Bloomingdales, Gap, Gap Kids, Baby Gap. What the hell was he doing wandering aimlessly through this mall? Tiffany, Victoria's Secret, True Religion. Didn't he have something better to do with this day? Pottery Barn, Hallmark, Laura Ashley. With his life?
Truthfully? Jack Wilson didn't, unless four walls and a stack of essays to grade could be considered better. Since his wife, Pam, died last year his life had been pretty empty. Weekends especially. During the week he had his students and a few casual friends. His kids lived five hundred miles away in opposite directions. Pam had always been his best buddy.
So most weekends he spent some time in the company of people who he didn't know, and who were unaware of his existence. Small comfort. Still, small was better than nothing.
But at least, on this particular Saturday, he had a purpose for being there. He was headed for Border’s to pick up the newest Michael Connelly, with a stop along the way at the food court for coffee and his weekly pair of doughnuts.
Heading there, Jack passed a couple “young” stores, Zumiez and Pac Sun, the kind where you needed an under-age card for admission. Over sixteen not allowed. After a few more steps, he turned and headed down the left alcove. The Doughnut Plant was just ahead. He hoped they would have blackberry today.
He was imagining the first bite when he heard the scream. “Stop!” Thoughts of the doughnut faded. Just beyond his destination a man and woman were struggling over a purse. The man was winning.
It was the woman’s “Help me!” that triggered him. Without considering the consequences he started forward, which was out of character, because Jack was usually a consequences kind of guy.
“Stop that!” He shouted. “Let her go!” He was probably thirty feet away.
The attacker looked his way. Startled, he let go of the purse, and the woman staggered backward. He turned toward Jack and crouched a little. His hand moved towards his back pocket. A small wave of fear passed through Jack. Was he about to become a dead hero, or a wounded one at least? Still he continued forward.
Time seemed to pause briefly. The would-be thief hesitated, hand half way into his pocket. He glanced at the man coming towards him and at the now aroused spectators. He turned and ran out the mall door.
Jack had no interest in pursuit. He turned to the woman who had fallen and put out his hand to help her up. “Are you all right?” he asked. At the same moment the small, tight group of spectators applauded.
Jack glanced up. He had barely been aware of the others. Why the applause? Why hadn’t they, too, intervened? That would have been a hell of a lot more useful than slapping their hands together now that it was all over.
He turned his attention back to the woman. She was medium height, with brown hair and quite attractive, perhaps ten years younger than Jack’s forty-seven. “Are you all right?” he repeated again.
She took a deep breath and brushed herself off vigorously, as if trying to brush away the terror. “Yes, I’m ok. Thank you.” She took another deep breath and said it again. “Thank you.”
“I’m Jack Wilson. Are you sure?”
“Yes, just a little shaky. I’m Victoria Thomas, Vicky.”
Both paused. It was a moment of uncertainty. Then Jack said, “You look as if you could use some break time. Can I buy you a cup of coffee? I’ll even throw in a doughnut.”
Vicky hesitated, then glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry. But I have to be some place in a few minutes.”
“Ah, Ok!” Jack said quickly to cover his embarrassment over the rebuff. “No problem. I’m sure you have lots to do.”
Vicky jumped back in. “But look. I’m free tonight. How about I buy you and your wife dinner?”
“I’m not married, and you don’t owe me anything. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. A lot of others could have done the same thing.”
Vicky glanced around and then in a soft voice, “Could have, sure. Would have? I doubt it.”
“I do owe you, and it will be fun getting to know something about my rescuer." She didn't give him time to say no. "Is Larson's all right? It's easy and the food is good. I'll meet you there at 7:30.”
With that and a smile she was off.
Jack was left standing with several people who wanted to shake his hand. He felt strange playing the hero. Heroes are brave. They know what they are doing. His act was total impulse. But they seemed nice enough, especially the women. The men were more reserved, a bit guilty perhaps, or jealous, or both. But they shook his hand or slapped him on the back. The praise made him feel damn good, and, deserve it or not, he wasn't about to turn away.
There were offers of coffee or beer. Before noon, he thought? One woman looked like she wanted to slip him her number. Jack said no to the drinks. He was a little tempted to see if he was right about the woman but saw little chance of being alone with her. And besides, one new date in a day was scary enough. He said his good-byes and, after a stop at the bookstore, headed to his car. It was a bright October day, just cool enough for the trees that surrounded the parking lot to be adding small bits of color, mostly traces of orange or red, to their leaves.
Driving home Jack’s thoughts were a mixture of pleasure over his intervention and apprehension about the evening ahead. He should have said no. He hadn't done much dating since Pam died. A couple of dates, a couple of duds. Mostly he was the dud. Dating had changed. He hadn't.
Once home Jack tried to calm himself with a few crackers and slices of cheese, a can of iced coffee and his new Connelly. But he couldn't get into it, which said something about his state of mind. If he couldn't get into a Harry Bosch story, it wasn't a day for reading.
It wasn’t an afternoon for grading papers either. But at least he went through the motions, which put him on the same level with most of his students. There were a few bright spots though, enough to keep him in love with his job. But even they didn’t take his mind off his dinner engagement. Pacing didn’t help much either, nor did some nonsense on television, a program incredibly entitled “Reality Re-Run.” Finally it was time to get ready.
