Smoke and Mirrors

Mr. Brody

He sat in the same comfortable chair he always sat in when he was meeting a date. And although the dates never repeated, the women were all the same.

They'd take one look at him and judge.

He was incredibly tall, though he had a taut, athletic body. His hair was buzz-cut short and he had a terrible scar running the length of his face. That wasn't the only reason why his dates were never repeated. He also had three fingers missing on his left hand and a prosthetic leg.

When a date walked in the restaurant and sat down with him, she immediately assessed his appearance and decided he wasn't worth her time.

Oh, they stayed and ate the excellent dinner he provided for them. They even pretended to find him interesting and laughed at all the right times, though afterwards they never returned his calls or messages once the "date" was over.

Mr. Brody knew they didn't like his looks, and became more and more disheartened every time he went on one of these dates. Not because they didn't like his looks, he'd long ago accepted that reality. But what saddened him was that they were all the same.

He wasn't affected by their looks. He really didn't care how they dressed or what hair style they favored. He simply wanted each woman to be something other than what they were.

"Are you waiting on a date, Mr. Brody?" Jessie asked as she put a glass of water down for him, interrupting his thoughts about the dates he had lined up.

"Yeah," he said, though it came out on a sigh.

"Maybe this one will be different," Jessie said, gifting him with a soft smile.

"Who knows? After all this time, they all seem the same." He dragged his eyes to the glass of water and took in a deep breath.

"Maybe you're looking in the wrong places," she retorted, a bit too snippy for his liking.

Mr. Brody looked at Jessie and thought maybe she was having a bad day, so he excused her small outburst.

"Sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed. "I'll be back when your lady friend joins you."

Mr. Brody nodded once, and went back to his glass of water.

He'd been in this very restaurant for every blind date he'd had since...since...since she left him.

Jessie walked away, leaving Mr. Brody to silently brood, waiting for his date to arrive. He already knew it would be like every other date he'd had.

In a few moments, a beautiful, leggy blonde approached him and asked if he was her date.

Like the gentleman that he was, Mr. Brody stood and held his hand out to introduce himself to her. The leggy blonde took it, but her eyes went directly to his missing fingers and sucked in a deep breath as she gingerly shook his hand.

Yep – another one bites the dust, he thought as her face fell and she snatched her hand back out of his.

"Would you care for some wine?" he asked as he rounded the table to pull out her chair so she could sit.

As he returned to his side of the table, her calculating blue eyes went straight to his obvious limp, and her mouth twisted in disgust.

"Why are you limping? Have you been injured?" she asked.

"It's a prosthetic leg," he answered candidly.

"Oh," she said as she tucked a piece of loose hair behind her ear.

Suddenly, remembering she was on a date (a first date – obviously) she straightened her shoulders and delicately rested her little bottom in the chair and waited for Mr. Brody to sit again.