Chapter 6

I finally gave up trying to sleep at three a.m. With all the thoughts running around in my head, it was impossible to relax. I kept trying to analyze everything that had happened during the evening. I wanted to call Tamara, but didn't dare, given the hour. In the end, I finally resorted to something my therapist had recommended. I found an old notebook and began journaling. Exhaustion finally caught up to me and when I awoke to the noonday sun, the journal was still near my hand.

I skimmed my writings of the night before and then put them down before finishing. I was glad I hadn't called Tamara. If my ramblings had come out half as incoherent on the phone as they had on paper, I'd have lost a friend.

A friend. Tamara had started the evening by calling me a friend. I sulked about that for a while. Then I caught myself and made myself pull out of it.

Yes, she'd had sex with me once. But that had been as a client. I certainly wasn't a client anymore. Even our 'deal' really wasn't a business arrangement anymore. I'd spend time with Billy regardless of whether Tamara and I had our talks while he was doing the dishes. He was ten, but he was my friend. Why wouldn't his mom see me the same way I saw him?

I played back our encounters in my mind. Had she ever hinted at being interested in me romantically, or was I just projecting, seeing what I wanted to see? I couldn't tell. Hell, I hadn't been able to tell with Angie, despite what Tamara said were clear hints.

Angie. Why did Angie want to go out with me? She obviously did—she'd said yes after all. She'd even said she was happy to see me when we first started talking. I mulled that one over.

This wasn't an internet date, where she really didn't know what I looked like. She also didn't seem to be desperate, but I realized I couldn't be sure of that from the short conversations we'd had. She wasn't doing Tamara or anyone a favor by going out with me.

Maybe she really liked me. I had to concede it was possible.

I finally called Tamara about two in the afternoon.

"Any advice before I call Angie?" I asked.

"Just relax and have a good time!" she replied. "It's no different than talking with her at a party or chatting with me on Thursdays."

Actually, it felt a lot different, but I couldn't explain exactly why.

"Can I call you after the date?" I asked.

"That might be a little tricky," she answered. "Billy, Mom and I are leaving for Portland tomorrow to spend Christmas with my uncle and cousins. Then I'm headed to Nevada to work. I'll be back in Denver on the Fifth."

"Oh."

"Why don't we talk about it on Thursday the Eighth?"

"Sounds okay, I guess."

"We'll talk then," she reassured. "And I'm sure your date will be just fine. Go have fun!"

Her reassurances only eased my nerves a little. We said our goodbyes and then I paced around, trying to calm down before calling Angie. It wasn't working, so I decided that I'd play a computer game for a while to relax.

I played, lost in the game, until hunger became an overriding distraction. I headed into the kitchen and glanced at the clock. Nine p.m.

"Shit!" I swore out loud. I still hadn't called Angie! Was it too late? Would she be upset? I wolfed down some leftovers while the adrenaline built. At 9:15 I took a few deep breaths and reached for the phone.

"Hello?" a feminine voice queried.

"This is John, may I speak with Angie?"

"Hi John, this is Angie."

"Uh, hi Angie, I'm, uh, hoping I'm not calling too late."

"It's not too late. I'm usually up until ten."

"Oh good, I, uh, didn't want to wake you or anything."

"No, you didn't wake me," she replied.

I realized I was sweating profusely.

"So, uh, 'Lord of the Rings.' Would you like to go Friday?"

"The day after Christmas? Sure! Ashley will be with her dad. What time?"

I realized I should have checked the papers before calling. I had no idea what the movie times were.

"Seven?" I suggested. "I'm sure we can catch a 7:30 or 8:00 show. Where do you live?"

"I'm in Arvada, near Wadsworth and I-70," she replied.

Great! There were at least three good theaters near there that were likely to be showing 'The Return of the King.'

"How about if I pick you up?" I suggested.

"Sounds good!"

With that, she proceeded to give me directions, once I'd scrambled for a notepad and pencil. We said our goodnights after that and I hung up the phone. Then I crashed into a chair and put my head in my hands.

Well, I hadn't completely screwed up the phone call. Close, but not completely. I needed to be better prepared next time.

Which I was on Friday. I bought the movie tickets online and identified three restaurants, two bars, and two coffee shops that were all within a short distance in case Angie wanted to go out after the movie. Of course, the theater was attached to a Dave and Buster's, which I knew had a bar in addition to its game rooms. I washed my car, inside and out, and got a new air freshener. I spent some time agonizing about what clothes to wear, but finally settled on a button down shirt and slacks, making sure they were clean and wrinkle free. I checked both paper maps and Mapquest to establish the best routes to Angie's and then the movie, and then hunted around online until I knew exactly where road construction was being done. Friday evening I started my preparations early and left with plenty of time to deal with late traffic snarls.

There weren't any. I arrived in Angie's neighborhood twenty minutes early. That was too much to sit in the car on her block. I eased into a strip mall and found an open parking place. I sat, wondering how to kill the time without letting my nerves run away from me. Then I noticed that one of the shops was a florist. Ten minutes later I was back in the car with a single red rose, wrapped with some sprigs of greenery that the florist had claimed would enhance its beauty. I wanted there to be no doubt that this was a date and not just 'friends' going out to a movie together.

