The Lonely Woman

The Lonely Woman

I like the idea of eating tapas. You can order a number of small, differing dishes with totally different tastes that allow you to experience an array of foods without stuffing yourself. Tonight I ordered a cold shrimp dish, a romaine salad, a duck confit and some braised lamb. I stayed away from the bread and potatoes and drank only bottled water. It was more than enough for me and much better for the body. In the past I might have wanted a Caesar salad, a huge T-Bone, loaded baked potato and asparagus with Hollandaise sauce. Dessert would have been a must with a cappuccino to finish. That was all in my past.

I was finished eating and was down to my last few swallows of water when I spotted her. She was standing outside of the area designated for the bar, but was not in the dining room. I figured her to be about twenty-five, no older than that. She was a big woman, maybe five-eleven, very heavy and had a head of dark hair that looked like a tornado. Her face wasn’t pretty, but she wasn’t altogether unattractive. The dress she wore fit poorly and was a hideous pattern. If she hadn’t been so tall her weight would have made her look huge. As it was, she was very large, well in excess of two hundred pounds.

I don’t know why I paid attention to her, why I stayed to watch what happened, but I sensed something was wrong. A hostess approached her and the woman told her there would be a party of eight. The hostess said there would be a bit of a wait while they set up the table. The woman thanked her. She then looked about the restaurant in search of anyone, but hopefully someone she knew. I could see her sigh with the realization that she was the only one of her party to arrive. She took her cell phone out of her purse and began to search thru it. I wondered if they were phone numbers, texts or old emails that she was glancing at. I would never know. After maybe ten minutes of this, no one else from her party arriving, she returned the phone to her purse.

A few minutes later, the hostess returned and told her their table was ready if she wished to be seated. She told the hostess that would be great and she was led to a table with eight settings near the front window of the restaurant. I still had an excellent view of her. She took a seat with her back to the window, the tornado obviously present to all those from the outside. Her remaining party members would have no trouble finding her.

I finished my water and told the waiter I didn’t need anything else and then proceeded to watch her for another twenty minutes. Every ten minutes or so the phone would come out of the purse and she would browse the old numbers or messages. She did this twice since sitting down at the table. Each time the phone was returned to her purse; there were no signs of anyone else from her party. She had been there over a half an hour. It was past eight o’clock.

I got up from my small table in the bar and made my way across the dining room towards the woman. I could see her glance towards the front entrance each time there was any movement in that area, but still no recognition of anyone. Still no one else from the party of eight had arrived. I was almost standing right in front of her before she noticed me.

“Do you mind if I join you?” I said.

I think my question caught her off guard because of the surprised look on her face. She looked up at me for the first time and I noticed her dark, piercing eyes. She wasn’t as unattractive as I thought. I actually detected some beauty in the face. “I am waiting for my friends,” she said flatly. There was no smile, no hint of anything.

“I could join you until they get here,” I said.

As soon as I said it, I recollected memories of the day I’d been asked as a nine year old to come to Chase Park at ten am on Saturday to play ball with a group of the third graders. My mother was so excited that I’d been asked to play; my father wore a proud look on his face. Mother packed me a snack and a cold drink; the weather was going to be in the eighties. My father oiled my glove and even asked me if I wanted to play a game of catch that night. I told him I was fine.

When the next day came, I left my house in plenty of time to get there early. They told me they always played on Field # 3, closest to Clark Street. I got to the diamond well before ten and no one else had arrived. I sat in one of the dugouts and looked out at the field. I envisioned hitting a homerun or maybe getting a hit that drove in the winning run. A smile crossed my face. I thought it must be getting close to ten and then I heard the bells of St. Mike’s chiming away. I waited maybe ten, fifteen minutes more and I knew. I knew they weren’t coming. I knew that I had been duped. Why would anyone want to play baseball with a fat, little kid like me? I sat in the dugout long enough to feel sorry for myself and to work myself into some good tears. Then I got up and went onto the field. I stood in the batter’s box and took an imaginary swing, hitting the ball so far that even a fat kid could leg a homer out of it. I ran the bases, sliding into second and then into third. I got my newly oiled glove totally covered with infield dust. I stopped and ate my snack as eleven was chimed out by the bells and then noon. I walked home and found both my mother and father on the porch awaiting my return. I told them how nice the boys had been and how much fun I’d had. I told them I got a hit to tie the game, but to add reality, told them we’d lost in the ninth inning. The smiles on their faces were something I’d never forget. They never asked why I wasn’t invited back to play again. I wondered if they’d followed me and knew the truth. My glove sat in the closet for years after that day, my last attempt at baseball. It wasn’t the last time I was the butt of someone’s joke.

