Chapter 2: What's Her Face and Monotone Mike
This ought to be fun. Donna's giving me looks that could kill, but that's nothing new, so I'm just gonna ignore them. You can't tell meshe really wants to have dinner alone with Monotone Mike over here. I'm doing her a favor. She should be thanking me.
And I admit, this serves several purposes for me as well. First of all, I've been given the chance to see Donna in date mode. This is something I've dreamt about an infinite number of times. Granted, I've always dreamtI was that date, but that's another subject altogether.
Second, I'm going to witness the gomer of the night attempt to understand this amazing creatureno man will ever understand. Even I don't understand her, and I've been studying her for years. I freely admit that Donnatella Moss is the most complex and difficult subject I've ever studied. She's also the subject I long to know more than any other. Watching Monotone Mike try to "get" her is going to be entertaining.
Third, I've got the opportunity here to be the man he can't be while he's trying to be him. Does that make sense? Let me explain. Go back to number two. This man can't understand her, we've already determined that. I can't understand her either, the last several years have proven that. However, I'll come closer than him. I know intricacies about her that he won't know. For instance, she hates it when a man orders her meal for her. She's grossed out by the thought of frog legs, lamb, rabbit, and other unconventional meats. She's put off when someone drinks too much, unless the point is to go out and get drunk. She exhibits utter patience with waiters and waitresses. For her to ask for the manager, the waiter would have to, I don't know, light her table on fire and punch her in the nose.
Fourth, and this is a big one, I do not want to eat alone with this wench of a date I'm with. She's a nightmare. She's like Amy and Mandy combined. Within five minutes of meeting for dinner, she'd made a comment about my tie. When we got here, she complained because the hostess didn't recognize me and seat us immediately. Then just a few minutes ago she commented about Donna being my secretary. What the hell? Plus, she saidprofessional baseball is little league for men who never grew up. What is it with women who think treating men badly is a turn-on? What is it with me continuing to date such women?
So, back to the story. The hostess, God love her, suggestswe eat together. Monotone Mike thinks it's a great idea; obviously he's never been in love with a co-worker. Donna protests, what's her face looks on in disinterest, and I agree that eating together would be a fine idea. I gesture for what's her face and then Donna to go ahead of me, and we walk to towards a table in the back near the fireplace.
"Josh," Donna whispers. "Don't."
"Don't what?" I whisper back. I'm smirking, maybe that's what she's telling me not to do.
"We're both on dates; you can't do that."
"Do what?" What is she talking about?
"That," she whispers, reaching around her back and yanking my hand off of her.
"I was just…"
"I know, but…" she nods towards what's her face and Monotone Mike.
"Fine." Just because I'm on a date, I'm not allowed to touch Donna, how is that fair? I can't help it. That's what I do. My hand gravitates towards her lower back. It's our thing. And don't fool yourself; she likes it as much as I do. I feel the shiver that goes up her spine; I feel her lean back into my touch just a little bit; I know she waits to walk until we're set in hand-on-lower-back position.
We get to the table and I hold the chair next to me out for her. Unfortunately, so does Monotone Mike, and that's the chair she chooses. It's just for show, of course; fifty bucks says if I put my hand on top of hers on the table right now and ran my thumbs over her knuckles, we'd be having sex in a cab before what's her face and Monotone Mike even knew we were gone.
So here we sit; Donna next to Monotone Mike and across from me, me next to what's her face, who's across from Monotone Mike. Let the games begin.
We're sitting for all of about thirty seconds when Donna excuses herself to use the restroom. The waiter comes up and takes our drink orders while she's gone and Monotone Mike orders a Heineken. Watch it there buddy. What's her face orders another gin and tonic; hopefully it'll improve her mood. Then the waiter turns to me. Here I go. "I'll have a club soda. She'd like a water, no lemon, no ice," I say, pointing to Donna's chair. Lyman one, math guy zero.
"No lemon, no ice? Is that her way of being classy?" I bet you know who asked that.
"She likes her water tepid. She's…"
"Eccentric?" asks Monotone Mike with a smile.
"Quirky," I reply.
"You two know each other pretty well. You must spend a lot of time together."
I shrug. "Twelve, fourteen hours a day." He laughs like I'm kidding, but I just look at him.
"Oh. Really?"
"It's a busy job."
"Do you really need her there all that time?" what's her face asks.
"I can't do my job without her doing hers. We're a team." And you're a bitch.
The waiter comes back a minute later with our drinks, and right after that, Donna comes back from the restroom. She's reapplied her lip-gloss. She notices her water and gives me a small smile.
"Josh was just telling usyou have an insane work schedule," Monotone Mike says once she's sitting down. He didn't stand and hold her chair for her, by the way.
