Borrowed Time

Thom pulled the chair out for Missy, standing behind it like he had seen in the movies. When she was seated, he walked around the table and sat across from her. A waiter in a black slacks, a white shirt, and a red tie brought a pitcher of water and filled their goblets. Half melted cubes of ices danced in their glasses as he poured.

“We'll need a minute or two,” Missy told the waiter. He nodded and walked away silently. Thom looked at the menu, but he did not focus on the items. He focused on the price. He did not really care what he ate. His palette was not sophisticated enough to distinguish lobster from crab or chicken from pork. Snapper versus trout? All fish tasted the same. He did not want to order the cheapest thing on the menu, since Missy would no doubt consider him cheap. He did not want to order the most expensive either, for more obvious reasons. Missy, for her part, focused on other things. She considered the lobster, but having a whole lobster staring at her sent a shiver down her back; and the thought of cracking and eating it in front of Thom led her to reject it outright. She looked for something easier to eat, but that still spoke of elegance. After reading through the menu twice, she settled on the pork chop. She did not know what harissa was, but she trusted the chef.

“Should we get an appetizer?” she asked Thom.

“We can, if you like. What do you want?”

“Relish tray?”

“If you like,” Thom said. He did not really care. He motioned for the waiter and ordered the relish tray. “Well, happy birthday,” he said to Missy.

She blushed. “Thanks,” she said. “So what do you think?”

“About what?” he asked, although he already suspected.

Missy took a drink. He fingers became moist with condensation from the glass, and she wiped her fingers on the serviette. “Should we get a bottle of champagne or something?”

“If you want,” Thom replied. “I probably won't drink any, since I have to drive.” How much is this going to cost me, he asked himself.

“What do you think about us?” Missy said. She had a habit--a bad one in Thom's estimation--of moving in and out of different topics. She would begin on one subject, stop abruptly, and then start another. After a time, she would pick up the first topic again. He sometimes found her conversations hard to follow. It annoyed him.

“I think,” he said, “I see the relish tray coming.” The waiter put the relish tray between them and placed a gave each of them a small plate. Missy went straight for an olive. Thom abstained.

“I'd like the pork chop,” Missy said, with an olive still in her mouth. The waiter nodded and scribbled on a small piece of paper concealed in his hand. He glanced at Thom.

“Uh, salmon on rice,” Thom said. The waiter scribbled.

“Oh, that sounds good. I'll have that instead,” Missy said. The waiter, sans eraser, drew a line through her first order and noted the salmon. He left to get the champagne.

Although Thom was happy that Missy ordered something a little cheaper than the pork chops, he was annoyed that she had changed her mind so suddenly, and that she had copied his own order. He stared a piece of salami on the relish tray, but did not eat it.

“So,” Missy said, “let's talk about us.” She reached out and took Thom's hand.

“What about us?” though he already knew.

“We've been dating for almost four months,” Missy said. “I think we should be exclusive.”

“We already are from my end,” Thom said stoically. It was a lie, though. He was not sure how convincing he sounded, or whether Missy would believe him.

“Me too,” Missy said. Thom wondered if he believed her. “What do you think? Should we get married then? I mean, I know we haven't known each other that long, but--” The waiter brought the champagne and two glasses. He opened the bottle and poured some for each of the diners. The bubbles hissed as they hit the glasses.

Missy continued. “Haven't you ever thought of getting married and going on to live somewhere far away where all of your past mistakes are just shadows, and where no one knows you and you can start over and give all of yourself to a person?”

Thom was only half paying attention. He was not really hungry, but he eyed the relish tray and obligatorily picked up a piece of pickled cauliflower. He twirled it in his fingers, trying to figure out exactly what it was, and finally popped it in his mouth. He grimaced a little at its pungent sourness. He nodded when Missy stopped talking.

“So you agree?” she asked.

“Oh, look,” Thom said. “Our food is here.” The waiter looked at each plate, even though they were exactly the same. He placed the plates on the table, nodded, and left.

Missy took a forkful of fish and sniffed it gently before tasting. It danced on her tongue. “So when do you want to do it?”

“Huh?”

“When do you want to get married?”