What to wear was Jack’s next challenge. He rejected at least five combinations before he decided on tan kakis and a medium weight dark brown sweater. He shaved, showered and brushed his teeth - twice. He was ready. The problem was he was 45 minutes early, and the restaurant was five-minute away. Should he have a drink to calm his nerves? And smell like booze? No way. Back to the television set. Boring. He decided to drive the tension away.
After exploring every cul-de-sac and one-way street in town, Jack headed for his destination. He cruised past the restaurant several times. He thought of just blowing the whole thing off. He had his fix for the day in her soft smile when she insisted on buying him dinner. Why ruin the memory with an awkward evening? But what if it wasn't awkward? What if it was a beginning and not an ending?
When Jack finally pulled into the parking lot, he was five minutes late. He hurried in, sped past the hostess, stopped at the dining room entrance and checked out the room. The colors were rich browns and tans. Great! Jack thought. I dressed to match the restaurant. The lights were low and the place had a slightly romantic look, unusual for a mall restaurant, even one detached and separated by a parking lot. At first he didn’t see her. Feelings of relief and disappointment fought for primacy. Disappointment won, but then Jack spotted Vicky. She was at a window able in the right corner of the room.
Vicky saw Jack at the same moment and smiled as she gave him a small wave. He hurried over. “I’m sorry I’m late. No excuses, just sorry.”
“I was afraid you weren’t coming,” Vicky said. “I thought I was being stood up.” Her smile said she wasn’t serious, at least not totally.
“I considered it,” Jack admitted. “I don’t want you to feel any obligation. I just happened to be there today.”
“I don’t think so,” said Vicky, “but let’s forget all that and just have fun. First tell me what you would like to drink, and then tell me about yourself.”
“A glass of red wine would be great.”
“Perfect,” replied Vicky. “That’s what I want too.”
The wine appeared quickly. Vicky raised hers to Jack’s, touched it and said, “To the good and the few.” They both sipped. “That sounds almost like a Marine commercial. I must watch too much TV.”
Jack leaned back and relaxed. “What do you like? On TV, I mean.”
“That was a quick change. You seem much more relaxed than you did a minute ago. I must have chosen a good wine.”
“You did,” Jack replied. “But it isn’t just the wine. I’m a social sipper. Wine, coffee, a drink in my hand and I relax. And, of course, the pleasure of your company helps. You make it easy.”
Vicky smiled again at the compliment. “Back to you. You said you’re not married. Mind if I as you why?”
“My wife died about a year ago.”
“I’m sorry. Children?”
“I have two. My son works for a start-up firm in the Bay Area. My daughter is a teacher like her dad. But enough about me,” Jack said. “Now it’s your turn.”
“Not so fast,” said Vicky. “Tell me about you, here and now.”
Jack, even sipping, was uncomfortable in this spotlight. The waiter saved him.
“Would you like refills on your drinks?”
“Yes,” Vicky replied, “and I think we will order when you bring them. Is that all right?” She asked across the table.
Jack nodded yes and picked up his menu.
She did the same and seeming to read Jack's mind, said, "Ignore the price side. You look like a steak man to me."
“All right, the New York." Settling into the reaction role. "Medium please."
The waiter returned with their wine.
"My friend will have the New York, medium. Baked potato, right?"
“Yes, no sour cream, extra butterplease."
"I'll have the sole. And two house salads."
The waiter left and Jack picked up his fresh glass. “Now it's your turn. All about yourself.”
"Nothing exciting. I'm divorced. I have two children. I teach Creative Writing at the JC."
He tried to hide the small surge of excitement he felt when she said divorce. "Your children, tell me more about them.”
"Of course they are mine.” She noticed his embarrassment and quickly added, “I was teasing. Sean is ten, Amy is seven.”
“Noted" he said quickly. “What do you like to do?”
“Travel. I love to travel. I like reading, movies, occasionally the theater. What about you?"
"Mostly the same, except I am not big on theater. For some reason film has always seemed more real to me than the stage. And sports. I like some sports a lot.”
After a few more exchanges, their dinners arrived.
The food went down easily, accompanied by sides of quiet laughter as each told small stories about life’s pleasures and embarrassments. They had cleaned their plates and were enjoying their coffee, when the bad moment came.
Jack had decided to take a chance. “This has been a super evening,” he said.
Vicky smiled and nodded in agreement.
“I would like to do it again.” Jack said. “Soon.”
Vicky’s smile vanished, replaced by a look of surprise and then sadness. “I'm so sorry. I thought you knew. But then, how could you? I am so stupid.”
“Thought I knew what?”
“But of course you had no way of knowing,” I'm in a very serious relationship - probably on the way to marriage. Please forgive me?”
Jack took several moments but he couldn’t totally cover his embarrassment. “There is nothing to forgive. I was being presumptuous.”
“No you weren’t. And if things were different with me…”
“I need to go,” Jack interrupted.
Vicky was wise enough not to argue. She looked up as he stood and turned to leave. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.
As he drove home, Jack’s disappointment was a cloud hovering over him. He drove into his garage, turned off the motor and slumped back, prepared to sink into his misery. Instead, to his surprise he remembered his righteous feeling at the mall, when he intervened, and the grateful look in Vicky’s eyes. The crowd’s strokes weren’t half bad either. And laughter at dinner was better than dessert. There will be other women, he thought, other chances. As for now, he decided, having been king for a day felt awfully good.
END
