Chapter 51: Table For Four

Friday, February 12, 1982

Angie and I both drove so that I could take Jasmine out. On the way home, Angie was going to put our applications in the mail to Indiana.

To no one’s surprise, Lexi joined Jasmine and me. To my surprise at least, so did Sheila. I just went with the flow. What, I was going to tell Jasmine she couldn’t invite a friend to dinner? It’d worked out pretty well the previous time.

Once we were all in the car, I looked to Jasmine. “Okay, where to. Pho King?” Lexi and Sheila both giggled.

Jasmine smiled. “Surprise us.”

Hrm. Let’s see. Three girls, two in dresses, one in a blouse and skirt. Me in a nice shirt and black jeans. That left a lot of options on the table. And I could afford to pay, and would, if it came to that. Nothing super-romantic, but something different.

Well, one cuisine I’d never gone out for with any date (or sort-of-date) thus far came to mind. This go-round, I mean. Ironically, the restaurant I chose was one that Dave Mayrink had first introduced me to the first time around, though it’s a Houston institution.

I aimed the car south towards Westheimer, which is a ‘main drag’ in Houston. One of several, in a city so big. Our church is along Westheimer and, much closer to downtown, so are most of the gay bars. Much farther out it still had some small farms, but I knew that was going to change.

The girls looked around with interest, chatting away. And, at least twice, smooching, in the case of Lexi and Sheila. I caught them in the rearview mirror — then caught Lexi’s wink.

“So, where are we going, boyfriend?”

“Not telling. You told me to surprise you.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I expect you might, anyway.”

“Yeah, true enough. I could make it worth your while right now, though. Ever have to deal with that sort of distracted driving?”

I had, but it was over a decade in the future, so... “Nope.”

She looked around. “Still too light out. Later.”

Before long, I turned into a parking lot. “What ... oh! Ninfa’s! I’ve never been here!” Jasmine said.

“I have,” Sheila said. “It’s good!”

“New to me,” Lexi said. “But I love Mexican.”

I parked, we headed in, and I requested a table for four. There wasn’t a wait, since it was early.

“Just so we’re clear, tonight’s Dutch,” Jasmine winked. “Tomorrow you can do the whole date thing.”

“So noted.”

“You were ready either way, weren’t you?” Sheila said.

I nodded. “Of course.”

Jasmine grinned. “So ... the reason I’ve invited you all here...” That got Lexi and Sheila both giggling. “ ... is that Sheila wanted to get to know you better. I told her she should talk to you before that.”

Sheila’s mouth fell open, but she was barely blushing, if at all. With Sheila’s fair complexion, if she was blushing, we’d all know it.

“That is not how it went!” Then she paused, and added, “Okay, it’s not totally unfair, either.”

Lexi grinned. “We just thought you wanted to live up to your name.”

That got Sheila blushing. Her last name was ‘Adcock’, after all. I was pretty sure a fair number of boys abused it; I guess Lexi was an equal opportunity offender. Sheila was still giggling, though. It was just that her freckles were more surrounded by red than white.

“Okay, so, no, that was ... damn, fine, that’s also not totally unfair. But still.” She looked at me. “I’ll just throw it out there. You have excellent reviews and I know you’re not off the market. And you won’t be bothered if Lexi and I decide to entertain each other, too. But, no, the plan was not to just have my way with you. The plan was to see if we liked each other besides just a few body parts.”

The waitress came over and asked if we were ready. We weren’t, so we got beverages ordered — tea for everyone — and tabled the dating conversation until we knew what we were eating ... food-wise, that is.

Ninfa’s specialty is tacos al carbon (that’s ‘car-bone’, if you don’t want to sound hopelessly confused if you visit) — literally, tacos filled with grilled meat and vegetables. Fajitas, by another name. Maybe a more authentic name. Ninfa’s claims — with considerable authority — to be the first restaurant in the US to serve them.

Improbably, I had never had them. Several other things both on and off the menu, yes. Their signature dish, no.

So, I ordered those. The girls mostly followed me, with Lexi opting for enchiladas instead. We gave our orders to the waitress and she headed off. I excused myself to run to the restroom, giving her an extra order along the way.

When I got back, Lexi said, “So, how’d you decide to come here, Steve?”

