Risk

Dinner Out

As it was a Monday night, they were both too tired to cook. So they went out for dinner after George had showered and Gina arrived home. There were so many cafés and restaurants to choose from, that they rarely ate at the same place twice. They also weren’t afraid of walking, so would often walk miles from home to find somewhere to eat. Most restaurants had several menu selections catering to vegetarians, so they didn’t usually have a problem.

“Mmm. Georgey, try this. It’s delicious.”

“Mmm. Good. Have a taste of this soup. This is the stuff.”

“Oh, why didn’t I have that? You want to trade?”

“No way! Hands off!”

“Suck. So Anderson finally offered me a promotion today. He said there was no money in the budget for raises, so I could have a lovely token promotion instead. Same job, same money, just a better title. Like this is going to help pay the rent.”

“What a smug little weasel he is. As if he doesn’t know that the job market is tough right now. You should shop around, anyway, just in case. It’d be so nice to shove a resignation in his face.”

“It’s not only tough, it’s impossible. Look at you, still slingin' envelopes after all these years.”

“What’s wrong with that? I like it.” George took a sip of his drink to cool his mouth. How did their conversation take this turn? Again.

“You haven’t even tested the water since you took this job. You’d think you’d at least fire off your resumé once in awhile. Or have you given up on that course altogether?”

“I don’t know. It’s just not an option right now.”

“Well, what about something else? You can’t stay a courier all your life. If the architect thing isn’t going to happen, why not try something else?”

“Something that paid a little better?”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I don’t care, really. But something that lets you use your brains, and yes, maybe make a little more money in the long run. That’s not such a bad thing.”

“Maybe I should just go schleppe around some factory, or become one of these office slaves I see every day. Get some faceless McJob?”

“That’s not your only option. You’re university-educated.”

“In a field that’s all full up, thank-you very much. Not taking any new applications, there’s the door, don’t let it hit you in the ass on the way out.”

“But tell me you don’t care that this job has no future. Do you see yourself doing it in five years, or ten? Is that what you want? ‘Cause if you can tell me that, I’ll shut up right now. ‘Nuff said. I just want you happy.”

He said nothing.

“What about that offer your brother made you?”

“Let’s just drop it.”

Gina rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She was so beautiful when she was fed up with him. She had a great angry hair flip that spoke volumes and when she turned her dark brown eyes away from you and pursed those lips, you knew you were dismissed. That hair looked fantastic but took up huge amounts of her time and effort with various products, relaxers, straighteners, conditioners, hair spray and emergency salon visits. He thought it all unnecessary, as her worst hair crisis looked gorgeous anyway, but don’t be telling a black woman about her hair. That is her own twisted love-hate relationship to manage by herself, with frequent consultations with her mother and various friends and stylists.

From the time they first met in university, her mischievous smile and, it had to be said, tight little figure, had him hooked. They were a bit of an odd couple: he was tall, she was not so tall; kinda nerdy guy, hip chick; he an architect in training, she an English major and secret poet... but both in love from the start. He thought of her as a Jada Pinkett-Smith and he was a Will Smith without the great pecs, Caucasian style.

He was 24 when he graduated with his degree in Architecture. He had hit every firm in town with his resumé, was the eager young kid: “Just take me on at any level and let me prove myself. I’ll sweep the floors to start if I have to.” But his timing was bad, because the economy had just nose-dived into a recession, and nobody was hiring. He couldn’t even volunteer as an architect. And the floors were already being swept, thank-you very much, but they did need someone to do deliveries for the various architect firms around town. Rush deliver plans and blueprints from all the offices to their clients. Kind of like a bicycle courier. And who knows what it may lead to...

What it led to was more courier jobs. For a few years he made some half-hearted attempts to make the rounds with his resume again, but eventually he just gave it up. He was a courier, and that was it. He even liked the job. Loved the freedom of bombing around on his bicycle in the middle of the day while all his former classmates were stuck up in the concrete towers, sweating it out over deadlines.

“What about some dessert?” Gina asked, breaking the silence.

He smiled at the welcome segue. “I think I could handle it.”

After dessert they had a leisurely walk home as the stars began to appear. They had been together since second year. Gina had graduated with her honors English degree, and got a job at an ad agency as a copywriter almost right away. They had talked about marriage a few times, but nothing was ever decided upon. Why bother, unless you were having a kid? And parenthood, if it was on the horizon, seemed a long way away.