Darko slipped into the booth in a dinner with checkered tiling and a flickering neon sign that read, open. The 'E' was out completely. He was alone and his coffee was growing cold. Which made him bitter as he associated the sensation with the woman who had likely just stood him up. He gave his varsity jacket a flap before beckoning the waitress over, he was set on calling it a night and asking for the bill. The waitress lazily and slowly tended to the only other people in the diner and seemed to have no intention of speeding her pace for him. He supposed in hindsight that, that was lucky for him. If she'd pounced at his request right after he'd made it, he would have missed the noisy roar of an approaching Ferrari Mondial. A sound he had become quite acquitted with. Darko, after all, was the one who had helped Icy removed the muffler from her vehicle in the first place. If the woman wanted to make a scene, he would help her do it. He watched as the black Ferrari slid into one of the empty spots. About a minute or so later the driver emerged dressed in leather and buckles. A bunch of black crosses swung from her neck beneath a studded collar. He wondered how she was driving with her shades on at night. Come to think of it, he'd never seen her without the shades. She claimed to have some sort of light sensitivity, but he assumed that she was just trying to be edgy. He watched her take her long strides until she was at the door and then turned his attention back to the interior before she could catch him looking. One of the red florescent neon lights in the dinner flickered.
He heard her coming before he turned to face her. The ice witch had her own unique sound; high heels and the faint sound of whatever she was playing on her Walkman. On that night it was Siouxsie and the Banshees' Sweetest Chill—an unsurprising song choice. He had a preference for synth Yazoo, Frankie Goes To Hollywood, and the like. Bowie was also a favorite, but he didn't mind Bauhaus every now and again.
"You wanted to talk, so talk." Icy said as she dropped herself into the booth.
The truth is Darko didn't know what to say, not when she was right in front of him, pondering over the menu. The waitress finally decided to come back around, he had half the mind to ask her if she'd forgotten about him, but he kept his mouth shut. "A coffee." Icy requested simply.
"Anything else?"
"No."
"And you?" The woman eyed Darko.
"A refill on the fries." He replied.
Icy drummed her fingers on the counter. Long and painted black. She had the overall look of the musicians she listened to, with her own wintery flare. "I said talk." She was never an easy person to converse with, that was for sure. For that reason, he had no clue how to tell her that he wanted to try to make discussion with her for the rest of his life.
She tugged at her high side ponytail, he could tell that she was growing disinterested very quickly. She had a very clear preference for their late-night cruises with the roof retracted. The ones where he slid into the passenger's seat of her Ferrari, turn on New Order's Bizarre Love Triangle, and watch the street lights whiz by. There was always a notable lack of care. He would take a drag from his cigarette and dangle his arm out of the window.
"I have something to give you." He finally managed.
"If it isn't a set of good concert tickets, it can't be that important." Icy shrugged.
"It's better than that."
Icy quirked an eyebrow. "I'm listening."
"The past few years have been bitchin'." He declared. "The best I've had, actually. I'd like to go to more concerts with you."
"You dragged me all the way over here to tell me that?"
"I dragged you all the way over here to ask you to marry me." Darko let the words fall before he lost his nerve. She struck the pause button on her Walkman and asked him to repeat himself. He did, this time adding, "I figured we could get a place together. Make sure these nights never end."
She sipped her coffee, considering his proposal. "I suppose we could make that work." She looked around the dinner. "Still don't know why I had to drive all the way over here for you to tell me that."
"I guess it's because. Remember our middle school dance…back in '81. They held it here."
"It was actually back in 1980." Icy corrected.
"Was it?" He asked. "That doesn't matter. What matters is, they were playing Call Me. I was having a pretty bad time Monice decided to spill her punch on my new tux and storm out. One minute we were having a nice chat about extracurriculars the next minute she was saying 'like barf me out' and throwing beverages. I don't know what happened. But anyways, I decided I would do the same and bumped into you. You called me a jackass…"
"You still are a jackass." She interrupted.
"That's why I brought you here."
"Because you're a jackass?"
"No! No, it's because this is where I first met you."
Icy rolled her eyes. "Gag me. That is probably the sappiest thing anyone has said to me since 1980."
"It's the truth though."
She took the ring and examined it in her hand—an elegant band of silver fixed with two small white diamonds and one large black diamond. "I guess this makes up for the fluffy bullshit." She slipped it onto her finger. It looked so right there and he hoped with everything he had, that she would keep it there. "A little plain, but it'll work."
No, she wasn't an easy woman to love at all, but he would make the pieces fit.