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Fiction Short Story

by  Wayne Scheer

First Date

They met at Maglio's. Ellen arrived just a few minutes after eight, wearing her new red dress, just as she promised. To Jason's surprise, she was far prettier than her picture.

He could feel himself perspire. Nothing more disgusting, he thought, than a fat man with armpit stains. She had described herself in three months of emails as shy and uncomfortable with people she didn't know. But she readily agreed to meet him when he finally dared ask her.

He tried sounding confident and encouraging in his emails. He was also careful to send her a headshot taken more than two years ago, before the breakup of his fourteen-year marriage and before he put on the extra forty pounds.

As Ellen approached the bar where they agreed to meet, he stood up and pulled his belt over his belly. She smiled. But he sensed disappointment. Something in the way her eyes narrowed gave her away.

In her photo, she wore glasses. He wondered if she was wearing contacts.

"Ellen?" He held out his hand, hoping his palm wasn't sweaty. "It's good to finally meet you."

Her smile seemed genuine, but he still had his doubts. She told him how happy she was to meet him, too. They found a table after she explained that she didn't drink. Jason heard himself talking too fast, but he couldn't stop. He wanted to impress her. On email, he had time to compose his thoughts. He'd always been a better writer than a conversationalist. He remembered the long letters he used to write Mindy when he was in college. That's what made her fall in love with him, she used to say. It was easy for him to share his feelings on paper, to joke and make witty observations. He wanted so desperately to do it now.

Instead, he heard himself repeat the same jokes he had made electronically. Ellen still laughed, but he felt they were just perfunctory LOLs.

When they told the waiter they didn't want wine, he brought menus with water and a basket of garlic rolls. Jason devoured a roll as the waiter described the night's special, a sea bass baked in parchment, with a side of vegetables or pasta. She said the fish sounded delicious, and chose the vegetables as her side dish.

Jason ordered veal parmigiana with double linguini. When the waiter left, Ellen said, "I feel like I know you so well. I knew that was what you would order. You once told me how much you enjoyed the parmigiana here and how you always double the side pasta." Jason wondered if this was her polite way of reminding him of his weight problem.

"You should try some. Put some meat on your bones." He saw a slight blush in her cheeks. What a dumb thing to say, he thought. "You look fine," he added too quickly. "Especially in your new dress."

She laughed, saying it was all right. "I do need to gain a few pounds."

This would be the time to encourage her to talk about herself. "How's your mother?" he finally asked. "You said she was having problems breathing. I remember when my mother...Did I tell you she died of congestive heart failure?"

"Yes, you did."

Jason wanted to kick himself. Her mother is still in the early stages of the disease and here he is talking about death. What a jerk! No wonder Mindy left him for Al Hermanski. Fourteen years of marriage and two children, and she tells him she doesn't love him anymore. She moves out with the children and even takes the dog. Then she wants a divorce so she can marry Hermanski.

Jason grabbed another roll, soaking up as much oil and garlic as he could before consuming it in two bites.

Ellen spoke about her job as an editor for a gardening newsletter. The work was boring, she told him, just as she had in emails. "How many articles on the benefits of composting can a person read?"

Jason nodded and laughed, although he remembered her writing this in an email. Soon he was talking about his least favorite subject: his job. "I can't imagine ever thinking selling insurance was what I wanted to do with my life. But it paid well, and I had a family to support." He looked at Ellen. "I guess if you share it with someone, it's not so bad. It's when you're alone, and you have nothing but your job, that you realize how miserable you are." He resisted the urge to reach for another roll.

Before she could respond, the waiter appeared with their food. Jason watched Ellen pick at her fish while he dove into his parmigiana and pasta. She doesn't like the food, he thought. Or the company. "Is the fish all right?"

"Yes, its delicious. I just tend to eat slowly. But I enjoy watching you eat with such gusto."

"Sorry," he said. "I guess I'm not used to eating with someone anymore. I mean, I eat with my children, but that's more like a race than a meal."

"No, no," she said, reaching out and caressing the back of his hand.

He resisted the urge to take her hand in his. She was probably just being kind.

Jason stared at her lips as she spoke. Full, round lips, much fuller than Mindy's. Her dress revealed a little cleavage, but he remained intrigued with her mouth. He felt perspiration tickle his forehead.

The fat man is sweating, he thought. Very attractive. Still, Ellen smiled. Was she just feigning interest as he spoke of his children and how he called them everyday to say he loved them, even though at twelve and ten, he knew they're rolling their eyes? "I swear I can see it through the phone. Lainie, the older one, makes her eyes almost pop out and kind of tilts her head while swallowing her lips. Doug, he just puffs up his cheeks and blows while raising his eyeballs to the sky. But I don't care. I want them to know I love them."

"That's obvious. You write about them all the time. I think its wonderful that you have such a close relationship with your children, despite the...um...troubles." She looked away.

"The divorce has been rough on all of us, but the kids are doing fine." He hesitated, wondering if he should continue. "I'm the one. I mean, I've gained so much weight."

"You look fine," she said. "Frankly, I was expecting you to look like a Sumo wrestler, judging from your emails." She smiled and squeezed his hand.

He shared his dream of writing a novel. "I have a plot worked out," he told her. "An insurance fraud scheme in a small town. Most of the town is in on it. The plan is hatched at a public zoning hearing. It's based loosely on an actual case I once worked on."

"I could help you edit it," she offered, her voice rising. Now she was talking fast. "I'd love to do something other than check the correct spelling of parthenocissus quinquefolia. And you're such a wonderful writer." For a moment, Jason grew excited about working with her. Then he feared she was only being polite.

They finished dinner as Ellen spoke more freely about her past. She had been engaged to a man named Clarence, but her mother didn't approve. Eventually, he broke it off when Ellen told him she couldn't move far from her mother.

"My father died when I was six and she raised me by herself. How could I ever abandon her?"

"I respect that," Jason said. "It's rare to find that kind of devotion nowadays. My mother moved in with us toward the end of her life." Jason watched Ellen dab at her eyes.

"I hardly ever wear my contacts," she said. "I'm not used to them anymore."

Now Jason squeezed her hand. She didn't want dessert, which Jason took to mean she wanted to go home. "Well, I have an early meeting tomorrow anyway. Maybe we should call it a night." He wanted so badly to kiss her. Instead, he began to stand up.

"Maybe we could stay a little longer and have coffee?" she whispered.

"They do make a good cappuccino. And it goes well with their New York cheese cake." He sat back down.

"We could share it," she said.


About the Author
Wayne Scheer retired after twenty-five years of teaching writing in college to follow his own advice and write. Recent work has appeared in The Christian Science Monitor, The Pedestal Magazine, Cynic Magazine, River Walk Journal and Humor Press. His writing awards include a Pushcart Prize nomination. Wayne lives in Atlanta with his wife, and he can be contacted at wvscheer@aol.com.