Chapter 3

Tommy’s turn:

“You could already call what we’re doing ‘dating’,” Mimi said.

“I know, but naming a thing carries some effect. I mean, one, we’re just a couple of friends going out to eat or to hang out. Dating, though, that means something different. More of a connection.”

“And you’re saying that you’re okay with that? With me?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Thomas,” she said sternly, “you’re a nice guy. I’m...”

“Mimi, let’s not go there. I know. You’ve told me. You know what? As long as you were, in your words, in the business, it couldn’t’ve been that many. I know girls who’ve done more than THAT for nineteen different reasons, none of which was “Oh, crap! How can I survive?” So let’s put that into perspective.”

“Wow! You rolled that right out. You’ve thought about this.”

“I have.”

“You’ve thought about me.”

“Yeah, I have. You’re interesting, and you’re here. So I sort of analyze things.”

“This is a date, then,” she stated. “As redneck as hell, though...”

“Redneck?”

“Yeah, ‘cuz next week you’re taking me to a clinic to be checked for STDs. Now all you need to do is sit in the parkin’ lot drinkin’ beer while I’m in my court-ordered AA meetings.”

“I haven’t seen you drink so much as a beer, Mimi,” I said. “I offered...”

“First, if I’m eighteen, then I’m under age in this state. Second, I tried it. Don’t like it. Just like drugs. There’s something about NOT being in control...”

“You’ve said that before,” I answered.

We pulled into a parking slot in the burger joint parking lot. She bounced out of the SUV faster than me, stood there expectant, looking like any of a million college girls, yet with an aura of uniqueness. I shook my head. I’m not supposed to be doing this, ‘this’ being starting to think things – future things.

Our burgers were good. The shelter had given her a little stipend that she offered to use to pay for her own food, but I argued successfully against that.

“If you pay for it, that makes it either a business transaction or a date,” she said, as I signed the ticket.

“Since we’re not doing business of any sort, that limits our position, then, doesn’t it.” I think I smiled. I know she did.

Walking out to the car... “Movie?”

“Nothing really good playing. I never warmed to comic books,” she said.

“Me neither,” I replied, “But I wasn’t taking you there to expand your mind. I just don’t have another destination in mind...”

“Then you pick. You’re a weird date.” She got in the car. Inside, “Isn’t the conventional approach more of ‘promise the stars and deliver a lightbulb’?”

I told her what movie I had in mind. “And I’d rather promise mediocrity and over-deliver.”

“You’re a nut,” she laughed.

“Gets you smiling,” I grinned. “Sort of the point.”

“Why?”

“You’re smart and funny and immensely better than sitting at home binge-watching NetFlix.”

“Glad you think so.”

We worked our way into the theater with a small herd, it being a weeknight, found a couple of seats midway back, and settled in.

Settled. As in I didn’t have to insinuate my arm around her. She just sort of scooted next to me, raising the arm between our seats, and nestled. I liked it. That night when I dropped her off, that was the first kiss.

“Thank you, Tommy,” she said. “You’re a rare friend.”

I drove home, thinking that here I was, ‘friend’ again. So Saturday I was bringing a ‘friend’ on a date to the pavilion.

Okay, Tommy, time to examine your motives. Are you doing this because YOU have something in mind in your carefully practiced, patented, ‘move slow until they trip over you’ technique, with its 0% success rate? Or are you practicing that religion you spent a childhood worth of Sundays learning? Or are you ... what the hell ARE you doing?

So I talked with Nikki, a trustworthy counsellor, in my opinion. “Bring ‘er,” Nikki said. “We have a way of letting people fit in.”

“I’ll pick you up at lunch,” I told Mimi. “Don’t eat. After one of these things, you may never eat again.”

“What do I wear?”

“What you normally wear when we hang out.”

“Will I fit in? I don’t want to be an outsider?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” I said. “There’s always an open invitation. People from work, people from college, friends, whoever ... You’ll fit in.”

“Are you sure, Tommy? I mean, I’m not a worker or a student or whatever...”

“You’re my date. My friend. I want you there with me.”

“When you put it like that...”

When I pulled up in front of the women’s shelter Saturday morning, she was waiting. She bounced up and got into the car wearing a comfy-looking pair of jeans, some new athletic cross-trainers and a loose sweatshirt, concession to the cool temperatures.

“Well?” she said. “Acceptable? Or do I need to change?”

“You look like any of the girls we’ll be meeting today,” I said. “Practical. Let your face speak for you.”

“I’m not much for make-up. I thought you figured that out by now.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. I was thinking that maybe you were marshalling your funds...”

“Oh, yeah ... Denizens of women’s shelters are all about financial choices.”

“Don’t be mean,” I said. “I’m not a big fan of all that goop anyway. But no. You’ll see that most of the females you’ll meet today are of similar opinion. And your face is more than adequate.”

“I’ve always wanted to be adequate,” she smirked.

