[August 2020]
I looked at my calendar. "Head to Dave's -- 6 pm."
I readied myself and headed over. Dave was a coworker and we'd occasionally hang out together and watch the game (before coronavirus cancelled all live sports). We'd both been tested and found negative. In fact, all the cases in our county had fully recovered. Everyone was of course still paranoid about it, but there was a slight lessening of stress. Especially since the county had banned all travel in and out, so no one could come in from outside with it and no one could leave and get infected on the outside either. The only exception was trucks carrying food, but the truckers had to remain inside the cab at all times -- the store workers would unload the food. (We had a refinery inside the county that produced gasoline.)
I pulled up outside Dave's and rang the doorbell.
"Hi, Lenny. Come on in."
I stepped inside and Dave directed me towards the living room.
"This is why I invited you over. I wanted you to meet my sister, Hana."
Dave introduced us and informed me that Hana had also tested negative for coronavirus. I therefore did not in the least object to sitting next to her on the couch.
"And why did you want me specifically to meet her?"
"I'm playing matchmaker. Hana has been unable to get a date for ten years."
"Really?"
Hana lifted the bottom of her T-shirt up, revealing several large scars on her ribs and stomach.
"This is why. There are also some on my back. My ex turned abusive when he got hooked on drugs 25 years ago, and stabbed me multiple times."
She dropped her T-shirt back down. Hana must then be Dave's older sister, because 25 years ago Dave and I were sophomores in high school. He also had a younger one he'd mentioned, but this was the first I'd heard of older sis Hana.
"Very sorry you had to go through that," I informed Hana. "I hope your ex got what he deserved."
"He OD'd five years after getting hooked. Good riddance to bad rubbish."
"Anyway, I don't see a few scars as a reason not to date you. Of course, we have to take things slow to determine whether we like each other. But on first impression, you seem nice."
"So do you, Lenny."
I chatted with Hana for a bit. She was a stocker at a local store. I was retired, having made my pile at Google before deciding to head back to my hometown for small town living.
She had been in the hospital six times when she was married to her ex. One time he missed severing her spinal cord by half an inch. I didn't want to victim-blame, since there was probably a good reason she stayed with him, but I also thought that if someone had nearly paralyzed me I'd have gotten the hell out of Dodge.
Hana seemed to read my mind. "When he wasn't under the influence, he was the kindest, most caring, most loving person imaginable. That's why I fell for him to begin with. And I thought I could convince him to stay clean. But addiction is a powerful thing."
I thought that discretion was the better part of valor, so I quickly changed the subject. Hana's favorite food was a meat pie with eggs in it that her grandmother had made for her when she was a child. She didn't have the recipe, unfortunately, and the knowledge of it had passed with her grandmother. I promised to look up a recipe that was generally thought to be good and see if I could come up with something that would satisfy Hana's taste buds.
"Offering to cook for me already and we haven't even been on a date yet? My feminine charms must have completely overwhelmed you."
I let Hana know that I had needed to develop good cooking skills, since I was the only one in the house. "Necessity is the mother of invention." I'd been single for 15 years, focusing first on my career and then on getting settled back into my old hometown.
We agreed that Hana would come over to my house the next Friday night, and I would have ready for her the meat pie.
Friday arrived, and I prepared the pie according to the recipe. I used my good plates (the ones that weren't chipped) when setting the table, brought out my late mom's crystal pitcher to hold the iced Martinelli's, and had two champagne glasses on the table. I even used actual napkins instead of paper towels and put the silverware out that hadn't been dented by falling into the disposal while it was running. After all, I didn't want to make a bad impression on Hana.
I actually showered and put on clean clothes for the occasion, too. And I used a T-shirt that didn't have holes in it. For me, that was dressing up.
Hana was wearing what appeared to be a light sundress when she arrived. I wasn't surprised: August is a hot month.
"You look lovely, Hana."
"Thank you, Lenny. Something smells good in here."
"I hope it tastes good, too."
I cut two slices of the meat pie to go with the salad already on the plates, and poured the sparkling cider into the glasses. Hana gave me a charming smile, then dug into her food.
After a couple of quiet minutes while we stuffed our faces, she spoke. "This isn't quite as good as Gran's, but it's quite tasty. I approve."
"I'm very happy to hear that."
"The salad is nice, too."
"Flattery will get you everywhere."
"It's not flattery if it's true. And, um, about that... I made a promise when I was young to never have sex on the first date."
"And you've kept it all your life."
"Yes. So, after we finish up, I'll go walk around the block while you put the dishes away. That way when I return it will officially count as our second date."
"I see."
