Chapter 10
"After lunch, we strolled along the pier some more. We looked at the mini vendor shops – didn't buy anything. Sometimes you find that couples are buying things for each other while they're together in lieu of other things to do, or things to talk about. But this was not the case at all for Sara and me.
"In fact, the only thing I bought her was a few smiles and laughs. My efforts well spent. Instant gratification. I could do this for a living.
"Soon night was upon us. We strolled away from the pier, hopped on a trolley, and soon found ourselves in the middle of the swarm of city lights. We rode the trolley into inner downtown. It felt so exhilarating, first letting my arm hang out of the streetcar as we rode up and down the hills. I'd look over my shoulder and see Sara smiling widely. She'd first shake her head at me, then grab onto a pole with both of her hands and slyly let her body swing outside of the trolley. The breeze would take her hair and jacket and play with them. One of the two men working the trolley was just catching on to her, I think, about to call her out on being reckless. That's when I reached my arm out to direct her back in, and she just fell nicely into my arms.
"'This is where we stop, anyway.'
"My heart couldn't help but sink slightly when she said that. I knew she wasn't talking about us. No, she was talking about our ride on the streetcar. But, I mean, what if she was talking about us, too? What if she subtly was referring to our friendship staying at most with hugs? What if she didn't want me taking it any further with her? I couldn't help but feel at least a little bit confused, because I felt like holding her – at that exact moment – and the vibe I was getting from her about it all was just so contradictory to the words coming out of her mouth.
"I could only swallow my spit and reluctantly let her slip out of my arms to get off the trolley. After I stepped down from the trolley, I surveyed my surroundings. Lights. Brightly lit lights of every color imaginable, in the most tasteful senses possible, surrounded me. High-end stores opened their doors for me, trying to lure me in. Each window Sara and I passed screamed of high fashion and a somewhat classier sex.
"Don't ask me how that is possible. You know sex sells in advertisements – but the way everything was displayed was not as upfront as your usual storefront. It could have been the nature of the clothing that was being sold – I could see it being hard to sell a pantsuit for women had it not been for the way it's displayed in (not saying that it's displayed in a trashy way – not at all; these ads were in to subtleties).
"But in any case. I knew Sara's interest was not in the material things. She took me by the arm and led me through the crowd of people. She led me past the stores. Past the classy-sex-calling lights, until we were met with a different plethora of lights. Lights that, instead of enticing sexual urges, enticed my stomach…"
"They do say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."
"That's if you think love and sex are the same thing."
"Do you not?"
"I think sex should be had with someone you love."
"So you do think as the saying goes."
"I, ah, well… I feel like that saying implies that anyone with good food can get you to fall in love with them. As opposed to using food as foreplay, you know?"
"I suppose. What happened next?"
"Right. So, she took me to the place I had first eaten when I got to the city. It was also the place where I first saw her. Or thought I saw her. Then there was that long chase… anyway. You already know about that. The place has a different atmosphere at night. It's funny how you can be in one place at two different times in the day, and just the change in lighting can make it more foreboding, more welcoming, more exotic, what have you…"
"So how'd it look now?"
"Now it looked… well. I liked how it looked, for starters. It was fun! I mean, it's a diner. It just screams of retro-flashiness."
"But did it not scream of 'retro-flashiness' when you were there the week before?"
"… no. It did."
"So then how did it feel different?"
"… it was more welcoming."
"And do you associate that with the fact that you've been there before? Or because Sara was there?"
"… probably because Sara was there. After we got a seat she immediately scrolled through the mini jukebox at the table and selected a song. I don't remember what it was, because it never got to play. She told me that the jukeboxes are so old that they don't always work. But instead of replacing them, the diner keeps them there. It gives them an element of surprise, a pleasant surprise, when they actually do work. And that's only if you get lucky."
"And you guys didn't get lucky that night?"
"Well, I know I didn't get lucky."
"Go on…"
"We sat and talked. Things were going great. We must have spent at least two hours there, finishing up our burger, shake, and fries. The strings of conversation we had were seamless… heh. You know, the sort of conversations you hear people having with their significant other. Or the person-to-be their significant other. The conversations are just perfect. Tangent upon tangent. Unrelenting interest. Awkward moments are even played off beautifully as jokes, or as segue ways into future tangents. That is, until I brought up Las Vegas…"
"Go back to Las Vegas?" she looked at me with a sudden severity. I felt my jaw drop in stupidity for a moment. But instead of just dropping the subject, or acting as though she misheard me, I continued the conversation as casually as possible.
"Yeah. I mean, how long are you planning to stay on leave for?"
"I don't know, Greg," she smiled at me. Only this time, I didn't find what was necessary to smile back. The smile wasn't genuine. So I gave a half-assed smile back, to try and lighten the mood anyway.
"You know…" I picked up a French fry and dipped it into my strawberry shake. I've been told that these two taste good together like this, "… everyone back at the lab misses you."
"I know, Greg…" she took in a deep breath and shifted her gaze for a moment, "I miss the lab, too." Her eyes followed my fingers as they swirled the fry in the thick liquid, then proceed to bring the fry to my mouth, "Ooh, you did not just do that."
"But I did just do that."
"That's gross."
"I've heard good things."
"Verdict?"
"Fry is a bit soggy," I swallowed and smiled at her, "Think I'll stick to eating them separately, but still consumed together."
"Haha, sounds like a good idea…"
"And an awkward silence fit itself in between us that wasn't turned into a joke. The next words uttered were to the waiter for the bill, which we split and fiddled over how much to give as tip. Then we proceeded out the door.
"Even though it was quite late out, Sara still wanted to walk back home. I felt empowered a bit, and flattered, that she didn't want to take a shorter, potentially safer way home. That she felt comfortable enough with me to take the time to get back home. That she felt safe enough with me to not think anything could harm her. But, Sara's a strong girl. Always has been. She could take care of herself. But I guess after that experience with the serial killer, you really don't know.
"After a comment or two about the surroundings, random observations, and the like, our string of conversations soon became streamed again. And by the time I got her to her stoop, she was grinning.
"'Thank you for your time today, Greg,' she told me.
"'My pleasure, Sara.'
" 'What're your plans for the rest of your stay? How long are you staying for anyway?'
" 'Oh, you know. I'm not entirely sure yet.'
"She looked at me as though she didn't believe me. I gave her a boyish smile, and a shrug. She smiled softly back, her near-nonexistant bangs blew in front of her face. She turned to go up her stoop to her doorstep. And as she fiddled with her keys, I spat out what was probably the most – just the dumbest thing I could have said at that moment. Even given the conversation we had earlier.
"'Come back to Las Vegas with me.'"