“Oh, dammit! You know what I mean – what I’m trying to say.”

“I know, and I shouldn’t mess with you like that. I always thought I was kind of plain.”

“I hold my own opinion, Mimi.”

“I think you do. So let’s go see these other women and what their deal is.”

“Their deal is friends and family.”

“And I’m neither.”

“I’m a friend. You’re a friend by association.”

“Oh. So now I’m an associate.” She watched my face. Giggled. “I don’t know what makes me like this ... You don’t have your shields up.”

“I’m not used to riding around with a nutcase...”

“I’m wounded,” she smirked.

I like this. Every time we get together, she’s a little more relaxed, more open, and just maybe she’s letting the real personality shine through.

“‘Sides, you ... Associate...”

“Friend,” I affirmed. “I’m not lying, you know...”

“No, you’re not. Been a long, long time since I had a friend like you – that wasn’t in it for something else...”

“Oh, I’m in it for something else,” I replied.

Her eyes flashed. “What?!?”

“Friendship. You’re turning out to be a pretty neat friend. If today doesn’t convince you of my total hopelessness, then we’re another step closer...” And my head asked me ‘Closer to what?’

We pulled into a parking spot and got out by 3Sigma’s pavilion. I’ve been here quite a few times. It’s wonderful having a job that’s as much friends and family as it is coworkers. The place is a bit surreal, though. There’s a mechanical buzz overhead, thrumming because it’s THREE airplanes, ultralights, flying in loose formation. There’s a fourth one under construction in a hangar over there.

I pointed those out to Mimi. “My boss is probably flying one of those. The green and magenta one.”

“I thought you said your boss was twelve.”

“She is. C’mon. Let’s go meet people.”

“You’re awfully anxious to bring me in on this...”

“I wanna see what they’re cooking,” I said. “I smell barbecue.”

“I smell it, too ... What’s it cost?”

“Nothing!” I blurted. “The company sort of keeps a bit aside for these things.” We walked into the shaded area of the pavilion. Cindy hit us first.

“Hey, Tommy! Glad you decided to make it.” She smiled at Mimi. “I’m Cindy. You’re...”

“Mimi. Mikayla Gundresen.”

“My friend Mimi that I’ve been talking about,” I said.

“Glad you brought Mimi,” Cindy said. “We’ve been wondering ... Mimi, enjoy yourself. You’re not a stranger here.” And she bounced off.

Mimi looked at me when Cindy got out of range. “THAT girl’s bouncing around here and you brought ME?”

“Whadya mean?”

“Red hair. Green eyes ... I wish I looked like that...”

“Oh, Cindy’s a cutie,” I said. “But you’re no slouch, you know...”

“Brown hair. Brown eyes.”

“Single. Cindy’s very married. That’s her husband over there with the tongs.” I pointed to Dan Richards. “He’s an engineer. One of the founders of the company.”

“Oh.”

“C’mon. Let’s see if we can scab a sample off ‘im.”

I introduced Mimi to Dan 1.0 and 2.0 both.

“That’s funny,” she said, “numbering them.”

“1.0 belongs to Cindy. 2.0 belongs to Nikki. That’s her over there – the dark-headed brunette. She’s talking to Tina. That’s Alan and Tina’s daughter, Kathy. The blonde is Susan. Her husband’s an...”

“Engineer,” Mimi finished. “I see a pattern here.”

“All three of those women are, too. Nikki’s got a PhD in physics, too. So does Cindy.”

“Brains. Looks. Brains. Education.” She sighed. “You hang out with these people, Tommy. What am I doing here?”

“You’re my date, remember?”

“Oh, yeah...” The look on her face was less than confident, though.

Truth is, she wasn’t the only single girl there. One of the female engineers was there, too – Amy Tran, with a date as well. Amy’s cute as hell, bright, too. 3Sigma’s not known to hire the stupid. Somehow, though, even though Amy and I worked in fairly close proximity, she never quite, well, DID it for me. Smart? Yes. Funny? Yes. Pretty? With those ebony tresses and almond eyes, yes. But chemistry? NO.

I introduced Mimi to everybody who came within speaking distance.

When they announced that the meat was done, we grabbed plates and loaded up, sitting at the long tables under the pavilion roof. Enjoying conversation in several directions, but Cindy and Dan 1.0 were across the table from us.

“Mimi,” Cindy queried, “School? Work?”

I started to say something but Mimi’s kneed shoved mine. I took that as a signal.

“Right now I’m kinda trying to figure out my way through things,” Mimi said. “It’s complicated.”

“Yeah, life can be like that sometimes,” Cindy said gently. “Sometimes we forget that everything doesn’t stay on the neatest paths.”

“Yeah,” Mimi said. “That’s me lately. Kind of a sloppy path. Tommy’s been my support network.”

“Tommy’s a good one,” Cindy replied. “Dan and I get into discussions about ‘im. I wanna keep him on the robotics side. Dan wants ‘im for the engineering biz.”