was lanky and wholesome, but the dark circles under his eyes spoke of long hours and work beyond his physical capacity. I realized that his left eyebrow was noticeably raised and had a much more pronounced curve, as if the world was under his constant scrutiny.
‘You keep looking at my eye,’ he said.
‘I don’t mean to, I’m sorry.’ I blushed and turned away. There was something slightly off about his face and his facial expression seemed to be in a constant state of disapproval.
‘Hypertropia,’ he said and wiggled his brows. ‘It’s a muscle imbalance, the visual axis of one eye is higher than the other. It’s hereditary. I wore glasses when I was younger but short of surgery one eye will always be slightly higher.’
We parted and I forgot about him until the very next day when he dropped by for a drink. He sat at the bar and watched me as I walked the floor.
‘You know what you should do?’ Jack asked that day.
‘What’s that?’ I held a stack of menus between us like a shield.
‘Check to see the progression of the tables instead of just marking the occupied tables at your station.’
‘And why would I do that?’
He looked at me puzzled. ‘To see if the tables are on dessert or if they’ve paid their checks. It expedites the operation.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ I said and laughed, trying not to focus on his eye again.
‘Would you go out on a date with me?’ Jack’s voice shook slightly, enough to be noticeable if you paid close attention.
‘We’re not allowed to go on dates with patrons,’ I lied and brushed invisible crumbs off my blouse. No one cared who we dated, the waitress and hostess turnaround was staggering. Looking back, was I playing hard to get? I guess deep down I didn’t want him to give up.
His eyes remained on my chest, and then he got up and downed his drink. ‘If I stop coming will you go out with me then?’
‘Don’t hold your breath,’ I said and smiled at him.
A month later, we went on our first date. I wore my best dress, black, sleeveless, while he wore khakis and a blue unbuttoned shirt. A movie and then dinner, during which we both had too much to drink. In my tipsy stupor I must have told him about my rent being late because he offered to pay for the next month.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let me do something for you.’
That line got to me. Any other night the comment wouldn’t have, I was used to getting by and had always been able to muddle through, but money was tight, I was struggling to keep up with my student loan payments, and I was stuck in a hostess position because all the waitress slots, popular due to the high tips, were filled.
That night, Jack’s shirt smelled of starch and I wondered how his lips would feel on mine. My mouth on his mouth. A taste of his lips, of what life could be if I let him do something for me. I had yet to increase my love for humankind in general and wondered at Delilah’s story setting me on this unexpected path.
Our second date, during which I expected reality to set in and expose how different we really were, Jack sealed the deal for me. On our way to the restaurant we walked down Lexington, and as the temperature dropped, he put his coat around my shoulders. The itchy wool and the smooth lining was every cliché of every romantic movie I had ever seen. The guy who put his coat around the girl’s shoulders is the good guy. Good guys give you their coat, bad guys take your clothes off.
After dinner I told him about my dating rules. ‘Thirty days. No making out, no sex.’ It was more or less a joke but Jack – unshakable, undeterred Jack – didn’t flinch.
‘I’ve got my own rule. It’s more like one hundred and eighty days, but okay. I accept,’ he said and added. ‘So, we’re officially on probation?’
‘Speaking of probation, whose side are you on?’ I asked while we passed the Met Life building. ‘Career wise,’ I added and moved my body closer to his as we walked hand in hand. ‘I’ve always wondered how lawyers figure out if they should become a defense lawyer or a prosecutor. Seems like two sides of the law to me.’
‘You just pick a side,’ he said and furrowed his brow as if my question made no sense at all.
When I asked him what he wanted to do years from now, he said ‘I like being a defense lawyer but I’m leaning more towards Assistant DA. From there, District DA, then judge.’
‘And then you’ll run for public office like mayor or something?’ I joked.
‘Mayor?’ He paused. ‘Probably not. I don’t do well with crowds and public speaking. Supreme Court maybe. They submit their rulings in writing. Seems like the perfect fit.’
I didn’t know what to make of his comment – his choice of career seemed odd to me – but maybe there was a difference between speaking in front of crowds and arguing a case in court. All in all his arrogance was harmless and refreshing.
‘Defenders probably see the good in everyone,’ I said. ‘Prosecutors expect everyone to be a criminal. Don’t you have to take a stand in your heart?’
‘My heart? That’s a very emotional way of looking at the world.’
‘Tell me about growing up,’ I said, wanting to change the subject.
Jack named his childhood experiences like a grocery list. ‘New Jersey, public schools, wrestling team, single mom.’ He paused slightly, then continued. ‘An only child, sort of. My mother was a state employee at the NY city library. We struggled, to say the least. My mother was a saint, she never even raised her voice at me.’
‘You were sort of an only child?’
Jack then told me how his father, Earl, had left his mother when he was still in diapers. Earl, a big rig driver who spent a majority of the year on the road, met another woman, a beauty salon owner named Elsa. He gave up his trucker job, something he had refused Jack’s mom for years, and started driving a city bus instead. He didn’t disappear from Jack’s life, no, he did something much worse.
‘I ran into my father in school, in front of the Principal’s office. I hadn’t seen him in years, couldn’t even remember the last time he spoke to me. For some odd reason that only a ten-year-old can comprehend, I felt he had come for me. Just when I was about to bury myself into his arms, I heard the Principal’s voice over the loudspeaker. George Connor, please come to the front office. That was the day I learned of my half-brother George. And that we lived close enough to go to school together. Five blocks to be exact.’
I didn’t know what to say. When I asked him about his mom, he let out a breath that sounded like a groan. ‘In a way, she killed herself,’ he said and I could tell it was an emotional subject for him. ‘She started working three jobs trying to send me to private school after the incident with my brother. She wasn’t feeling well for a long time and when she finally went to the doctor it was too late. She had ignored all the signs for too long and was diagnosed with colon cancer. She had surgery but they just stitched her back up, there was nothing they could do. Eventually the cancer spread to her brain and her liver.’
I