Thom choked on a mouthful of rice. Marriage was not something he had considered--with Missy or with any other woman he was dating. He was young, and just starting out on his own. He did not have much money. He had just started a new job. The idea of moving away, of giving himself to just one person for the rest of his life, did not resonate with him. It had never actually occurred to him at all. “I mean, I have a job,” Thom stammered.

“I just started a few weeks ago. I don't think--”

“Well, we don't really have to go anywhere,” Missy said. “I mean, we can stay in the city, if that is what you want.”

That is what he wanted, just not with Missy. At least, he was not sure. His stomach felt tight. Even though he was not very hungry, he ate his fish slowly but steadily to avoid answering. He could not understand this thing called marriage, this force that bound people to one another, stronger than gravity. Marriage was gravity. It was the center of society, the center of the family, the thing that held it all together. Why would he want to be a part of that? The idea of a family, of kids, of responsibility, sent a shudder down his spine.

Missy broke the silence. “So...what do you think?”

“You look nice,” Thom said to her. It was true. She looked nice in her navy blue dress. It hugged her figure, which was accented by a wide white belt. The blue brought out her eyes, Her light brown hair hung to her shoulders, with the bangs brushed to either side.

“Thanks,” said Missy, blushing. She ate a forkful of rice and washed it down with a sip of champagne.

Thom had so far refrained from the champagne, but the thought of giving his whole self to someone caused him to take a deep draught, nearly emptying the whole glass. Missy giggled as some of the bubbly liquid trickled down his chin and dripped onto his fish. The waiter brought more water.

“Maybe,” said Missy, “we could have a little honeymoon. It wouldn't have to be anything super stupendous or big. Just a few days. Where would you like to go?” she asked Thom.

Home, Thom thought. That is where I want to go. “I don't know,” is what he said. “I'd have to think about it.”

“I was thinking about Michigan, the upper peninsula,” said Missy. It was a cerebral choice. “Forest and water, I find those romantic,” she said. “There are lots of museums there too.”

Thom twitched in his seat. He had finished his meal, and he feared that he could no longer put off answering her. He dabbed the corners of his mouth with his serviette. “Would you like dessert?” he asked her.

“No, not yet. I am still eating my fish. I will probably be too full. What do you think? About Michigan, I mean.”

“There are museums and trees and lakes everywhere,” Thom replied.

“Well, then, we could go somewhere else. Maine, perhaps. That's quite a drive, but it is our honeymoon and so it would be okay to drive that far.”
Missy finished her fish and rice. The waiter appeared promptly to clear away the dishes. Missy declined dessert, but when Thom ordered spumoni, Missy changed her mind. “Ooh, that sounds lovely. One for me as well.” The waiter nodded and left with the dishes.

Thom was running out of time and excuses. He knew that Missy would soon return to the topic of marriage, and he was no closer to figuring out how to answer her than before. How do you tell someone no, especially when the topic is so sensitive? How do you maintain the dishonesty? He did not want to hurt her feelings, but he did not want to give up his own feelings either. How do you balance these sorts of things, he wondered.

Dessert came, two domes of rich rainbow gelato, each with a crispy tuile. Thom found the strawberry palatable, but the chocolate clashed with the taste of salmon that still lingered in his mouth. He took a deep drink of champagne, hoping to wash away the conflicting taste.

“Mmm, this is good,” said Missy. “I am glad I got it.”

The waiter brought the bill and set it next to Thom's right elbow. Thom moved it to his other side and wondered how much. Then, he realized he did not care. He would put it all on credit. If only relationships were like that--when they got too expensive you could simply put them on credit, delay payment, pay it later.

“This has been lovely,” Missy said. “I can't wait to tell my friends. So what do you think about Maine?” she asked.

“Sure, okay.” Thom heard himself say. It was almost as if it were someone else saying it for him. He did not know why he said it. He certainly did not mean it. He just said it. Missy smiled at him from across the table, “I can't wait to tell everyone,” she said.

Sucking spumoni, Thom realized that at least he had bought time. As long as they did not set a date, he could delay payment. He had no doubt that the payments would come with significant interest, but that was a compromise he could live with.