30 Days, 30 Stories

Day Twenty-Eight: First Date

“Are you married?” Her stare lingered on his left hand. “Because if you are, then this date is definitely over.”

“It’s not like that—no, shit, I knew I should have taken the ring off sooner.”
“So you do this often?”

“No, no, please—Erin. She died. My wife. She died two years ago.”

His confession jarred her. She’d been expecting him to blurt out that he was in the middle of a divorce or that his wife just didn’t understand him or any of the other excuses she’d heard from married men who wanted a little something on the side. Erin glanced away. She tried to regain her composure. 

“Can we go somewhere else? I wanted to tell you about Lisette but…it just seemed too early.”

Erin nodded. A crowded bar definitely wasn’t the best place to talk about his dead wife. She put on her coat while he paid the bill, then they eased through the throng of people in the Tap House and stepped out into the chilly night air. They walked down the stairs together and then stood for a moment on the pavement, uncertain of where to go now. 

“There’s another bar over there.” Erin pointed to the corner occupied by the Metro Bar. “Or we could go to my place. It’s just around the corner.” Her suggestion hung in the air as if suspended by frost. “There’s probably no food in my fridge but we could pick up some takeout and make the best of it.”

Milo nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. “That sounds like a good idea. I don’t really do so well in crowded places.”

“Neither do I.”

They walked down Walnut Street together, huddled against the wind in their winter coats. She wondered what people thought, seeing them together. In Richmond, she knew people would have cast furtive glances or stared openly without trying to hide their curiosity or animosity. On UPenn’s campus, they were harder to read. Did people know they were on a date? Were they giving off date vibes? She could feel her attraction for him streaming through her veins. If he touched her, she would melt. She was sure of it. But he kept his hands to himself. Maybe he wasn’t sure if it was worth the effort. She hoped he liked her. She got the feeling he liked her. When he smiled at her, his face lit up and those beautiful pale blue eyes burned bright. He had such a perfect mouth. His lips were so beautifully formed, made for kissing. 

She blushed just thinking these thoughts. She’d never dated a white man before, not even in high school when she’d been tempted by one beautiful boy named Andreas who’d flirted with her for weeks and then gave up when her reticence became embarrassing. Would Milo’s lips feel any different from Curtis’s? 

They stopped at Dancing Orchid Thai and picked up enough spring rolls and pad thai to get them through the evening, then they continued along 38th Street past the student bars and apartments until they came to her neighborhood. 

Inside her apartment, she turned on the lamps and told Milo to make himself comfortable. “I have a bottle of white wine in the fridge,” she said. “Probably a few beers too. Which would you like?”

“A beer would be great.”

“Okay, well…turn on some music, I’ll get the beers and some plates…”

When she came back, Milo had turned on a John Mayer CD and was sitting on the sofa. His dark hair curled around his ears in silky rings. He was staring down at his clasped hands like a little boy waiting to be scolded. Erin set the plates and beers down on the coffee table then began serving up their food. 

“So you’re not married…and this isn’t a booty call.”

“No…and no.”

“You’re a widower.”