"And you're what? Gourmet I suppose?"
Damn. "Well..."
"Just because you cover your pizzas in arugula and other fancy shit doesn't make you better than us, Eric."
"I don't think we're better than you." Though I did really. The Dive Bar was a work of art. In comparison, the diner had all the style and atmosphere of a hot dog stand. "Calm down."
"Not everyone wants to hang out with hipsters."
"Hey, now. We're not--"
"Whatever," she snapped, obviously done with this line of conversation. Which was fine with me, given I didn't want to get into a fight about the relative merits of our workplaces. "Is this food you're talking about going to come soon? I've only got an hour before I'm meeting a friend at the gym."
"You're meeting someone else tonight?"
"In an hour, yes." She nodded. "So every minute we spend sitting here is one minute that we're not..." Her voice trailed off suggestively.
I smiled. And then remembered that screwing her was not the goal here. "Maybe we should just enjoy a nice meal now and reschedule for a time later this week?"
"I don't want to reschedule," she retorted. "If you're not in the mood, then whatever. But did it even occur to you to call me and let me know that you wanted to change things up?"
"No." I shrugged. "I figured you'd be pleasantly surprised. Chicks dig romantic dinners. Everyone knows that."
"Funnily enough, women aren't that big on being called chicks."
"Right," I said. "My mistake."
She crossed her arms, glaring at me.
"So, who are you meeting at the gym?" I asked. "Anyone I know?"
"One of the girls from work."
"Great." Fake smiling made my cheeks ache. "What else do you do when you're not working or hitting the gym?"
"When the weather's good I like to go hiking and I help out with a youth group at the church," she said. "I visit friends and I'm also a member of a knitting group. Right now we're working on blankets for the children's ward at the hospital."
"Wow."
"Grandpa has chronic arthritis so I often hop over to his place to help out. Make some meals for him or just hang out and watch documentaries. He loves that English guy, David Attenborough." She stared off at nothing. "And I watch my nephews some nights so my brother and his wife can go out."
"Huh. You really do a lot."
She shrugged. "I keep busy. What about you?"
"I work here of course." I nodded, trying to think of what else apart from women occupied my time. Something that would compare to Karen's achievements. "Yeah, a lot of the time you can find me here at the bar. Really just ... working, you know?"
"And?" she asked, eyes glazing over.
"Okay. Well, I hang out with friends."
Nothing from her.
"Yeah." Shit. "Oh, often Joe and I go jogging. There's that too."
"Uh-huh."
And all conversation ground to a halt once again. We both just stared at each other while all around us the world carried on. Music played and people talked. People who actually had a lot to say to each other, I guess.
Karen set her hands to the edge of the table. "This isn't working."
"No, this is great."
"Eric, we've been bumping hips on and off for years and you've never felt the need to ask me a personal question," she pointed out. "Why now?"
I raised my chin. "Better late than never, right?"
"Wrong."
"But--"
"Enough, I have to go." The woman jumped to her feet in exasperation, making her chair skid back noisily, drawing plenty of attention. "I knew this was a bad idea. We have sex sometimes, Eric. That's all. We don't talk."
"But we could!" I stood up as well, just trying to usher her back to sitting. We could at least do this without causing a scene.
Her whole face screwed up. "What we have is just fine."
"Sure, yeah. I just thought..."
"What? You thought what?"
"Well, don't you want maybe something more?"
"No, Eric. God, do I have to spell it out?" Her gaze zeroed in on me. "We're boring each other stupid. And even if we did have stuff to talk about, I don't want a guy like you for a boyfriend. In a couple of days, you'd have changed your mind, gotten distracted or whatever. You're just not boyfriend material."
And with that, she stormed out. Awesome.
Meanwhile, Rosie stood nearby with her pen and pad in hand. Because more witnesses to my humiliation would just be wonderful. The shit Karen had said echoed round and round inside my head. How wrong could one woman be? Just because she crocheted socks for orphans or whatever. I could totally be a decent boyfriend. With a little practice.
"Bit too late for that," I said, nodding at her order pad and slumping back down into my chair.
"Sorry." Her mouth skewed, dark skin glowing in the candlelight. "Date didn't go so well?"
"What gave it away?" I growled.
"Being an ass to me will help you how, exactly?"
"Sorry, Rosie." I slipped my hand underneath my long hair, rubbing at my neck. "Maybe they're right. Maybe I am just shit at this and everything else."
She sighed and took the newly vacant seat opposite me. "Nell's been at you again, huh?"
I didn't even bother to answer.
"I thought she'd eased up since you started turning up for your shifts on time."
"She did. A little."
"You know, she loves you, Eric," she said. "You're like family to her. She just has a difficult way of showing it."
"Like ripping into me?" I slouched back in the chair. "Bitch of it is that everyone agrees with her. They all treat me like I'm the idiot child obsessed with pussy."
"So prove them wrong. If it bothers you, do something about it."
My forehead wrinkled.
"Though changing just to prove someone else wrong is kind of stupid," she said, chewing at her bottom lip. "You have to want to do it for your own happiness."
"Fuck. I don't know what I want."
"Well, are you happy?"
"I thought I was, until everyone kept pointing out how crappy I am," I said.
Rosie might have been the same age as me, but she'd been married for years and had about three dozen children or something. Don't ask me how she managed it all. If anyone was going to give me advice worth listening to, however, it would likely be her. So I stayed put. Nearby, Lydia handed out meals to a table while Vaughan stayed busy at the bar.
"You could keep cruising along," she said. "W
orking here, picking up women, and spending all of your money on nice clothes."
"Hey," I objected. "I paid my brother back the money I owed him. Downgraded from a very sweet muscle car to a piece of shit to do it too."
"Good for you."
"There's nothing wrong with wanting to look presentable." With a hand, I smoothed out the creases on my plain white button-down. Designer, of course. Quality mattered. Some fuckers wouldn't know good design and fabric if it smacked them in the face. "I stick to my budget. Lydia helped me work one out a while back."
"That's great. Very adult of you."
"Why thank you."
For a minute, she mused this over, staring at me. "Do you want to know what I think?"
"No one else holds back. Why the hell should you?"
She gave me a mysterious smile. Like she knew everything, while I knew nothing. I could have pretty much already told her that.
"There's no such thing as becoming an adult. It's all a state of mind," she said, leaning closer across the table. "You never reach some magical age and go ... oh my god, I'm so adult. I couldn't be more grown-up if I tried."
I chuckled. "No?"
"Nope."
"How does this whole life thing work then, oh wise woman?"
"You get your shit together and meet your responsibilities," she said.
"Huh."
"A century ago, everyone knew how they were expected to behave and if you stepped over the line, that was it. You were out. But things are different now." She stared me down, gaze deadly serious. "People are more open minded, mostly. Though quite a few could do with a healthy dose of personal growth and empathy in my opinion. But we have so many options, there's so many things we could do with our lives. Honestly, it can get a little confusing."
I kept my mouth shut because she wasn't wrong.
"Be kind and if you say you're going to do something, make sure you do it." She sat back in the chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "Do with that what you will."
"Basically, don't be an asshole and pay my bills on time?"
"Yep."
"And that's the path to happiness?" I asked.
Rosie frowned. "Not exactly. That's probably the path to getting everyone off your back, though. As for all the ladies..."
"Sex is a perfectly normal and healthy pastime."
"True. But you should respect the women you sleep with."
"Come on, I do," I complained.
"Do you really?"
"Yes." I waved an arm at the door my date had just exited. "As Karen just demonstrated."
"The girl who stormed out in a huff just demonstrated you respect women?" Her eyebrows arched. "How do you figure that?"