Searching for Mr. Darcy

Scene Fifty-Four

They were early enough to the club that they got seats at a table right next to the stage.  After ordering a beer each, they took turns guessing the life stories of the other people attending the show.

"Okay - that couple behind us?" Maisie gestured with a slight tilt of her head.  Marcus practiced the art of male subtlety and completely turned in his chair to see who she referred to.  She slapped his knee under the table to regain his attention.  "This is their six-month anniversary.  He's taking it very seriously - booked these tickets a month ago, made a reservation at Oro for tapas beforehand, sent flowers to her office today.  She, on the other hand, has been planning on breaking up with him for two weeks, but hasn't yet because he's really good in bed."

Marcus chuckled.  "That's both great for him and sad for him.  My turn!"  He swiveled around and locked eyes with the server: a tall, gangly man in his late twenties or early thirties with a man bun.  "Our next contestant," Marcus whispered, "is a grad student at State working on his third degree."

"Oooooh.  What's he studying?"

"Horticulture.  And entomology."

"Interesting.  What else?"

"Well, he gets really mad when people assume he loves microbrews just because of his hair.  He's considered cutting it many times, but it pisses his mother off so much, he always ends up keeping it."

"You're good at this game," Maisie said.  "My turn."  She picked a woman with long red hair sitting alone at the back of the room, nursing a glass of red wine.  "She is waiting on her wife, who was supposed to be here ten minutes ago."

"That's not going to go down well when she finally shows," Marcus said.

"Nope.  And this is not a woman you want to piss off.  She's an expert at the silent treatment.  She also asks to see the manager at every restaurant she goes to."

"To complain?"

"Yes, but also to tell them when she had particularly good service or food."

"That's nice of her."

"I think so, too."

Marcus grabbed Maisie's arm.  "Look, look!"  Another woman had arrived and taken the seat beside Maisie's current case study.  The two women shared a brief peck on the lips and the early one opened her purse to pull out Kleenex for the late one.  "Wow - spot on, Maze.  How'd you know she was a lesbian?"

She shrugged.  "It was just a guess. I didn't want our game to be too heteronormative."

"Can I profile the wife?"

"Absolutely."  Maisie sipped her beer and watched with increasing giddiness as Marcus really got into his description.

He began: "She's the chill one in the relationship - little things like dirty dishes in the sink or sleeping through the alarm don't bother her."

"I can see that."

"But-" he paused, "-she has crippling anxiety when it comes to driving or traveling.  She always goes under the speed limit, uses her high beams any time she's driving at night - regardless of the other lights in the area - and turns her blinkers on way too early."

Maisie laughed.  "That's why she was late."

He nodded.

"We should write these down.  They can be characters in our great American novel."

"Oh, we're writing a novel together now?"

"Sure! Gotta use those communications degrees for something more exciting than selling homes and ad concepts."

The lights flickered and the empty seats around the room filled up as ticket holders entered from the bar and restaurant downstairs.  Their server came to ask about another round, and the opening act began shortly after that.

Through the first comedian, Maisie naturally turned to Marcus whenever she found a joke funny.  His laugh was like a warm hug, so comforting and familiar.  She felt sixteen again.  By the time the headliner came on stage, Marcus had moved his chair closer to her, their legs touching.

When the show ended, he paid for their drinks, pushing her card away when she offered, and they walked to the parking lot hand-in-hand.

"This was a lot of fun," he said.

"It was - I'm so glad we got together."

"Would it be presumptuous of me to invite you back to my place?"

"No, but I can't.  I promised my nephew an early trip to the Museum of Art tomorrow."

He stepped closer and pulled her towards him.  "I'll guess we'll just have to do it again, then."  He kissed her, hands moving to either side of her face.  She sighed into it, letting herself press against him and tuning out the people passing by with their jangling keys and reenactments of the evening's best jokes.

When they parted, she kept her eyes closed for an extra second, memorizing the feel of his lips on hers.  "Are you free tomorrow night?"

He smiled and tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear.  "What do you want to do?"

"Anything."