The maître d’ looked up
from his clipboard and called to the crowd gathered along the sidewalk,
"Jack? Party of two? Your table is ready."
The waitress showed them
to their outdoor table, leaving menus and promising to return shortly to take
their order. It was a beautiful
day, and well worth the half-hour wait for the table with its view of the
park.
Even after the couple had been seated, they were both visibly
tense. The couple had only been dating
for a little over a month and there were still those awkward, uncomfortable
breaks in their conversation when they were alone.
They were still smiling and talking softly, when the young girl
walked awkwardly up to the table. The
first thing they noticed was that the girl was very pregnant--she was
obviously due in the next week or two.
"Jack?" the girl asked.
"What is this?"
From the anguished look on her face, she was obviously hurt. Her voice was both angry and pleading. "Who is she?" she
asked, pointing to the seated woman.
The young woman sitting across the table looked first at the
young girl, then back at Jack. With wide
eyes, she asked, "Do you know her?"
Jack had not moved since the young girl had walked up to the
table, his pale face seemed drained of blood as he began to stammer. "I...I..I d-don't know..." he
began.
"Jack!" the pregnant girl wailed. "I've been calling you for weeks! I've left word at work, I've left messages on
your machine. Why won't you answer my
emails? You've been avoiding me ever
since you found out we were going to have a baby! I love you!"
By now, the young girl was crying profusely. As the tears ran down her face, Jack just sat
there slowly shaking his head.
On the other side of the table, the young woman leaned forward,
pointing at the man's ashen face.
"She obviously knows you, Jack.
Who is she?"
"But I've never seen her before...," Jack began.
The pregnant woman interrupted, practically screaming,
"Jack! You are the father of
our child!"
Conversation had all but stopped in the restaurant. At every table, people strained to listen to
the drama, while trying, unsuccessfully, to appear as if they weren't
listening. No one looked at the three
people at the central table, but heads were tilted carefully to catch every
word.
By now, both women at the table were crying. The young woman jumped up and ran from the
table, out onto the sidewalk and down the street, only a few feet ahead of Jack
as he ran after her.
The young girl carefully lowered herself into a chair at the table,
and buried her face into a cloth napkin.
The waitress came up and placed a comforting hand on the girl's
arm. "Would you like a glass of
water?" she asked.
The young pregnant girl just nodded her head as she continued to
sob into the napkin.
By the time the young man arrived, the young girl was more
composed and was repairing her makeup as the young man carefully moved through
the crowded chairs to her table.
"Been waiting long?" he asked as he leaned over to kiss
her cheek.
"No," the young girl smiled as she answered. "I just got here."
As he sat down, he glanced toward the long line of patrons
waiting for a table. Turning back to his
girlfriend he asked, "Then how did you get the table so quick?"
"Silly! People always
give a table to a pregnant woman!"
My wife had a friend who told here a story like this one once. It was about a guy who was hunting a deer. It was a long involved story complete with tension, excitement and more than a little pathos. It went on for 15 or 20 minutes. In the end the hunter is standing over the bleeding body of the magnificent 12 point buck, weeping because he has injured this brave and beautiful creature and as the story reaches its climax, the buck lifts his head and says, "That's alright. My typewriter won't work either."
ReplyDeleteMy wife is still trying to figure that story out and she's still mad at the friend who told it to her. This story is kind of like that. I figured it out finally. The pregnant girl stole the booth from the first couple, but I wasn't sure the guy who showed up later, apparently oblivious to what went on before wasn't Jack, but the pregnant girl's boyfriend. Deliberate pronoun obtusity is a sin punishable by thwacks on the knuckles. Please present yourself to the nearest convent and tell the sisters what you have done. They will be glad to administer punishment.