grocery store next door.” The waitress said.
I asked Julie to wait for me and I went out to get cash. The ATM did not work. It was so exasperating. I returned to the restaurant and asked Julie to pay the bill for me.
“The ATM did not work. It is so embarrassing I almost went home.” I said.
When we drove out of the parking lot I was stricken by the same embarrassment. They did not take credit card for parking. So I had to ask Julie to pay it. It was such a big relief when I finally got some cash from an ATM in a gas station.
We went to see a movie. It was the Curious Case of Benjamin Button. It was based on a novel written by F. Scott Fitzgerald. But the story line was changed a lot. When the movie was over, and the lights were turned on, and the audience was standing up, I noticed she was crying. I was at a loss about how to console her.
We had dinner in a Vietnam restaurant. It was about 8 PM. The restaurant faced a quiet, dimly lighted street. I parked my car by the curb. The restaurant was small with a family-like milieu. There was some sports event on the TV behind the counter. We each ordered a plate of meal. Mine tasted very well. We talked about the movie. It turned out we both were movie fans. Over the dinner table I handed her the money for the lunch and the parking.
I gave her a ride home. As I stopped the car and we said goodbye to each other, something from her story came to my mind. That guy, after his request for her to stay for the night was turned down, sent her home, and demanded a kiss as she got out of the car. She had a way of describing the tension between the pathetic man and the resolutely unrelenting woman.
“Thanks for spending the day with me. Have a good night.” I said, determined not to have any physical contact with her. It would be thrilling to touch her, but I did not want to be seen as pathetic.
“Let’s have a hug.” She said.
She gave me a hug, got out of the car and got into the house. Her hug was like a consolation award.
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