“They should be along shortly,” she said.

I pulled out one of the chairs across the table from her and sat down. I extended my hand. “Alex Rivers,” I said.

She looked at my hand like you would look at a cockroach, but then shook it gingerly. “You can stay for a bit, but I think my friends will be along shortly.”

I nodded. “Do you have a name?”

“Antoinette DeMars, but most people call my Toni.” She had yet to smile.

“Well, Toni, your group has picked an excellent place for tapas. What time was everything supposed to get underway?”

She looked nervously towards the entrance and back to me. “By seven forty-five. They all thought they could get here by then. I live the closest so they asked me to get the table.”

It was now past eight-fifteen. No one else had arrived. “Were they all coming together?”

“I don’t know,” she blurted. “They should be here by now, at least a few of them.”

“Are they close friends?”

“Not really.” She took a sip from the glass of water in front of her. “They are people that I know from work. I have never been out with them. Mary Rhodes and Justine Miller told me about tonight, asked me to come along. I really don’t know who the other five were.”

I nodded again. “Are you friends with Mary and Justine?”

“They are two girls in the same department as me. I don’t know them that well. They suggested dinner. I thought it was a good idea. I had looked forward to it.” As she finished, I could see the tears building in her eyes, but refusing to roll down her face. She defiantly willed the ducts to stop.

I proceeded carefully. “This happened to me once when I was a young child. I was told to show up somewhere to play baseball and no one else showed up. I was too young to understand it, but it hurt. It took a while for me to figure out what was going on, that I was an outcast, and then I decided to do something about it. I learned about diet and exercise and how to look better. By the time I got out of college I was a different person and the teasing and the jokes stopped, but I never forgot them.”

The look on her face was not anger, maybe surprise, but, I think, more disbelief. “You don’t think these girls are pulling a joke on me?”

“It’s now eight-twenty-five. Seven other people are supposed to be here. None have arrived. Don’t you think that’s a bit odd?”

“I never believed they would do that. It never crossed my mind. When I was younger, yes. I was always the big, fat girl with no friends. I was the brunt of many jokes. Somehow I made it through school and into the work force. I never thought all of that would follow me there.”

“People are cruel. Would you like something to drink?”

“No, that’s nice of you, Alan, but I think my group will be along soon.”

“Alex,” I said, smiling. “That’s fine. I hope they do come along. I’d be more than willing to have a drink with you until they come. I’ve already eaten, but I can sit here while you eat if they don’t come. I don’t mind keeping you company.”

“I don’t need your sympathy,” she said loudly, “and, anyway, they are coming. I appreciate your concern, but you have made a mistake. If you don’t mind, I would prefer to wait on my own.”

“I’m sorry if I intruded,” I said and then I stood and headed for the exit. It took another five minutes or so for the valet to bring my car. When he had, I settled in and adjusted the stereo. I had nothing more to do that night. I was not fat or ugly any longer, but I was alone. It had been hard to trust people after all of those years. No one mocked me or made fun of me, but solid relationships were still an issue for me. I wasn’t sure I wanted one or knew how to deal with it.

I put the car in drive and started out. I had to do one more thing. I circled the block and pulled up in front of the large window facing the street from the tapas place. Toni DeMars and her head of tornado hair were still at the table, no one else present. I could see her checking her cell phone for messages, emails or texts that she had missed.