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It was too late. A 1965 blue Mustang pulled up behind me. I could feel the rumble of the engine vibrate through me. I hadn’t been in one of those since I was a teenager. I was so absorbed in checking out the car that I never even noticed the driver who had gotten out. Robert’s voice snapped me out of my daydream of climbing in and taking it for a ride.
“I know the mileage, Ken,” he said, tossing the keys to the valet. “Don’t even think about taking it for a joyride tonight.”
He caught my eye and walked over to me. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
“No, I just arrived myself. Nice car,” I said.
“Thanks. Maybe after dinner, you’d like to go for a ride,” he said.
“In the driver’s or passenger’s seat?” I joked.
“Can you drive a stick shift?” he asked.
Grinning, I replied, “Of course.”
“Guess we’ll see after dinner.” He offered me his arm and asked, “Shall we?”
I was no longer interested in dinner, now that the chance to drive that car was on the table. But no matter how badly I wanted it, I would not get behind that wheel. I knew I could handle it - I’d driven muscle cars before. But I was not here to build a stronger connection with Robert. I was here to put an end to the one I thought we once had.
We went inside and the hostess waved to us. “Robert, your table is ready.”
I wasn’t expecting them to call him by name. I wonder how many women he’s brought here? Instantly I became angry with myself for even caring. This isn’t a date. I had to keep reminding myself, because it kind of felt like one.
She seated us and handed me a menu, but none to Robert. I looked at him and said, “Let me guess, you’ve memorized the menu by heart.”
“Something like that,” he stated.
I was right. He frequented this place a lot.
“Then I guess you can recommend something for me?” I asked.
“What do you like? Everything here is good,” he stated.
“They really must love you here if you brag about their food to everyone,” I smiled.
“It wouldn’t do me any good to do otherwise,” he stated.
True. “What are you having?”
“Probably clams casino or maybe lobster bisque.”
“The best lobster bisque I’ve ever had was in York Beach, Maine.”
“You’ve never had this one,” he smiled.
I closed the menu and said, “I guess I’ll have to compare them tonight.” I gave the waitress my menu and provided her with my order.
She turned to Robert and asked, “The usual for you?”
“Yes.” He looked at me and asked, “Wine?”
“No, thank you. I have a long drive home and wine makes me…tired.” It also makes me horny, but he didn’t need that information.
“And this is why you should’ve allowed me to pick you up,” he stated.
“Or I can just not drink,” I replied. I enjoyed some pampering every once in a while, but I valued my independence and had worked hard to show that I didn’t need a man or anyone else to take care of me.
The waitress scurried off and within moments, returned with our bisque. I’d never seen such fast service.
