Whatever Will Be
By Eileen Blazer
May 2008
So he isn't perfect. She's getting to a place where she realizes that most men aren't. Sure, there are the Henrys of the World: perfect for someone, because they're so sweet and gentle and kind. And there are the (slightly fewer in number but still significant enough to mention) Daniels, the ones who are appear perfect until you dig an inch or so beneath the surface and realize there's a whole lot of crazy that's not entirely damning but definitely un-perfecting.
So he isn't perfect.
Most men aren't.
His imperfections are obvious. He's nosy. And loud, at games. He's one of those guys who throws French fries at the infield when his team isn't winning, and sings along to the national anthem, even the notes that are way out of his range. And after, he takes her to a bar – a real one, the kind with burly truckers playing pool and a bartender who isn't a size zero – and he orders for her, even after she's told him twice that she doesn't really drink. He hands her a sloshy, frothy beer and insists: its tradition. A second hesitation earns her a shrug and an admission: yes, yes, he is trying to get her drunk so he can take advantage of her, and can't she just go along with the plan?
When he drops her off at home, he isn't a poet; he doesn't even try. He tells her he had a nice time, and they should try it again because practice makes perfect and he's always wanted to go on a perfect date. Oh yeah, and it'd be nice to see her, too. They don't have that sweet moment of hesitation when both of them linger close and try to muster up the courage to kiss – before she's even realized it, he's placed his hands on either side of her face and pressed their lips together. He lets her go with a wink and then she's alone on her porch, his jacket still wrapped around her for warmth.
He never promises her forever, and he's the first. Walter always insisted they were soul mates, eternally bound to each other. Henry said he'd love nothing else than to spend his life with her. But they've both moved on, and she has too; with him she is happy to have the now.
Que sera, sera.
Gio isn't perfect, but he's funny and kind and surprising. That, she finds, is enough.