Night in the Ruts

I'm Not Really Sure if this is a Date or Not and I'm too Scared to Ask--Steven

The restaurant I chose was right on the river, a little ways away from her house.  We chose our seats at a table right next to the large windows that gave us an excellent view of the river and its surrounding scenery.  The walls were papered in white with pink and purple-y flowers, the floor was a greasy deep, deep blue.  The tables were maroon.  Charlie slid off her jacket self-consciously.  I kept mine on.

        Charlie started nervous-blabbing.  I was about to do the same thing.  Thank God she saved me.  "I've never actually been here, but I've driven past it quite a few times.  I always would think, This is the place where everyone gets their pizza for parties, but now here I am and it's even nicer than I thought...

        "We didn't have to come here, you know," she continues.  "There's plenty of pizza joints and other cheaper restaurants that won't make you cut off a limb to pay for your meal."  She paused, looking into my eyes.

        After a second of being unsure what to do, I smiled.  "It's not a problem," I said truthfully.  She looked at me skeptically.  "Really," I assured her, then added with a smirk, "it's not that big a deal: I don't really need my left arm.  And it's not expensive."  Really, it's not.  It's certainly not cheap for what I'm used to, but definitely not expensive.  It's a pizza place, for crying out loud.

        She smiles shyly, ears turning a bit pink.  I think I might go crazy, though.  The beer was like a million dollars per bottle, and Charlie refused to drink any anyway.  We settled for two Cokes (though I pulled the waiter aside and told him to 'spice mine up' a bit).

        He read us the specials, but it was more directed to Charlie, which made me want to put my arms around her and hold her hand to make a point to the guy.

        When he walked away and my silent fit of seething was over, I glanced up at her.  She was staring at me, but quickly looked away.  Why the fuck is this so weird?

        "So," I began, grimacing because that's such an awkward word.  Charlie grimaced, too, I think.  "What'll it be?" I ask, "Anchovies, mushrooms, onions, what?"

        She giggled a little when I made a face for anchovies.

        "Well," she started slowly.  She winced.  I guess well is an awkward word, too.  "Since I don't see any offerings for Spaghettios..."  That made me laugh.  I don't know why, though.  But she sighs all of a sudden.  "I don't know; are you sure it's okay?" she asks.

        I lean forward so that I'm on the edge of my chair.  "Yes.  It's okay.  Get whatever."  I smile, hoping she'll return it because I love her smile.  Thankfully, she does.

        And so, when the waiter returns, we order our food, and talk some more while we wait.  I found that the more we talk, the more comfortable she seems.  I had a feeling she was a rather comical person, and the more I get to know her, the more right I seem.

        However I still know nothing about her.  She seems confused when I voice this opinion.  "Okay, fine," I admit, taking a sip of the Coke that I made the waiter put some whiskey in, "you like Janis Joplin, you love Aerosmith, you like me–" she laughed a little bit.  Yes, I'm making fun of her use of the word like "–and... That's about it.  Other than your name, Charlie Flannery."

        The red she had turned when I said the thing about liking me deepened at the mention of her name.  I paid no mind, but decided to fire off questions.  At the mention of her last name, I thought of her mom.  Not like that, but now that's been mentioned, I was wondering where mister Flannery was during the little episode.  And where her wedding ring went.