Brent's Blind Date

Brent stopped outside the door to the restaurant and checked his reflection in the glass. He tightened his tie. Smoothed the blazer and slacks. Shoes were still clean. Good. He entered into an open circle lobby. Restaurant sounds echoed up from a wide, winding staircase at the end of the lobby. Clattering dinnerware. Conversations melded together into one incongruous buzz. He walked down.

Below, the stairs opened into the restaurant proper. The dining area took up most of the space, just off to the left of the stairs. The bar, however, was a short and straight walk from the bottom of the stairs. There Brent spied a brunette woman in a red sweater sitting alone at the end of the bar. He made for the bar.

“Excuse me,” Brent said as he approached. “You wouldn’t happen to be Jessica, would you?”

The woman turned to him, and Brent was dumbstruck. It wasn’t love at first sight, or lust, or even an instant but undeniable attraction. No. There was an aura about her. A presence she exuded that demanded his senses at attention. As if he should be on guard, though she did not appear dangerous.

She gave him a look over. An older blazer. Well kept. Tie that almost matched, though the colors were a shade or two off. The slacks matched. She lingered for a moment longer on the fresh, clean shoes, then looked up to him. The instant their gazes met, he felt a nostalgic, and somewhat uncomfortable, pang of vague remembrance again. The vague something called out from the distant reaches of his mind. Something he’d long forgotten and could not recall.

“Have we met before?”

His mouth had formed the words and blurted the question before she could answer his first. She stared back at him, expressionless. Thinking. It wasn’t long, but he felt the seconds dragging, dredging up a sense of unwelcome uncomfortable. Then the woman offered him a half amused smile to assuage the rising discomfort.

“No. I’m not Jessica. And no, we haven’t met before.”

Well, that settled that. Or it should have. Her admission did nothing to dispel the lingering doubt tickling the back of his brain.

“You’re sure? You just… seem familiar somehow.”

“I’m sure,” she responded, no longer half amused.

Brent sighed, and pushed the situation out of his mind with the exhale.

“I’m sorry. That was weird, wasn’t it? I’m supposed to meet someone. Blind date. I, I’m a little nervous, I guess, and… I dunno. I… I’m sorry.”

She held his gaze through the awkward apology. Under that stare, with each word he spoke, he could feel the confidence of his position waning. Hands turned up, he gave a half-hearted shrug of defeat. Then he watched her sightline shift from his face to over his shoulder. The moment the woman stopped looking at him, he felt all his muscles relax. He hadn’t even realized how tense her stare had made him until it was gone. The woman’s gaze returned. She pointed toward the staircase.

“Jessica?”

Brent turned to the stairs and, for the second time in five minutes, found himself unable to think. The noise in the background faded to an almost inaudible whisper. His peripheral vision faded, too, as he focused on the woman in the red turtleneck, there at the bottom of the stairs, chatting with the hostess. The woman laughed. Tilted her head. Pushed long, brown hair behind her ear. Brent stared, mouth agape. Awestruck. She was, without question, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. His heart skipped. He flushed. Straightened his back. Squared his shoulders. Took a deep breath and tried to blow out the sudden influx of nervous excitement tumbling about his midsection. There was an unbound jubilation to this nervousness, though, that stood in stark contrast to the cold and intense pressure he’d felt just a moment before. He started walking forward, unbidden. As if his instant attraction were literally pulling him toward her.

The woman in the red turtleneck noted his approach. She looked right at him and grinned. A genuine expression that lit up her face even more. His heart skipped again. The knot in his stomach tightened. He stumbled over nothing. Her smile widened. She turned, said something to the hostess, who herself giggled and cast a quick glance in his direction, then walked to meet him.

“Brent?”

She was right there. In front of him. He was stunned. Every cell in his body felt alight and alive. It was the most exhilarating thing he’d ever felt. And, simultaneously, the most terrifying. His head fell. He had to stare at the floor. Stop the feeling from overwhelming him. He ran a hand through his hair. Classic front to back nervous swipe.

“Yeah…”

Brent took a deep breath. Steadied himself. Looked back up with confidence.

“Yes. I’m Brent. You’re Jessica?”

“I am. You, uh, starting without me?”

Jessica pointed back toward the bar from whence he’d came. Brent had to look over his shoulder to even remember what was back there. For the last couple minutes, nothing had existed except her.

“Oh. No. I… there was a…”

…woman he’d forgotten about and just straight up walked away from. Brent turned to the bar again, but the woman in the red sweater was gone. He felt a twinge of regret. Quite rude of him to just walk off like that.

“Wait. Start without you? Does that mean you want a drink?”

“Yeah!”

The answer came a little more enthusiastically than either of them had expected. She paused for half a second, realizing the social mishap, but then recovered and tried again.

“If that’s cool. I’m hella nervous. A drink would help.”

“Then we should have a drink, Jessica.”

