We decided to meet in San Francisco. It was close to where we both lived. Closer to her actually, but that didn't bother me.
The restaurant she choose was a busy one. It was near the hotel and chosen at random. It didn't feel random though. The restaurant seemed calculated, like a stage or a movie set. All the people there could have easily been extras.
I arrived first, and was rather shocked at the frantic atmosphere. The noise wasn't really unpleasant though, it gave me a sense of anonymity at least. It was easy to feel obscure among the rattle of conversations nearby. After today, I would no longer be an anonymous voice on the phone, or a picture in an email. After today my obscurity would be shattered.
I took a table near the back and waited. I began having doubts about the prudence of our meeting. She was already 10 minutes late, and I was sure she had decided to stand me up. I had just stood up to leave when I saw a waiter walking her toward my table. Her nervous half-smile immediately drowned out all the conversations going on around me; it quieted all my misgivings.
We sat facing one another, with neither of us speaking. The small talk portion of my brain had shut down completely, I was drowning. She just continued staring directly at me, impervious to the silence. It almost seemed as if she were enjoying my discomfort. But she soon relieved the tension. She reached across the small table, rested her hand on my arm, and told me to relax.
"Timothy, breathe," she said.
"Yes, of course," I stammered. "I had just for a minute there forgot myself. Well, not who I am, I mean. I just couldn't remember what it was I was talking about, you know?"
She laughed at this, "Oh? Funny, I didn't realize you were talking about anything at all. What, with the fact that you have been completely silent since I sat down and all!" Her ironic smile was charming in despite of her teasing remarks., or maybe because of them. She was glowing with mischief.
By the time the drinks arrived I had loosened up some. We began talking more freely, about every small thing we could think of. We talked about books, about music, about the cathedral down the street that we both felt conveyed a sense of secrecy. That's what our conversation seemed to contain, a sense of secrecy. It didn't feel like we were concealing anything, really. It just felt like an outside observer couldn't possibly have any clue what we were talking about, like we were speaking another language. We felt removed from the other people in the room.
"Are you ready to leave?" She asked, already leaning toward the exit.
"Well, okay." I hesitated, not wanting to reenter the world so quickly. I had the strangest thought, just then, that I would never be able to recapture this moment again. I felt as if I would never again hold her attention in the same manner.
"Good, where to next?" Her tone was still playful, but it had changed. Her arched eye-brow indicated a carnality that wasn't there before.
As we were walking away from the restaurant, toward the hotel, her hips were swaying slightly. Her arm was locked around mine, and for the first time she had stopped looking at me. Neither of us had used the word sex, afraid this moment would turn vulgar maybe. But the word was there, in her walk, in flushed faced, in her sudden inability to meet my gaze. She was being careful, not realizing that she was incapable of vulgarity; that it simply wasn't in her nature.
"Here we are!" It was the stupidest thing I could have said at the moment, but it was what I could think of. "I mean in the room, you know? I just...why don't we sit down?" I continued, after an uncomfortable pause.
"I don't want to have sex with you!" Her hurried tone startled me.
"Okay." I said, "should we sit down anyway?"
