Voilà

Story at a Downtown Bar

DEAN'S PERSPECTIVE

It was a bitterly cold evening and I had recently ended my year-long relationship. Addison, I realized, was keener on emptying my wallet than staying with me. So I gave her the red signal and chose solitude. I was enjoying my single, Addison- free life, working hard, knowing that nothing untoward was going to happen to my kitchen. I shuddered when the images of Addison breaking an egg in my kitchen floated through my mind.

I entered Joe's on Firth Street and squeezed my way through a bunch of loud girls on a hen night, and ordered a beer. I had an overwhelming urge to talk to this girl standing a couple of meters to my right. She was in her work clothes, casual and formal. I sensed an aura of calm around this tall, slim woman.

Sipping from my glass, I conjured up possible scenarios. She was a Saturday mom, having a restorative pint after showing her children armadillos or Egyptian artifacts in museums before heading home. The husband would be astonishingly dashing, obviously (I had already assessed her striking dark eyes, her cute dimple). Or maybe she was single and putting off the miserable business of going home to a chilly flat and a meal for one. Yet another scenario seemed right. There was no wedding ring, nor did she seem like someone who'd limp off home to peel the foil lid off shrunken lasagna. She's probably just waiting for her boyfriend, I decided, feeling foolish for letting my thoughts run away from me. The woman glanced at me as my mobile rang.

"Dean?" Aryan asked.

"Yes Aryan?" I said. After clearing Aryan's doubt about the next day's assignment, I caught the woman's eye as I finished my call.

How could I start talking to her? All my life, I had stumbled into relationships with no chatting up required and now, the only thing I could think to mention was how much I hated 'Eye of the Tiger', which was playing rather loudly right now. But what if she liked it? I glanced at her again. She seemed thoughtful, bookish and unpretentious- the kind of girl who'd prefer to dine in a casual Italian place than a high-end establishment.

I chewed my lip and tried out possible conversation openers. "Hi, it's a rotten night out there." To which she'd reply, "Yes." And then there'd be a horrible silence. "I hate this record, don't you?" I'd add with a strained laugh. And she'd say, "Do you?" Because by this time, 'Eye of the Tiger' would have stopped, and it'd be something like Marvin Gaye singing 'What's Going On?' and I would have to bluster that it was the last one I hated. "What was the last one?" she'd ask, backing away from him and looking for the quickest exit route.

What on earth was wrong with me? I was single. I was twenty-seven years old. Why couldn't I act like a normal guy? It wasn't that I lacked confidence. Yet I couldn't figure out how to talk to a pretty girl in a bar, even though she had glanced at me on several occasions and, crucially, wasn't giving the impression that she thought I looked like a hideous guy who raped girls in dark alleys.

Then I found myself turning to her and saying, "Hey"

"Hi," she said smiling. God, her smile was nice-sweet, warm and genuine.

"Horrible night out there."

"Yes, it is," Small pause. I took a gulp of my drink.

"Waiting for someone?" I asked.

"Um, I was, but she just called to say she can't make it." She smiled broadly. "So I guess I'll just finish this drink and go home."

"Well," I said, "it doesn't look like the person I'm meeting is going to show up either."

"Really? Who's that?" she asked.

I grinned and paused, wondering how much information to divulge. "Err... I don't really know," I said. "I mean, I've never met her. We've just emailed a couple of times."

"Blind date?"

I knew she had guessed it right. Yes, I was on a blind date. I had resorted to Guardian Soul mates after dumping Addison, which was a stupid decision. I nodded.

"Guardian Soul mates. I know it sounds a bit..."

"No, not at all, it sounds fine...," she said.

"I'm not even sure it's the best way to go about things," I added. "In fact, Guardian Soul-destroyers would be more apt." I laughed and pushed back my dark brown hair self-consciously.

"Had a few bad experiences then?" she asked with a smile.

I shrugged. "Let's just say it's been pretty eventful so far. Anyway I'm Dean."

"Mia." And that was that. We talked, not about whatever god awful song was on the jukebox, but about our lives. By 10:30, in a cozy Italian restaurant, I found myself telling Mia about Addison's kitchen fiascoes and how she spent half her life in shopping malls and trial rooms, while she confessed to hiding her ex-boyfriend's guitar after she calculated that he must have played the same song one hundred times. I learnt that, while Mia's job as an advertising copywriter sounded glamorous, her latest campaigns had been for mould-repelling tile grout and a toilet deodorizing brick that came in six different scents inspired by the wild herbs of the Corsican Marquis.

"Seriously?" I exploded with laughter.

"Unfortunately yes- we're talking thyme, lavender, sage... the range is called 'The Scented Isle'."

"So you can have your own Scented Isle in your toilet? I never knew that."

"Err, yes if you really want one."

"Cheaper than a package holiday," I suggested, noticing how Mia's eyes crinkled when she laughed.

"You know," she added, "we might use that line."

Thank God my date didn't turn up, I thought a little while later as we stepped out into the cold night and hailed a cab together. Mia didn't know me- not really. As I dropped her off at her flat, after we had swapped numbers, I'd kissed her briefly. I had decided that she would not bother to pretend she was too busy to see me for at least a week. She'd be calling me the very next day, to hell with it.