**********

A drink turned into two. Then dinner. Another drink. And another with a double order of appetizers. Brent and Jessica sat at the bar, turned toward each other, (except for during dinner), leaning toward each other, (even at dinner), and talked, (through more of dinner than proper manners would abide).

The conversation started with Jake, their mutual acquaintance. The one who’d set them up together.

Brent and Jake had gone to high school together, though neither would have claimed to be close friends at the time. Each had a different group of core friends, but there was enough overlap in those groups that Brent and Jake would often find hanging together at sports games, assemblies, school dances. The local pizzeria. The annual fair. As time passed, those other friends moved to different states, or off into the suburbs. Brent and Jake remained. As adults, the two had become actual friends, with regular meetups and a bottom-of-the-recents text thread.

Jessica had moved to the area a handful of years earlier, to take a job with the same tech company that employed Jake. In fact, Jake had been the one assigned to train Jessica when she first started. She was a quick learner, though, and there hadn’t been much need for training after the first week. The two remained work friends, however, with regular lunch hangouts and an oft used Slack thread.

Brent asked about Jessica’s move. This led them to talks of inspiration, childhood dreams, and hopes for the future. Stories of college shenanigans, which turned to stories of high school shenanigans, which led to stories of childhood shenanigans. Such stories can’t be told without also talking of families and friends. First loves and heart breaks. Jessica talked about her rebellious aunt, the liberal graffiti artist, and her Baptist preacher grandfather. Brent talked about his parents’ divorce, and the life lessons he learned while sleeping on the couch of his cousin’s studio apartment.

There was a brief moment of quiet after Jessica spoke of her grandmother’s death. Not an awkward or uncomfortable silence. More like a much needed breather. Brent grabbed the last two mozzarella sticks and handed one to Jessica. They ate quietly, elbows touching at the edge of the bar counter. Despite the sadness of the previous topic, Jessica couldn’t help but smile.

The conversation continued on with lighter fare. Favorite movies. Favorite books. Cartoon crushes. Hobbies and methods for wasting time on a weekend afternoon. Best vacation. The subtle signs to look for if either of them were to ever come into a secret stash of millions. Brent would have a pair of expensive sneakers for each day of the week. Hell, maybe the month. Name brand cereal in the pantry. Jessica would have all the new gaming consoles with maximum storage. Hair and nails done on the regular.

Hours passed without them noticing. The two sat at the bar and talked, while other couples and groups came to dine, ate full meals, and left. Some noticed the two at the bar and commented on how close they looked. What a good time they must be having. Brent finished the last of his drink and set it on the counter. The bartender came over quick and cleared their glasses, replacing them with two waters.

“Uber time,” the bartender said, pointing to the clock above the bar.

Neither of them had looked at their phones since sitting down at the bar. Nor had either of them looked up at the clock, apparently. They hadn’t looked at much of anything except each other. Now that the evening was suddenly ending, Brent felt awkward for the first time in hours. Jessica was already swiping through her phone apps.

“You, uh, you want a ride? I’m parked just a few blocks from here.”

“No. It’s cool. I’ve got a free ride to use.”

Tap. Tap. Done. Jessica put the phone down on the bar top, looked at him, and smiled. She leaned over. Put a hand on his knee.

“But thank you. You’re sweet.”

“Next time?”

“Next time.”

She squeezed his knee. He damn near melted off the stool. Jessica turned for a drink of water. They sat together, quietly hydrating, until her ride arrived.

Brent walked Jessica out of the restaurant. Once outside, Jessica whooped loudly in excitement. Brent was startled, and jumped just a bit. She laughed and grabbed him around the side, pinning his right arm down, in an embrace.

“Best. Night.”

Jessica spun on her foot and danced to get in front of him. Brent slowed. Mesmerized. Her ride pulled up. He stopped. She grabbed his tie and pulled him downward. She kissed him.

They kissed.

“Can’t wait until next time,” she whispered in his ear. Then turned. Hopped in the car. The car pulled into the street and drove. He felt immediate disappointment that she wasn’t still there with him, but some of that disappointment faded at the thought of seeing her again. He puled out his phone to text her and realized he hadn’t gotten her number.

Brent stepped into the street without thinking. He threw both arms up and waved wildly. Hopped up and down. Hoping the driver would see him in the rearview. Or Jessica would look back. He was about to rush after the car when a bright light suddenly surrounded him.

Brent felt something hard slam into him from behind. Then he felt nothing at all.

**********

Brent opened eyes he didn’t remember closing. His vision was blurred. His mind was clouded. Something had happened. He couldn’t remember what, though. What could he remember? The kiss. Gods be damned, that kiss. Wow. Then she left. He was waving and jumping. And then… what? Nothing. No. Not nothing. Light. That bright light. And then he had woken up on the ground. Looking up.

Up at the woman in the red sweater.

