Starting from Square Two (10 page)

“So,” Erika called out. “Where are you from?”

He turned around again, but kept walking backward. “New Jehhh-sey,” he said. Then he took off with his friends.

Erika looked deflated. All the guy had really wanted was a light. Erika's whole body seemed to sink in her seat. Gert felt sorry for her.

“I need chocolate,” Erika said. “And give me another graham.”

“None left,” Hallie said.

Erika dug into her pocketbook for eleven dollars.

“S
o,” Gert said, laughing during dinner, “the guy with the clipboard wouldn't even let us up the stairs.”

She and Todd were on their second date, at a restaurant in Little Italy. Gert had never actually been in Little Italy before, although she'd certainly heard good things. She was sure that if she stayed in New York for another eight years, she still wouldn't get to all the neighborhoods. Two months ago, in fact, she had visited Columbia University for a focus group on women who had lost a spouse, and she was amazed at what she saw when she wandered a few blocks north to 122nd and Broadway: To her left, a verdant park that held Grant's Tomb, and ahead of her, the part of the subway where it exploded up into an elevated line bedizened with lights. On both sides were Gothic buildings and grassy fields and backpacking students, and it looked completely different than only fifteen blocks earlier. Tonight, she'd felt the same way when she'd started following Todd's directions to Little Italy. She'd begun to doubt them, because up until the last block, she'd been surrounded by the stores and unintelligible signs of Chinatown. Then she'd turned a cor
ner and been thrust into a wonderland of bright lights, iron balconies, roaring laughter and rich tomato smells.

Todd smiled while Gert talked about her friends. He was a great listener. Better than anyone she'd met in a while. It was refreshing to talk to someone who didn't know anything about her, who didn't pass judgment or cut her off. He seemed genuinely interested.

She thought about how Marc used to tell her about his day. She'd always listened to his adventures in pursuing clients. He was the consummate salesman. She loved watching him relish the chase.

“I know Hallie and Erika are your friends,” Todd said, “but it seems like there's a tension between you.”

Gert found it interesting that she'd been on only two dates with him and he'd already picked up on that. “I have more friends, but they're in other parts of the country,” she said apologetically. “I probably should make more of an effort to understand Hallie and Erika. It's just that they get so crazy about everything, especially dating. They analyze every aspect of it to death. And they get jealous of people in good relationships, too.”

Todd was wearing a soft sweater. Gert figured he'd gotten it as a gift once from a girl. Most of the men she knew tended to prefer button-down shirts that were comfortable and easy to clean.

“You seem more easygoing than they are,” Todd said.

“Yeah, well,” Gert said. She knew guys liked that about her, but she suddenly felt modest. “I don't want to bore you all night with my sad, sad stories of my sad, sad friends.”

“I don't mind,” he said, arranging his fork and knife. “Talk about whatever you want.”

The waiter came with their waters. They passed on drinks and said they needed a few more minutes to look at the menu.

Gert remembered that Hallie had told her to make sure she didn't just talk about herself on a date. “So,” she said to Todd, “what's new with you since we last met?”

Hallie was right, Gert could tell. Todd leaned back. “Let's see,” he said. “Since I last had the very distinct pleasure of being in your company—” Gert couldn't help but smile “—I got one raise, one invitation to a friend's wedding and one rent increase.”

“That's great!” Gert said. “I mean, about the raise. Not the rent increase.” She raised her empty wineglass. “To the raise.”

Todd clinked it with his empty glass. “To the raise.”

Gert put her glass down and said, “You must be doing a good job, if they gave you a raise.”

“Nah.” Todd shrugged. “It's mandatory after a certain point. It's not a big deal.”

“But they still wouldn't give it to you if you weren't doing a good job, right?”

“Right,” Todd said.

“So I'm sure you deserved it,” Gert said.

“Thanks.” He looked bashful. She liked that he could be bashful. That, and the tiny scar on the bridge of his nose.

“I guess the raise will all go to counteract the rent increase, though,” Gert said.

“Not all of it,” Todd said. “Some of it will go to counteract my friend's wedding present.”

