Pup & Ben, Part 4

It was a warm sunny evening, twilight not yet quite in the air, so I drove up to East Greenwich with the top down, not in any kind of panic, not really anxious at all, since Katie hadn't seemed upset when I said I was running late. I wasn't worried about the date, either. I knew, from how we'd spoken to each other so far, that we could have at least one fun evening together. At worst, there'd be no magic, and I'd go mopily back to serving coffee and studying geology. I was worried most that we'd get along, and I'd like her a lot, but she'd have cooled on me because of our age difference.

I arrived, a mere 20 minutes late, grabbed the rose off the passenger's seat, and walked up to the door.

Now one thing I haven't much dwelt on, but it was already important: Katie had explained why she was in Rhode Island, to take care of her grandmother Duggin, who was suffering from cancer (third time, in fact). It didn't take long for a general guess at the character of this woman to form in my head: small, delicate with age but still intense, somewhat severe. (As it's turned out, I overestimated the severity a bit...substitute that with a generous sense of humor.) But I had a slight bit of trepidation that Duggin might pose herself as Katie's guardian, and make the beginning of the evening a bit awkward, but no such thing. It was unfair to Duggin, thinking she might pull a stunt like that. No way did she want to interfere in Katie's date.

I knocked on the door, and Katie opened it. She was as tall as ever, only now wearing a black dress, no sleeves and knee-length. I saw what I'd been waiting for since Saturday night: that beautiful smile which told me she was glad to see me. I knew right then that we'd have a great time. And I also felt one other thing...

I'm not one to look for omens. I go through the better part of my life matter-of-factly, and though I enjoy complaining as much as anybody, I know in the end that I generally create my own problems. I certainly never look for a sign as a rescue from something I feel too weak or unwilling to contend with. I think of omens in the same way as I do anything mystical, superstitious or mythical: they're portents only of what's in my own mind. It's not always a straightforward interpretation of what's in my mind, but even so.

That night, when Kate greeted me at the door, I felt just such an omen. We'd both worn black: she her dress, I my blazer. I took that to mean that we'd be together for the rest of our lives.

Not the kind of feeling you want to go projecting too much on a first date, of course. And I spooked myself a bit, thinking, Get a hold of yourself, Mike. Are you that desperate? I hope not. Have a single date first, before worrying about the rest of your life, jeez!

So I gave her the flower, and she smiled again, and I think she left it home in a vase (I honestly forget). I walked her out to the car, and she might have said something about the convertible (maybe we'd already been joking about it on the phone). She did mention that night, Duggin and her grandfather Poppa--he had always driven convertibles, and wanted to ride with the top down, but Duggin never agreed because it would ruin her hair.

(Kate and I have the same debate to this day. I let her win only when we're on our way to something fancy--otherwise, she has to tough it out.)

So she won that night (it was our first date, after all), and we drove up to the restaurant with the top up. I don't remember what we talked about. It was one of those times when conversation flows so easily that you don't remember it, you only remember the flow, and the ease. Evening had moved from pale to deeper blue by the time we reached the Grille, and we sat in the far corner, on the porch, overlooking the decaying revetments along the Blackstone River, decay made charming by the almost violet light, the calm movement of the water, and the orange light which surrounded Katie and me as we sat talking.

It took us a little while to order (something that's happened more than once since), because we were talking too much, but we finally did. There was only one part of the conversation which I recall distinctly, and that was when we talked about us. (Yes, we talked about us, on our first date. Bad sign, right?)

We'd been sitting in one of those musing, eyes downcast silences when I took her hands in mine, looked her in the eyes, and said, "I was afraid you'd just politely blow me off now, after you'd come to your senses about dating a guy so much older than you." And she looked right back in mine and said, "I was worried you'd lose interest in me, because you're older and have so much more experience."

No need to go into all that experience right now (and it's a good thing my sisters and college frat brothers can't post to this blog), but it was obvious that Kate and I find it easy to agree on things, because we tend to have similar reactions. I mean, our gut reactions were mirror images of each other--kind of pathetic, really.

That little exchange gave the night a delicate but important boost. We now knew that we were each focused on the other, and whatever else happened during the date wouldn't be a distraction (unlike bad dates, when you do nothing but hunt frantically for distractions until it's over...but no need to dwell on that here). We had dinner (I had steak, and I think she had chicken, but I'm not sure), and it was great. Sure, a gourmet cook can do at least as well at home, blah blah blah, I'm fine with that. But going to a nice restaurant is a statement by itself, and the ambiance and service define it as much as the food. And besides, Kate would've made any restaurant fantastic that evening.

