listlessly at the ceiling - Gabe excused himself. Tara found him sitting outside, tears streaming down his face. For the first time, she wondered if perhaps she'd been too hard on him. He was so bloody handsome it was hard not to distrust him. But his distress around the kids was obviously genuine.
"I'm sorry. I shocked you."
"It's okay." Gabe's hands were shaking. "I needed to be shocked. What can I do? What do you need?"
"Everything. We need everything. You name it, we need it. Drugs, beds, toys, food, syringes, condoms. We need a miracle."
Gabe reached into his pocket and pulled out a checkbook. Without thinking, he scribbled down a number, signed it, and handed it to Tara.
"I can't do miracles, I'm afraid. But maybe this will help. Just till I can work out something more long-term."
Tara looked at the number and burst into tears.
Their first date was a disaster. Hoping to impress her as a serious-minded citizen, not just another rich playboy, Gabe got them tickets to the premiere of a political documentary that had gotten rave reviews. Tara loved the movie. It was the additional sound track of Gabe's snores she objected to.
"I'm sorry! But you have to admit it was dull."
"Dull? You know it won the Palme d'Or at Cannes."
"Palm Bore more like it," muttered Gabe.
"How could you find that boring? The West's treatment of refugees is one of the most fascinating, complex issues facing modern society."
Not as fascinating as your breasts in that T-shirt.
When they sat down to dinner - Gabe had deliberately chosen a low-key steak house in a quiet neighborhood, nothing too flashy - things got worse. Tara leaned forward, her gorgeous wide-set eyes dancing in the candlelight. For one glorious moment Gabe thought she was about to kiss him.
Instead she asked earnestly: "So what are your politics, Gabe? How would you define yourself?"
"I wouldn't."
"Come on. I'm interested."
Gabe sighed. "All right. I'm a capitalist."
Later that night, alone in bed, Gabe wondered if he'd somehow misspoken and said "I'm a Nazi child-killer" or "I'm a horse fetishist. You?" The very word capitalist sent Tara into such an apoplexy of rage, she stormed out of the restaurant before they'd even finished their entrees.
He'd had to beg for a second date. This time he decided to keep it simple. Uncontroversial. He took her ice skating.
"I've never done this before." Wobbling uncertainly on the ice in jeans and a pair of pink leg warmers, Tara looked about thirteen. Gabe had never wanted a woman more.
"It's a cinch." He smiled, reaching for her hand. Pulling her toward him, he skated around behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Just step...and glide. Step...and glide. Let me lead you." He began to skate forward.
"No, no, no, it's okay. Don't push me. I can do it."
"It's all right. Just relax. I won't let you fall." He started to build up some speed, gliding the two of them across the ice.
"No, Gabe. I don't want you to...I prefer - watch out!"
The guy who plowed into them must have weighed at least two hundred pounds, a human Mack truck with no brakes. Gabe needed six stitches in his forehead. Tara fractured a rib and broke her arm in two places.
"You look good in white," Gabe joked in the emergency room, when they finished setting her arm in a cast.
"Thanks."
She wasn't smiling. Oh God, I've blown it. She'll never go out with me again. Not after this.
"I'm not very good at dates, am I?"
"No."
"That was probably the worst date you ever had."
"Unquestionably."
"Apart from the one before."
"Apart from that one, yes."
"The thing is..."
"Yes, Gabe?"
"You're laughing at me."
And she was. Tears of laughter streamed down Tara's face. Instinctively she moved her arm to wipe them away, only to whack herself in the face with her cast. For some reason, this made her laugh even harder.
"I'm sorry. But you look so adorable with your face all bashed up. And you are the most useless date in the universe. I mean you're bad on a superhuman scale."
"I know." Seizing the moment, he leaned down and kissed her, a full, passionate kiss that took both of them by surprise. It was a nice surprise, though. So they did it again. And again.
"I love you," said Gabe.
Tara grinned. "Disappointingly, I'm afraid I love you, too."
"I know I'm a crap date. But I'd be a good husband."
"Oh, really? So is that a proposal?"
"I don't know. Is that an acceptance?"
"Come back with a ring and I'll think about it."
Three months later, they were