I have beer and wine.”
“Water is just fine. I’m staying clean in case I hear from my old job while I appeal.”
“Oh, right, I’m so sorry.”
Flushing and embarrassed, she’d put her foot in her mouth. It was hard enough to navigate a new friendship without worrying about being politically correct.
“You’ll have to give me time to say the right thing,” she said, stammering.
“Sofia, don’t worry about me, okay? I live in a shed. It’s going to take more than offering me a beverage to upset the equilibrium.”
Visibly decompressing, she smiled and nodded. “Okay. I’ll try to loosen up. My father showing up like that threw me a bit.”
“He was very congenial.”
“I guess it makes it a little easier. I was honest with him and told him I picked you up at the poki place.”
“Did you really?” Ryan asked, laughing. “I like that relationship between you and your dad.”
“He was so happy I was socializing that he didn’t care that I picked you up. It’s probably a relief for him.”
“Oh, why is that? Don’t you go out much?” he asked. “We’ve only talked about me, so I feel guilty that I haven’t spent more time chatting about you.”
“No. I don’t go out at all. But it’s kind of a downer why, so I’d rather wait until later or even another day to go into that.”
“Okay, no problem. Just an FYI, I brought flip-flops in case you want to walk on the beach later.”
“I’d love to do that!” Ah! The issue about what to do after dinner, resolved. She wouldn’t have to worry about dragging him into her bed after all. “Let’s take our plates out on the balcony. It’s nice out tonight.”
Flustered at her inner dialogue, she took a deep breath, trying to calm down. They sat at the bistro table overlooking the ocean. In the distance, the lights from the pier kept the view from being a black void.
“This is delicious,” he said, smiling at her. “Thank you so much for inviting me over. It was kind of risky of you, now that I’m thinking about it.”
“I’m not a risk-taker at all. You have to know this about me. I’m truly a dud. If we hang around long enough, you’ll find that I have two speeds, slow and stop.”
“I’m the same way,” he said. “I’ve never dated someone who was like me. The women have always been go-getters who tried to get me to do interesting things.”
“Well, you won’t ever have to worry about that with me. I’m way beyond trying to inspire anyone.”
He laughed out loud. “I’m sure you underestimate yourself.”
“You’re a doctor though,” she said, not wanting the focus to stay on her. “That isn’t something a dud would take up.”
“It was my dad’s idea. I’m a good test taker. Plus anesthesia requires a lot of math, and I love math.”
“Why not just become a mathematician, then? Why go through all that to become a doctor?” She felt a little bold asking him that, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“I wanted to work with people. My dad’s a scientist and he suggested medicine, and I just went with it. I liked studying, liked science, so it wasn’t difficult for me.”
“Why’d you choose anesthesia?”
He listed all the pros to becoming an anesthesiologist, the science, helping patients. “I didn’t want to have an ongoing relationship with a patient like a surgeon or internal medicine doc has to have. I thought about radiology, but they often only see a patient’s films and that’s it. I wanted a little more patient contact than that.”
“Okay, well, that makes sense.”
“Why do you do the work you do?” he asked.
“In college, I majored in journalism. I wanted to write, but I needed to make some money while I was doing it, and I didn’t want to wait tables or bartend like some of my friends from school. So I can write and sell ads for the little paper my father bought, and when I’m not working, I can write write.”
“Like fiction write?”
“Yes. Fiction.”
“What are you writing now?” he asked, leaning forward.
Usually when she was asked about writing, she figured the person was just being polite. But his body language said he was sincerely interested. When she hesitated, he said more.
“I’m intrigued with the writer’s thought process because I read like a maniac. My one regret is that when I lost my home, all my books went with it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“When my house went into foreclosure, I was in rehab, and they took everything