There was a crowd gathered round. He could see them in his peripheral, but couldn’t make out the faces. Except for the woman in the red sweater. Though she was now wearing a black leather jacket out here in the cold, it was indeed the same sweater underneath. The same woman from the bar. Recognition fired in the deep storage of his memories. This was it. The thing he’d forgotten. From this angle. Looking up at the woman in the red sweater, with the black leather jacket. This is how he knew her. He remembered this view.

The woman in the leather jacket bent and extended a hand toward him. Brent reached up. She grabbed him around the wrist and pulled. Her fingers were ice cold. He felt the cold spread from his wrist down into his fingers, and up through his forearm, elbow, and into his shoulders. Then down through the whole of him. To the tips of his toes. Which were back flat on the ground. She had pulled him up without much effort, it seemed.

But that was irrelevant. He had seen this woman before. Seeing her in the leather jacket, standing over him like that… it was just like last time. Just like the last time.

“We have met before,” Brent said.

The woman in the red sweater and leather jacket had not waited for him, however. She was a dozen paces ahead, with no intent of slowing down. He jogged to catch up.

“We have met before. I remember now. The jacket. The sweater. You were there at the pool. When I was ten.”

Brent paused to wait for a response. But none came. She just kept walking. He noted, however, that while she did not confirm his accusation, she hadn’t denied it, either.

“It was Josh’s tenth birthday, and he had a pool party. Everyone had gone inside for cake, but I didn’t notice. I’d been practicing holding my breath underwater and missed it. I couldn’t swim, and my kid idea of training for swimming was to learn to hold my breath. So I held onto the ladder, and closed my eyes, and dunked down. When I came back up, everyone was gone. I was running around the pool to get inside, slipped on some water, and fell into the deep end.”

He paused again to take a steadying breath before the next part.

“I almost drowned. I still remember the feeling of sinking lower and lower into the water. Fighting harder and harder, while knowing I wasn’t going to win. I couldn’t. I panicked. I swallowed some water. I panicked more. Swallowed more water. There was nothing but water. And then it got, like, real peaceful. No more panic. I could see that I was bobbing up and down in the waves I’d created while thrashing around, but I didn’t feel it. I was numb, I guess? I dunno. But I was, I was under the water, and I kinda felt something cinch around me. Then I was out of the water. Someone had pulled me out of the pool. My friend’s uncle. I was lying on my back, coughing up water. I looked up, and in the group of worried faces looking down over me… I saw you. You were there. Same jacket. Same sweater. I remember. You were there.”

The moment he said those words again, You were there, Brent felt relief. The pressure all through his body eased. He could think clearer now, without the overpowering insistence to speak the evidence of their earlier encounter. He awaited a response, but again, none came. The woman just continued walking. But… walking where?

“ Wait.”

He stopped. She did not.

“Where are we going?”

The woman in the leather jacket kept walking. He was frustrated with her lack of response. She had lied. She was there. He deserved an answer, damn it. But if she wasn’t going to explain herself, he wasn’t going to keep following. Screw this.

Brent looked around for a street sign, or familiar building, or landmark of some sort to help pinpoint their location. But all he saw were rooftops and dark skies. Rooftops… He blinked and looked again. Still rooftops. He looked down, and gasped.

Down past the rooftops. Down past the buildings beneath them. Down to the street below.

There was a crowd gathered there, much like the one from he pool, near the front of a big pickup truck. The crowd, too, was looking down. Down at a body. His body. Brent could see his own face illuminated in the alternating red and blue lights of the police siren.

“What the…”

Brent turned to look back. The woman in the leather jacket had pulled her hood up. He stared, dumbfounded, at the dark, hooded figure floating off into the night. Then back down at his own body, crumpled in the street below. She had been there. The day he almost drowned. Here she was again today. The day he…

“No… No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be… No. Nooo. Come on, man! Not now. Not… no. No. No… ”

He turned again to storm after the hooded figure. To fight, or beg, for another chance. But he didn’t need to take a step. He turned and she was there. He could no longer see her face under the hood, even though she stood less than a foot before him, but he could feel her genuine regret, the reluctance with which she was performing this task.

Cold, thin, pale fingers reached out and wrapped around his shoulder. A gesture of sympathy. For a moment she just stood there, and he gazed into the unnatural darkness of the hood. He expected fear and terror, but instead felt peace and acceptance. She squeezed his shoulder and turned. Back to the walk. The walk to… whatever was next.

Brent lingered a minute. He looked down the street. Not down at the street. Not at himself. Down the street. In the direction Jessica had gone. Into the distance. Into the night. Somewhere, out there, wherever she had gone.

Jessica.

He smiled. Picked a random spot down there that felt like where she would be. He walked backward, a handful of paces behind the dark, hooded figure. He walked, and he stared at that spot, until he could see naught else but darkness.