Between Us, A Girl (Part 1 of 4)

She’s younger than you led me to believe.

Kristy arrives at the restaurant in the kind of exuberant rush that only comes from one’s twenties. Her face is a little flushed and she is having trouble deciding whether to put her extra large bag down before shaking our hands, or to shake our hands first, or perhaps even give us a hug and a kiss with the bag a less welcome fourth party. As you and I get up, she turns and the black leather bag strikes me firmly in the thigh. “Oops! Shit. Are you OK?” After a laughing apology, she puts the bag down, shakes my hand, and gives you a hug. She then plops down on the seat as if all the wind she has saved up for this occasion has been spent.

“What are we drinking?” she asks, patting you on the hand as the two of you scoot into the booth next to one another.

“Chardonnay,” I answer, sitting back down. The server brings over another wine glass, fills it, and is gone before any of us notice that we aren’t talking.

Silence. Awkward silence.

“Look! I brought a toothbrush!” Kristy says suddenly , pulling a red toothbrush from her bag. We all laugh, breaking the spell. Maybe now I can relax.

You raise your wine glass and propose a toast. “Here’s to new friends and new experiences!”

“And to things that go bump in the night!” adds Kristy, smiling.

Not to be outdone, I counter, “And to things that come in threes!”

“Threes? You mean like triplets?”

Everyone smiles and we drink. But then…

“Shortcakes. Or is that six?”

“Wise men.”

“Pawnbrokers’ balls!”

Over our salads, Kristy launches into a lengthy description of her position on Internet censorship, which touches on everything from her email habits to Renoir nudes on the Louvre web site to nude modeling for college art classes when she was still in school to playing with the libidos of the people in the class by walking over to them fully naked between poses and commenting on their work… and finally back to meeting you on the Net. She talks for what must be 15 minutes without stopping, moving from one topic to the next with an ease and rapidity that makes it all seem to make sense at the time. I look over at you and we both open our eyes wide as if to say, “Wow.” We smile and you reach across the table to hold my hand.

And so the dinner goes. We talk, laugh, drink more wine. We are sitting in one of those semi-circular booths where the seat wraps around the table. I am sitting on one end; you’re sitting on the other end; and Kristy is sitting back behind the table and between the two of us. There are plants and mirrors along the wall. There is just enough light for me to be able to tell that the tablecloth on our table is mint green.

For much of dinner, I feel as if I’ve split into two people. There’s the me that’s continuing to participate in the conversations we’re having — the current one that you started having something to do with movies. But then there’s this other me that’s watching, studying all three of us from some place away from the table. Some part of me is looking at all of us as actors in a play and it’s an odd feeling. What would that other me say about the two of you? I know you bought this deep blue dress especially for tonight. You wouldn’t let me see it until tonight. When I saw you in the restaurant lobby before dinner, it stopped me in my tracks. The dress isn’t overly dressy, but it shows off your legs and your beautiful shoulders. And the color is so nice with your auburn hair. What earrings are you wearing? The red glass ones from last summer’s arts festival. Poor man’s rubies.

And then there’s Kristy. She arrived wearing a short cotton slip dress, white with small flowers, and a denim jacket. On her feet are white socks and a pair of clunky black shoes. Her hair is short and dark. In this light, I can’t tell what color her eyes are. Her earrings are silver, with one extra loop passing through an extra hole in one ear. But she’s not such a rebel that she doesn’t shave her legs and pits. She’s not as curvy as you, but she’s definitely not boyish either. Before she sat down, I could tell she had nice round hips and in silhouette her breasts seem full and large for her frame. The two of you make an interesting pair.

“Can I have a bite of that?” Kristy asks you during the main course. “I love trout almondine.” But really, I think to myself, what she wants to do is play with your space. She scoots over next to you as you get a piece of fish and some sauce onto your fork. You don’t have to reach the fork out to her, as Kristy leans across the left side of your body toward the fork in your right hand. This move puts her head inches from your face— her hair close enough to smell, her cheek close to your lips— and her upper right arm just brushing your left breast. I take a sip of wine and study your face. Kristy looks up to see that I am watching her and winks.

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