Sometime Soon - By Debra Doxer Page 0,27
sky. The tangy scent of garlic is in the air. I’m taking in the scene and thinking of Katie again. What will this second relationship disillusionment do to her optimistic outlook? Like Katie and myself, I know many women who are bright, ambitious, and successful in every aspect of their lives except romantic relationships. Why is that last frontier so hard to conquer?
Jason is now almost twenty minutes late, and he hasn’t called. I get the feeling I’m being stood up. I decide to give him ten more minutes before leaving. But just then Jason arrives. I hear my name called, and I turn to see him walking toward me. He looks sharp in a blue dress shirt and navy slacks held up by a brown belt with a silver buckle. He pockets his phone when he reaches me, leaning down to peck my cheek. The familiar frameless glasses are in place above a bright smile. His brown hair, streaked with blonde, has not one hair out of place. I expect to hear an apology or an explanation. He doesn’t offer one.
“This is my new favorite Italian place,” he says brightly, resting his hand on my lower back, directing me inside. “You’re going to love it.”
Despite our lateness, we are led right to a table for two toward the back of the restaurant. It’s a nicely situated spot away from the noisy bar and the crowded entrance. I get the feeling Jason knows the maitre d’ as he shakes his hand and thanks him.
“Were you held up at work?” I ask once we’re seated.
He seems confused by the question.
“We said eight o’clock. I thought maybe you were held up at the office,” I explain.
“Oh, no. A friend wanted me to go by and see an apartment he’s thinking of renting.” Jason unfolds his napkin and takes a sip of his water. Now I’m the confused one. He went to look at an apartment when he knew he was meeting me for dinner, and he seems completely unconcerned that he kept me waiting as a result.
“Did you like the apartment?” I ask, deciding to put my annoyance aside and get on with the date.
He shrugs. “It’s big. Kind of pricey, too. Do you like shrimp? We could start with that.”
“That sounds good,” I agree.
The food is wonderful, and Jason is very charming. He tells me he’s originally from Baltimore, but decided to stay in Boston after attending college here. He has an older sister who is living in London with her boyfriend, and he just went home recently for his father’s sixtieth birthday. He talks quite a bit about himself, but that doesn’t bother me so much anymore. Most men I’ve dated do that, and I generally don’t have much interest in talking about myself. I already know that subject thoroughly.
“Do you rent in the city?” I ask, as our dinner plates are cleared away.
He nods. “I’m in Beacon Hill right now, but I’d like to move here to the Back Bay.”
“I love the Back Bay,” I say enthusiastically. It’s a beautiful area of the city running parallel to the Charles River. “What’s stopping you?”
He rubs his thumb against his forefingers. “It’s mucho dinero. I’d rather take that money and travel with it. Do you ski?”
“No.”
“Some buddies and me rented a place in Aspen over the winter. We had an incredible time. We’re going to do it again next year. You should come. We’re also talking about taking a place on the vineyard next summer. Do you like the beach?”
“Love it,” I reply, thinking it’s strange the way he casually threw that invitation out to me.
“Me, too. It would be great to get away on weekends to the vineyard.”
I agree with him that it would be nice to have a weekend getaway place. I’m also thinking how differently I feel about money and about saving it. I like to travel, too. I just took a vacation, but I’m getting the impression that saving money isn’t a priority for him.
“Let’s get some dessert at a café I know over on Boylston,” he suggests. Do you mind a little walk?”
“Not at all. That sounds great,” I reply. And it does, although my strappy sandals are going to make my feet very unhappy.
Jason pays the bill and I decide not to do the wallet-reach. I usually do perform it, but I don’t want to tonight. Since he extended the dinner invitation, I want him to do the right thing and he does, automatically, without