FOLLOW-UP: Mysterious

I decided to test the waters again at Adrian's Cafe. Instead of the normal egg salad on wheat, I went with seafood salad as a change-up. Of course, Adrian's Girl was on hand.

"Seafood salad? You like that stuff?"

"Yeah, sure. You don't?"

"Oh, I guess it's alright. Hey, did you go to the Royals game last night?"

"Nope."

"Too bad, 'cause you would have seen me there."

"Oh, really? How so?"

"I was up on the Jumbotron."

"How'd you manage that? Were you on the Kiss Cam...?"

(Notice my clever casting for information.)

"...no..."

"...Bad Hair-do Cam?"

She squinted her eyes at me and gave me a sly grin.

"No. I was just on the regular fan cam. I guess I'm just really talented."

"I guess you are. I'm sorry I missed it."

I sat down at my usual table by the window. I opened my book and started reading but I had a hard time concentrating. My mind was on her and my magnificent ability to construct witty banter on the fly.

After ten minutes or so, I had finished my sandwich and devoted my entire attention to The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. I had hardly gotten through a chapter when I noticed some shuffling in my periphery. I looked up and saw her standing in front of me, wearing an apron and a playful smile.

"Whatchya reading today?"

"The Bell Jar."

"What's it about?"

"I think it's about a woman who goes insane or something."

"Hmm. Have you read Blue Like Jazz yet?"

This is the book she recommended after I had completed her previous suggestion, The Great Divorce by C. S. Lewis.

"No, I haven't gotten to it yet. It's on the list, but I have some other recommendations from friends that are higher in the queue. But I'll definitely get to it."

Just then, she realized that the cash register had been left unattended this whole time and scampered back to her duties behind the counter.

At this point, I figured she had given me more than enough evidence to show she was interested. I planned on introducing myself before I left. But as I still had ample lunch break left, I went back to reading.

After a few more scattershot minutes of reading, she plopped down in the seat opposite me.

"Well, hello there," I said.

"Hello."

I offered my hand across the table. "My name is Nick. It's nice to officially meet you."

"Hi, I'm Stacey. So, Nicholas, huh? Nicholas what?"

"It's not Nicholas, actually. Just Nick. Nick Blakeley. How about you? Stacey what?"

"Stacey Tennant. With two n's. It's Irish. Soooo...Stacey Blakeley........"

Cue the sound of tires screeching and my jaw slamming against the table.

"Uhhhh...whoa. That's a little forward, don't you think?"

"Oh, I'm just kidding. So what are you doing this weekend?"

"Ummm, uhhhh..."

My magnificent ability to construct witty banter had evaporated much quicker than the sweat beads that were forming on my forehead.

My brain finally got up off the mat and I uttered, "Well, I'm going to see the "Bodies Revealed" exhibit at Union Station. What are you doing?"

"Oh, I don't know. I've got a paper to write for school..."

"Do you go to school up the street?"

"Yeah, also at Baker."

"Alright."

She got up to headed back to her duties. Against my better judgement, I asked,

"So what are you doing Friday night?"

"Oh, I don't know. Why?"

"Well, would you like to get together?"

The look on her face cued her own inner tire screeching.

"Oh! Umm, well, umm, uh maybe not right now, ahh, umm well maybe some time as friends, uh, umm."

As off-balance as I was after the appellation scene, I was now overly-corrected and in danger of falling off the other side of my chair. All I could think to myself was "What the hell am I missing here?"

I said, "Oh, ok. That's fine. Whatever. Alright."

She paused for a moment to regain her composure and said, "Well, I hope you don't stop coming in here because of that."

"Oh, no," I said, trying to remain polite despite the fact my brain synapses were re-creating the opening ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics. "You're right around the corner. Where else am I going to get a sandwich as good as this?"

She smiled nervously and retreated behind the counter. I made a lame attempt to read again, but mostly just rehashed the previous 20 minutes of my life. After a few minutes, I decided to cut my lunch break a tad short. I looked toward the counter and saw her busying herself and not looking in my direction. I decided this would be a good time to slip out the door and head back to work.

Now the shoe is on the other foot. Mysterious? Suddenly, I'm not quite as big a fan.