“Who's your friend?”

“Howie Wald,” Todd said. “We went to sleep-away camp together the summer before sixth grade.”

The mention of a wedding reminded Gert about Michael's wedding. There was so much about her that Todd didn't know. Couldn't know yet. It seemed nearly insurmountable. But it was something she'd have to deal with. She'd have to explain her past to every new person she met…eventually.

Gert tried to remember what Todd had just been talking about. Oh—sleep-away camp. “That's cute that you still talk to your elementary school friends,” she said.

Todd looked a little embarrassed again—probably because she had called him cute—which was, well, cute.

“You still talk to one of
your
elementary school friends,” Todd said.

“Yeah,” Gert said. “But not so much, anymore. Since she got married and had kids.”

Todd shook his head. “Married people,” he said. “You have to give up on them. They get married and disappear down their gopher holes.”

“I wouldn't disappear,” she said, careful not to give anything away.

Todd smiled. “You know what?” he said. “I believe you wouldn't.”

She felt undeserving of the faith. She had actually disappeared somewhat.

“I can't blame them, though,” Todd added. “If you have a wife and kids to take care of, the last thing you want to be doing is hanging out with your pals, drinking beer and quoting
Caddyshack.
” He looked at her. “Tell me something great that happened to
you
this week.”

She wanted to think of something. But she couldn't.
He's going to think I'm boring,
she thought.
This is hard. Think of something.

“I…I haven't really done anything,” Gert stammered.

“Come on,” Todd said. “I'll bet you're one of those people who does lots of great things and never tells anyone.”

Gert smiled.

“It seems like you're very, very patient with your friends,” Todd said. “Treating people with respect is something a person should be proud of.”

It had been a long time since anyone had complimented Gert on just being herself. “Thanks,” she said.

“What about your boss?” Todd asked. “You said she's hard to deal with. Did you get through the week without her yelling at you?”

“She was away.”

“So, yes.”

“No. She called to yell at me. But other than that, work was fine.”

“Well, here's an accomplishment,” he said. “You were willing to see me again, goofy train guy.”

“You're not
that
goofy,” Gert said.

“Sure I am.”

“Come on,” Gert said. “I'll bet that what you said about me is true of you—you do lots of nice things and never tell anyone.”

Todd said, “I do.” He reached across the table, took her hand, and kissed it. “I'm not going to tell anyone about that.”

“So that was our secret?” she asked.

“Yes.”

The waitress appeared and startled them. But Gert was a bit relieved, because she was unsure what to do next. What if he wanted to give her a real kiss, later? Could she do it?

What scared her a little bit was, she thought she could.

 

As they ate, Todd told her about his hometown—Emporia, in southern Virginia near the North Carolina border. It had train tracks running through it, which maybe had been the first thing that made him like trains. When he was a kid, he'd found a cache there of old receipts from a railroad company. He still had them. They were on very thin forms, filled in by a typewriter. He liked collecting old train memorabilia.

Gert told him what it was like to go to high school in the suburbs of L.A.

“There must have been a lot of competition for school plays,” Todd said.

Gert said there was, but she wasn't into acting, although she had been in the chorus in
West Side Story.
She asked Todd if he'd ever been in a school play. He said he'd been in
Oliver!
in seventh grade.

“I had no lines,” he said. “Everyone in my music class was in the play. So I told my parents not to bother coming. But they came anyway. And you know what? When I looked out and saw them there, for some reason, I was really glad they were there. Is that weird?”

“No,” Gert said.

“I think it's one of the biggest signs of caring,” Todd said,
“when you tell people not to do something for you, and they do it anyway. We did this other thing in school that year, a trip to Williamsburg, and both my parents agreed to chaperon…”

Gert liked watching him talk. She didn't even hear everything that he was saying. She just liked the way he said it—always so full of enthusiasm, so unaffected. When he got into a story, he'd start talking faster, full of intensity, and then, when he finally stopped, he'd look a little guilty—as if he'd taken too much liberty. But he was clearly moved by the little things.

