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Rated: 13+ · Other · Other · #2023601
They owed it all to a man named, Freddy
“What on earth?” the man who had come out of nowhere asked. “Seriously, what is it with you kids?” He stood there shaking his head over something he seemed to find pretty funny. “I have to know. Please..." again with his head shaking, struggling to get it out, "Forgive me for interrupting, but seriously! What on earth are you... You don’t even talk to each other. I mean, good God! I have been watching you! Both of you! How the hell do you two stand yourselves?” The man leaned over their table and put his palms down flat on their plastic, checkered tablecloth, turning his head, looking at the boy then at the girl, back and forth. His mouth slightly open, a grin maybe…maybe not.

“What’s up, dude?” It was the boy who spoke now, finally, having tried to catch up to what the man was saying. The boy leaned back in his chair. “Chill,” he added, raising his hands, one of which held a cell phone.

The boy’s name was Martin, on his first date ever, and Martin knew it was up to him to deal with this. He had to say something; though he had no idea what it was he should say. The question was…what… How do we stand ourselves? The man, this thin man who suddenly was standing at their table, this tall, old, thin guy, maybe thirty, maybe older, dressed nicely with dopey eyeglasses, tortuous-shell eyeglasses--a man Martin had never set eyes on before and who now seemed determined to get to the bottom of something.

Martin looked across to Gina. She returned his look, no answer in her eyes, nothing Martin could recognize for he didn't know her very well. Maybe her eyes were showing what might have been an amused fear, or maybe not so amused. They both looked back to the man who was still waiting for an answer, still leaning on their table, still bound and determined over something--was his question really, How do we stand ourselves?

“You don’t talk to each other,” the man said again. He stood up straight, taking his hands off the table now and turned to face the left side of the mostly empty pizzeria, looking to the bar where he had been sitting with a group of three other business types. “They don’t say a word to each other,” he said to the men over there. “I just want to know…” he spread his hands, lost for words, the men at the bar looking over. “Why? I mean, why go out together and just…" he pantomimed using a cell phone. "What on earth are they doing? They don’t—they just…” he stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth and continued the motions of holding an invisible cell phone and wiggling his thumbs.

Air-texting, Martin thought, liking the term, he put it into a text on his phone with a question mark to Gina who read it on her own phone and laughed a good strong laugh looking up from her phone to Martin and then went back to reading the text again and laughing again. She laughed a third time, this time with her head back and her eyes closed.

Her laughter sounded wonderful to Martin’s ears. Like baby diamonds tinkling into a tin cup. Suddenly Martin was enjoying himself. They were eating at five O’clock because they had a movie to go to. A movie Martin’s older brother told him was a good “Date Movie”. Martin asked what a good “date movie” meant, and his brother had smiled and said with any luck maybe he would find out.

“I just don’t get it, that's all!” the man said. He threw up his arms in defeat.

“Leave ‘em alone, Freddy,” one of the men at the bar said.

Martin watched “Freddy” weaving his way through the other tables, all empty, back to the bar. “I mean I really, truly, don’t get it…” he said from over there.

The three other men at the bar turned their attention back to the bartender and to the TV overhead, and to themselves in the mirror behind the bar. None of them looked at their friend, the guy named, Freddy, as he sat back down at the bar in the middle.

Right then their pizza arrived. The waiter set it down in the middle of the table and walked away without a word. Martin and Gina ignored the pizza though it smelled awesome. They leaned toward each other across the table, their eyes wide with wonder and amusement, and said the words destined to be repeated fondly as an inside joke for the next six and a half decades of their lives together; words that would make them smile in old age and roar with laughter now, because that's what you do when you're on your first date together and you say the same exact thing at the same exact time: “What on earth…?”

--846 Words --
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