It was mid-Saturday morning in late spring, and I was meeting my dad for breakfast at Tackles, his favorite sports bar. It was his Saturday tradition, and he loved that they opened early on the weekend. The bar was old and cozy and filled with sports artifacts, tchotchkes, and old memorabilia. Playing football for the home team, my dad was a permanent fixture on the walls and in person. The bar fit in with the rest of the historic district of the college town that we lived in.
We sat at our regular table and ordered our regular breakfast. My dad had his usual brunch Bloody Mary. Our conversation always revolved around the local team, his conservative politics, town gossip, and the state of the university. There were the occasional interruptions from visiting parents, "Excuse me, Flash Morgan?" they would ask. Dad always treated his fans with respect. "Call me James," he would say. And he would suggest a selfie in front of the championship trophy that he helped win as a running back.
With our meals finished and the conversation waning, the morning always ended with, "So, how is working in finance going?" and "Are you seeing anyone?" However, this time he added a little more.
"You know, there is this girl here that works evenings. She's in grad school during the day. She's nice. I think you would like her!" he said.
"Oh Dad no!" I exclaimed.
"c'mon" he quipped, "she's available tonight. She told me it's hard to meet guys with the schedule she keeps. You know how that goes!"
I sighed.
"I think you have a lot in common. You can take her to that brewery where you hang out. I already told her you would be delighted and gave her your number! Don't let me down on this." He said with his "I always get my way" grin.
"OK," I said reluctantly. "Have her shoot me a text."
We said our goodbyes and I was leaving the bar to go about my day when a text came through.
"Hi, my name is Sarah. Your dad was insistent that I get a hold of you, and we could meet somewhere," it said. "He's a real arm twister, lol."
"He is that!" I replied. "How about Midwest Brewery at 7:00?"
"Yes, that is good," she texted back.
My phone dinged once more and there was a nice face pic. "So you will recognize me," said the following text.
I shot back, "See you then."
"Huh, not bad looking," I thought as I went about the rest of my day.
I headed to the Midwest Brewery around 6:45 where a nice crowd was starting to gather. I took a seat a few feet away from the front door where I could see people arriving. It was almost 7:00 sharp when I saw Sarah walk in. I recognized her from the picture she sent me, but some modifications were definitely made to the one she sent.
Her shoulder-length hair was light brown and held with a clip to the side. You could tell she took good care of it. She wore make-up, but it was applied very lightly giving her a natural continence, but the face I was looking at was plump! She had high pudgy cheeks, and her neck created a small double chin.
She was dressed in a simple but attractive colorful short-sleeved top and jeans, but she was fat! Her shoulders were broad, and her flabby biceps stretched the fabric of her sleeves. Her breasts set high and were a medium size which differed from a lot of bigger girls I had seen, but her belly was big. It protruded outward and sank into her tight-fitting jeans where it hung like a pouch under the waistline. The jeans accentuated her thick thighs and calves. I tried to keep my shock from being evident.
"Jim," she called out and waved in recognition. "Well, you can definitely tell you are your father's child," she laughed.
"Hi. It's a pleasure to meet you," I said being polite. I figured that there was no way out of this. She wasn't the type of girl that I would walk across the bar to meet, but I was going to make the best of it. It was just for a beer and some food.
We headed to the taps to pick our selection of beers. I settled on an IPA and she asked for an amber lager. "Not a bad choice," I thought. The food truck for the evening was selling tacos and we each picked a choice of two with some chips and guac to go with them.
'This is a great place you selected," she said. "I have been wanting to try it out all year."
Conversation came easy as we drank our beers and ate tacos. I could see why my dad liked her. She was knowledgeable about our town, the university, and she was a big football fan. She had good taste in music and rocked with the live music playing. She was not a shy wall flower.
Sarah made it a point to ask questions of me to help spur the conversation. It was surprisingly enjoyable. Time passed as we enjoyed a few rounds. We both agreed when it was time to stop though, not crossing the line between a good beer buzz and getting drunk.
"It's too bad they do not sell desserts," I said off the cuff.
"I have some Ben n Jerry's in my fridge!" she exclaimed. "I'm not far. We can walk over!"
I stepped in that one. I really did not know what to say. After all, dessert was my idea. A simple OK was all I could muster.
Sarah had an off-campus apartment that was part of the town's historic district near the university. It was small but well organized and tidy, which was not a surprise seeing that despite her weight, she took care of herself.
She went to the refrigerator for the ice cream while I perused the room. There was a table behind the couch set up with a few coffee table books that I flipped through while she prepared the scoops.
Walking over with the bowls, Sarah said, "Oh, there is one that you have to see!"
She pulled out a picture book that was about the history of our town and rapidly turned the pages stopping about two thirds through.
"See that building from 1920?" she said excitedly. "Recognize it?"