“It's interesting that both of us have parents who are still together,” Gert said.

“I know,” Todd said. “I guess we must be better adjusted than most kids.”

Gert smiled. “I wonder what the secret is for people to stay together.”

“I'm not sure,” Todd said, “but it probably has to do with finding someone who really, really amazes you.”

 

As they were walking back to the subway, he stopped her and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I'm glad I met you,” he said.

“Me, too,” she said.

“Do you want…I mean, if you're not busy…to do something next weekend?”

“Sure.”

 

“He just gave you a quick kiss?”

Gert was having drinks with Hallie and Erika at the small café that was attached to the Cinema Classics theater in the East Village. It was the theater that showed
The Wizard of Oz
once a month at the same time as it played Pink Floyd's
Dark Side of the Moon
album, to allow people to decide if the rumor was true that they were in sync. Gert and Marc had gone one time when Gert's brother was visiting, and Gert hadn't been convinced, but the guys liked the music so they'd stayed for the whole thing. Three hours of watching
The Wiz
ard of Oz
with no dialogue at all, just Pink Floyd music, was a little much for Gert. She knew that Floyd was high in the male music canon, but that didn't mean she wanted to listen to it for three hours while watching a bunch of dwarves wave their lollipops.

“And,” Hallie asked, “how was the kiss?”

“It was nice,” Gert said. “He's just the sweetest guy.”

Erika stirred the leftover ice in her margarita glass with a straw. “What happens if you order your drink without ice?” she asked. “There was more ice in our drinks than drink.”

“They only give you like half the drink,” Hallie said. “It doesn't work. So when are you going to see him next?”

“Next Saturday, for dinner,” Gert said.

“And
after
dinner what are you doing?” Erika asked.

“Probably a movie.”

Gert was more nervous about that, because she wasn't sure what was expected on a third date in the real world.

Erika raised and lowered her eyebrows.

“Well, I know you think he's sweet,” Hallie said, “but be careful.”

“Yeah, Gert,” Erika said. “Have you even Googled him yet?”

“No,” Gert said. She felt like that was intrusive.

“I was supposed to go on a date with this guy once,” Erika said, “but first, I Googled him. I found out that there were fifteen posts on www.spankme.com.”

“It was lucky you Googled in time,” Hallie said.

“Why? We dated for three months.”

Gert looked around the room. It was small and rectangular, with a few refrigerators full of bottled juices. Free weekly newspapers were piled by the window in front.

“Hey!” Erika said to Hallie. “When are you going to tell us your top secret innovative method of meeting men?”

Hallie looked startled. “Oh,” she said. “Well, I can tell you now, if you promise not to tell anyone.”

Gert looked at her, interested. She hoped Hallie
could
use it to meet someone. Then Hallie wouldn't be so angry.

Hallie looked at the ceiling. “I thought of this while I was walking through Times Square one day,” she said. “This guy was about to pass me, and he was carrying a bunch of advertising storyboards, and he was just the right height, and he seemed interesting. There was just something about him I really liked. Just this instant attraction. And I thought of something to say to him, but he had walked past me already, and I couldn't think of a way to do it. And I thought, if I was a guy and he was a girl, I'd just jog up and ask for his number, and that would be it.”

“Exactly,” Erika said, setting her jaw, as if she'd been burned about this for a while. She tucked a wisp of her hair behind her ear. “So? What do we do?”

“One day,” Hallie said resolutely, “we're going to take matters into our own hands.”

Gert cautiously sipped her Coke.

“The three of us are going to hang out in Times Square, and if we see a man we think is attractive, we'll go up together and ask if he's single,” Hallie said. “Then we'll get his number. That's it.”

Something honest!
Gert thought.
Daring, but honest. But is there a catch?

“The reason that dating is so frustrating,” Hallie opined, “is that when men ask us out, they already know they're attracted to us, so they've already gotten past a big step. We, on the other hand, are the ones being asked, so we're not always attracted to them right away. We have to sit at the table waiting for some sort of feelings to kick in. And if they don't, the guys gets mad. Why do men always get to make the choices?”