On the Rocks

He waits three days to call. "Hello? Tara? This is Graham Schumacher. The guy looking for a drum set? Yes, I picked it up, and it's just what I had in mind, thanks. But that's not why I'm calling. I hope this isn't too forward, but I noticed you seem to like the same music I do, and I happen to have snagged a couple of tickets to a great concert. Frozen Desire? It's an LA grunge band. Have you heard of them?"

That she has doesn't surprise him. That she agrees to go with him does.

It's a long four days.

He's distracted from his studies.

His bedside manner suffers.

He avoids personal calls, especially from his copper-haired girlfriend.

His drums languish.

All he can think about is Tara.

He feels like he's sixteen again, and the most popular girl in school has agreed to go to prom with him. Why did she say yes? Why is he even worried about why?

He decides to ask her, come date night. Graham has always prided himself on forthrightness. And if he doesn't, it will bother him forever.

He chooses an upscale steakhouse for their pre-concert dinner. The maître d smiles when they walk through the door. Graham knows it's Tara who's drawn Lorenzo's attention, and that's fine. The service will be excellent.

"Could we please have a booth in back?" requests Tara.

"Of course," agrees Lorenzo.

As he ushers them to their table, Tara snakes an arm around Graham's elbow and leans her head toward his, rewarding him with a caress of gardenia-scented hair. She says into his ear, "Everyone wants the Fremont Street windows, but the noise can get irritating. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all. I take it you've been here before?"

"Oh, yes. It was one of Raul's favorites."

Raul. Graham hopes the name doesn't surface too many times tonight. The last thing he needs is to compete with a ghost. But of course Raul comes haunting right away, and at Graham's invitation.

"What would you like to drink?" he asks as they look at their menus. It's an innocent enough question. Everyone starts a dinner out with drinks, don't they?

"Oh, water for me, thanks."

"Just water? I was thinking wine."

She shakes her head. "I'm really not much of a drinker. Raul never touched it, so I never picked up the habit."

He wants to ask how she avoided it, considering her time dancing. How else would girls make it through an experience like that? Instead, he inquires, "How old were you when you married Raul? If you don't mind my asking."

"Twenty. He was forty-seven."

Ah. That explains a lot. "How long were you married?"

"Three years."

Twenty-three, then. So young to be a widow. "How did he die? Sorry. You don't have to answer that."

She shrugs. "It's not a secret. We were skiing and he hit a tree."

"Wow. That must have been quite a shock."

"It was. Luckily, Raul was an astute businessman. He left everything in perfect order. All I had to do was cry."

The waiter arrives, interrupting the exchange and giving Graham a chance to consider his next move. They order Chateaubriand for two, plus Caesar salad, both to be prepared tableside. "You sure you won't have something stronger than water?" says Graham when the waiter asks about drinks. "Maybe something a little sweet?"