Problem was, we'd met at 6:30, and were done eating by about 8:30. That's a little early to end a date, even with a slightly old-fashioned girl like Kate, especially when things were going so well. So I fell back on a little place I knew about, and residents of Providence do too: Prospect Park. It's a tiny little park with a big statue of Roger Williams in it, overlooking downtown from the ridge just above Brown. It's a hugely popular makeout spot for teenagers and college students. And it's not that I was going all 17-year-old on poor Katie. Sure, a quiet, secluded spot is great for a little intimacy, but we already had some great chemistry happening, and I didn't need any artificial boosts. Plain and simple: I like the view. I love city lights and panoramas. (About ten years ago, I took a summer class at UMass Boston, not a good school but an amazing location. Right on Boston Harbor, with a view of the Southeast Expressway from within the library that I'd just let mesmerize me after class. I'd take my book and papers up there, sit down, and maybe do a little studying but otherwise just stare at the headlights and taillights. Like streams of diamonds and rubies...) Anyway, I took Katie to this little park, and she got a glimpse of Providence, and we did snuggle up a bit, but there were too many teenagers sucking face there to make it worth staying, so we left.

So that took up about ten minutes. Not even nine o'clock yet, pretty lame performance by a host who was supposed to be showing the birthday girl, and a newcomer to the town no less, a good time. The old standby would've been to go to a bar and get hammered, but those days of mine are many years past and besides, Katie deserved something much more interesting. I'd seen the IMax theater looming over the downtown mall as we walked away, and suggested that we see what films were playing. Katie seemed up for that, so we headed on over.

Turned out that the only feature playing was Dark Knight, the extremely violent film about Batman fighting an unlaughing terrorist, the Joker. Asked her if she was up for it...and she was, so I bought the tickets.

Problem was, showtime was ten PM, which left us nearly an hour. What to do, what to do...well, down the hall was the adult playpen Dave & Buster's, the video arcade, pool hall, bar and restaurant. I've been there a number of times, and while I didn't feel like playing any stupid video games, pool was a definite possibility. (Besides, it meant that I'd get to watch her play, and I didn't mind that one bit.)

She was game, and we headed over and played. The good thing is, we both kind of stink, so it wasn't a blowout or anything. Though she might say differently...I do recall winning all three games, but I think she was winning the first, but scratched the 8-ball on her final shot and lost by default. Or something like that. I remember her protesting the result, but that's her problem.

After a few games, and a beer or two, we drifted back to the theater for the movie, which I'd seen already but she hadn't. Another great thing about Katie: she has about as much patience as I do for chick flicks. Neither of us like dull shoot-em-ups (well, I'll fall for the occasional Sly Stallone or Chuck Norris, but only when I'm tagging along with a group), but we're both Tarantino fans. (Devoted readers will know that I've talked about Kill Bill, and posted a few images from the films in this blog...we're both Kill Bill fans. I could see Katie and me doing a latin routine, maybe a samba or a paso, in the spirit of those films...though she might not enjoy dancing in a yellow leather jumpsuit very much. Maybe the idea's just a little too bizarre to work. You don't want to overtax a single dance with too much drama. We'll see...)

Anyway, Katie and I went to this flick along with a bunch of teenagers and college kids, looking like we were heading to see an opera at the Met. Everyone else was in shorts, Ts, minis and flip flops, and we're decked out in formal black, and I wasn't far from wearing a tux. But I bought a few Nestles Crunch (that and 100 Grand are my favorite candy bars...though there are quite a few others that come close) snacks, and I forget if she got anything, but we went in and enjoyed the flick. Katie didn't even cringe at some of the more grotesque scenes. We were both still pretty happy when we walked out of there, and we could laugh about how the date had taken a more or less 180-degree turn, from quiet and romantic, to kind of a noisy beer hall, to a really violent action flick. Each one of those could have been its own date, and we'd covered all three, and had an effortless date.

Safe to say I was willing to see her again.

It was after midnight and I was just a bit worried that we might find Duggin in a nightgown, slippers and hair net sitting at the kitchen table waiting for her to return. And it's just as safe to say, that I was underestimating old Dugs. She was sound asleep when we got back, trusting me to take care of Kate, and Kate to take care of herself. Now that's a grandma!

After I dropped Katie off at her door, I told her to wait just a second, went back to my trunk, and lifted out the little paper bag with the bear and the shells in it. "Happy birthday," I told her, and snatched one more kiss before we finally called it a night.

Only, I was five minutes down the road when I remembered that the card I'd signed in haste was still sitting in my trunk. Not great form to go back, especially so late, so I just texted her, apologizing for forgetting the card. No worries, she replied, the night was great enough that one little card wouldn't make a difference.

So the card would have to wait...not like I really needed a hook at this point, but it certainly couldn't hurt.