“I realized I’ve never taken a date to any sort of Mexican restaurant. Considering where we live, I might as well fix that now.”

Jasmine grinned. “That makes sense. It seems nice.”

“It’s not Pho King, but it has its charms.” The words might have run together even more than usual. Oops.

Sheila smiled. “No, it’s not, and yes, it does. So ... um ... how do we...?”

“Just talk. I’m not sure there’s any shortcut. If there’s something you want to know and it doesn’t violate a confidence, I’m happy to share.”

Lexi nodded. “That’s what I said. Just talk.”

“Okay ... um ... so, tell me more about yourself?”

I wasn’t sure where to go, but just talked about hobbies, what I was doing to get ready for the musical, what I was doing in Debate, stuff like that. Our food appeared midway through. I could tell it wasn’t getting to the topics Sheila wanted, but she wasn’t giving me any guidance.

Finally, she jumped in. “I’m ... well, that’s good, but...”

“I’ll turn it around. I don’t know you that well at all. How about you tell me more about yourself?”

That opened the floodgates. Her parents had divorced. Her father, ten years older than her mother, had remarried an obvious trophy wife well under half his age. Her mother, formerly a stay-at-home mom, had opened a now-thriving alteration shop and doubled as a wedding planner, but that kept her very busy and away from home. Along with that, it sounded like she suspected her mother of numerous flings, several with grooms-to-be. She detested her older sister, both for her taste in boys and her drug use, and couldn’t stand her younger brother, who was also getting into drugs.

Reading between the lines, she didn’t want to be her sister, she didn’t want to be her stepmother, and she didn’t want to be her mom either — though she loved her mom. She’d picked up her mom’s flair for the artistic, though, and she’d implied that she’d also inherited her mom’s — and sister’s — sex drive.

Her own dating adventures (just dating, so far — I couldn’t infer that dating meant sex) covered every other sophomore Drama kid and all but two of the juniors — Charles and Marshall weren’t interested in girls. It felt like most of the dates involving guys hadn’t been great. Girls, better, but still, she at least felt like she had an iffy track record at best and probably a lousy one.

And yes, the strong indication I kept getting, and that Sheila was reinforcing, was that every female Drama student, at least the sophomores and juniors, was bi, or at least bi enough to date girls. Sex? Who knew? I guessed there must be at least a least a bit of peer pressure; it seemed a bit unlikely, statistically at least.

In any case, what Sheila really wanted — if she wanted a guy at all - I wasn’t sure she did — was a quality boyfriend. Someone who’d be with her for months, at least, and not drop her like a hot potato the second some other girl he liked better came along. Someone who’d dote on her a bit and not just fuck her; someone who’d take her on normal dates. And, most definitely, someone who wouldn’t brag. I couldn’t be all of that, but neither would any of the guys she was meeting. And I could certainly be Mr. Right Now.

I nibbled on my tacos — they were excellent — and listened. Lexi and Jasmine were both staring a bit. I wondered if any of this was news to them or if it was simply that she was putting so much out there so fast. Finally, Sheila ran down a bit. And then realized what she said, starting to blush.

“I ... um ... sorry for ... um ... dumping all that on you like that.”

Jasmine leaned over and hugged her. “I guess you wanted to get it off your chest?” Lexi hugged from the other side.

“Um ... yeah. Well, I guess you think I’m...”

“Stop,” I said. “I don’t think you’re whatever-it-is that you were going to say. I think what you need is a friend. What you want is something else, maybe, but that’s secondary to what you need, and what you need is a guy who’ll be a friend and not just treat you like a ... well, I’m going to use a word that I would never say, because I think it’s a nasty word that has no business being applied to 99% of the people it’s applied to, but...”

“Slut. Right? Slut. That’s the word. Not the word I was going to say before, that was ‘pathetic’. But where you were going was slut.”

“I was going there only to say no one should treat you like you’re a slut. For a lot of reasons.”

She sighed. “I don’t even get why I think that. I don’t know...”

“Look, Sheila. First ... I think we need to back up. I need to say some things, but you’re not going to hear them the way I mean them. And I’m not sure how to fix that, except to say up front: just listen and then talk. I’m not rejecting you at all. Okay?”

“I ... okay. I can do that.”