I needn't have worried. Angie answered the door and oohed and ahhed over the rose. She was in a dressy full length skirt and dark sweater that set off her skin, giving her a warm aura. She'd obviously spent some time making sure her hair and makeup were perfectly set. She smiled at me constantly. I couldn't help but smile back. That seemed to brighten her even more.

When we got to the car, I unlocked her door and held it open for her.

"You are such a gentleman," she commented as she got settled.

"Aren't most guys?" I asked.

"You'd be surprised how many aren't," she muttered.

I shrugged in response and headed around the car for my own door.

We made it to the movie just fine, though my detailed planning had overlooked the possibility that there might not be any good parking places left at the theater. I pulled into a spot in the far corner of the far lot. Then I turned to Angie.

"Well, the good news is, we can see the theater from here. If we could see the movie from here, we'd be set."

Angie grinned at my joke instead of rolling her eyes.

Denver had not had a white Christmas this year. The air was crisp and we had to dodge a couple of patches of ice on our walk, but it was otherwise pleasant. When we arrived at the lobby, I turned to see how Angie was doing. Her cheeks were pink, giving her face a cherubic look. She caught me grinning.

"What?" she asked.

"Your cheeks are rosy from the cold," I replied. "Which seems appropriate for Christmas. You look like an angel."

Angie blushed and smiled.

"Thank you," she said.

We found seats without too much difficulty and enjoyed the film. Angie stayed seated until the final credits had rolled and we were the last ones in the auditorium.

"Would you like to go get a drink, or maybe coffee?" I asked.

"Sure! What did you have in mind?"

"Well, we could go into the Dave and Buster's here, or I know where there are some coffee shops and other bars and restaurants nearby."

Angie furrowed her brow. "Let's stay here, it's easier."

We wandered into Dave and Buster's and found a table in the bar that wasn't too noisy. We ordered beers and then an awkward silence fell. I didn't let it last but a short moment.

"So, what did you think?" I asked.

"I liked it! I think Jackson did a great job of wrapping it up and the critics that complained about too many endings were being unduly harsh."

"Really? I didn't read those reviews."

"Oh, I read them all."

With that, we were off into a discussion of film critics, film reviews, and film publication. I quickly realized that Angie knew far more than I and dropped into just asking questions wherever her comments raised my curiosity. After a while, she noticed and began drawing me out about my own favorite films and what I'd liked about them.

"I guess I just like films with clever plots," I finally summarized, somewhere in the middle of our second round of beers. "I like it when it all makes sense."

Angie nodded, grinning. "But sometimes it makes sense in a non-traditional way. Like Lost in Translation."

"Haven't seen it," I replied.

Angie paused to think for a moment.

"Okay, Casablanca. The traditional ending would have been for Rick and Ilsa to end up together, or for Rick to sacrifice himself so Ilsa could escape. Instead, we have a great speech and the gendarme saying 'round up the usual suspects.' It's not traditional, but it makes sense, and it's part of what makes the movie great."

"I heard that they winged that ending. They didn't decide on it until they'd gotten most of the film made."

"I've heard that too," Angela replied.

Just then the waitress approached. "Last call," she said.

"Speaking of endings," I drawled.

Angie smiled at me and reached for her purse as the waitress put the check down. I motioned for her to put it away.

"I asked you out," I said, "this is my treat."

"Will you let me pay next time?" she asked.

My heart skipped a beat in surprise.

"If you ask me out," I said.

"I might do that."

We sat smiling at each other for a moment. It wasn't awkward. It finally ended when I checked my watch.

"Two hours talking, wow. I've really enjoyed this."

"Me too."

With that, we headed out towards the parking lot.

It was noticeably colder outside and most of the cars were gone. In compensation, the night was deep black, with shimmers and sparkles where lights reflected off metal or ice. We took a more direct route across the lot. Halfway there, Angie slipped on a patch of ice and started to wobble. I caught her hand and steadied her before she fell.

"Thanks," she said.

"No problem," I replied. We continued walking and she didn't let go of my hand. I just enjoyed her warmth pressed against my palm.

When we got to her door, Angie turned to me after unlocking it and smiled up at me.

"I had a great time," she said.

"Me too." Silence fell once again.

"I don't know how to end this date," I finally admitted.

Angie looked a little surprised but only hesitated for a moment. She stepped in and gave me a kiss.

It was quick and fairly chaste. I managed to return it before she pulled back.

"Thanks for the movie and the beer," she said.

"You're welcome," I managed to reply. "Can I call you?"

"Of course."

With that, she turned and went inside, leaving me to walk back to my car, wide eyed and smiling in my surprise.

The next day I did call Angie at a reasonable hour, when I was in control of my nerves. We talked for an hour, about film and books and Ashley. Angie had custody the following weekend and so was going to have a belated Christmas with her daughter and her parents. I suggested that we have our next date the weekend after that, on the Tenth. She agreed and mentioned that it would be nice to do something in the afternoon. I promised to think of something and get back to her. Scanning the papers, I came up with what promised to be a great idea. After checking on a couple of things, I called her back and asked if she would be up for a matinee play. She liked the idea and was intrigued when I refused to name the show. I had started to fantasize about how I could make it a really memorable date, but wanted to talk to Tamara before I committed myself to anything that might backfire.

When Thursday the Eighth rolled around, I didn't immediately have a chance to ask for advice. Tamara answered the door, concern laced through her face.