She smiles at him. "We only have eight years to make a difference. It comes first for now." It tugs at my heart a little when she says that. She and I sacrifice on a whole different level than those we work with.
"I understand," he says, casually putting his arm on the back of her chair. I know this move, in five minutes it'll move to her shoulder. Bastard. "I feel like that with my students. I only get them for nine months, then I send them off and hope I've made an impact." Damn it. Monotone Mike scores.
"Is this guy ever going to take our order?" what's her face asks.
"I'm sure he'll be back in a few minutes. They're very busy," Donna defends the guy. I could be wrong, but judging by the look she's giving her, I don't think Donna cares for what's her face.
"So, Mike, where do you teach?" I ask.
"Brown Academy, in Alexandria."
"A private school?" I ask, taking a drink of my club soda.
"Yes." Oh, so he's poor. Good to know.
"I've always thought of inner-city teachers as heroes." I can't put down teachers, so this is my way of a dig. Let me rephrase that. I'd never put down teachers. I think teachers are over worked and underpaid, and I wasn't lying when I saidI think of inner-city schoolteachers as heroes. They go the one place everyone else is afraid to go. Private school teachers, however? Not heroes.
"I've always thought of them as getting the raw end of the deal," what's her face comments.
Donna glares at her and turns to Monotone Mike. "What made you choose private education?" Donna's not a fan of private education. I don't think tax dollars should pay for it, but I don't have a problem with it in general. Donna does. She thinks students in private schools miss out on multiculturalism and multi-social structures. They also have fewer advanced classes, fewer remedial classes, fewer foreign language classes, and fewer arts classes.
He shrugs. "Fewer discipline problems, smaller classes, freedom to teach religion, and less of a focus on the non-essentials."
"Non-essentials?"
"Music, art, dance, stuff like that." Oh. Bad move buddy. You just un-scored, if that's possible. Donna's a freak about the arts.
"You think the arts are non-essential?" she asks heatedly, eyes bugged out of her head. He promptly moves his arm from her chair. Yeah, that's right, she's not your typical date, teacher boy.
"Yeah. I mean, they're great, but not important like math, science, and language."
Donna looks at him and then at me like she can't believe she heard that. I motion for her to take it from here, and she turns back to him. "Students involved in arts programs have a higher overall GPA."
He shrugs. "Arts classes are easy A's."
"Did you know the average SAT score for students involved in arts programs is 1053, compared to the 971 average of students who aren't involved in the arts?"
"That just proves that smarter kids take arts programs."
"Or that arts programs teach students to think rather than memorize. A beginning band student learns more in their first year of band than in any other subject he or she takes that year." This is fun. Monotone Mike looks at me for help, but I just smile at him. Good luck outwitting the amazing Donnatella Moss. I've only managed it once, and it took a school history book to do it.
"What about money? The arts take up a huge chunk of school funding." I think this guy's a republican. I should've guessed. They're drawn to her; she's like a republican magnet.
"A band director teaches 60 more students each day than a classroom teacher does. If they weren't there, you'd have to hire three regular teachers to take their place. They're saving the school money," I shoot back. Donna looks at me and nods. Monotone Mike looks at me like I'm supposed to be on his team and I deserted ship. Doesn't he know I'm the enemy?
"I'm going to ask for the manager. This is ridiculous," what's her face says out of nowhere.
Donna looks at me, clearly wanting me to defend the waiter. I look around the room until I see him and give him the universal "we're ready" nod. "Here comes our waiter." This makes Donna smile.
He walks up and asks if we're ready to order. "We've been ready," what's her face spits out at him. "I'll have the grilled chicken Florentine with no ham and no cheese. And I don't want it cooked with any butter. Instead of the baked potato, I want broccoli, and I don't want any butter or salt on that either. I don't want any cheese, bacon, croutons or egg on my salad, and instead of dressing, just bring some balsamic vinegar." Great, she's one of "them."
The waiter looks over at Donna. "And for the lady?" he asks as though he wasn't just speaking to one. I choke on a laugh and Donna looks down at her menu and smiles.
"Thank you Jeff, I'll have the chicken teriyaki with vinaigrette dressing on my salad."
I lean over the table and talk quietly to her. "You don't like their teriyaki sauce."
"No, I don't like it at Morton's," she replies just as quietly.
"You don't like it here either, you said it was too sweet."
"Are you sure?"
"We sat over there," I say, pointing towards the kitchen. "With Toby and Leo. You ate my burger."
"Maybe I just liked your burger." I look pointedly at her. "Right." She glances at the menu and then up at the waiter. "You better make that the fettuccini alfredo with chicken and broccoli."
"Yes, ma'am. Sir?" he asks, looking at me.
"New York strip. Well done. Extremely well done. Butterfly it please. French Fries and the ceasar salad."
He nods and turns to Monotone Mike. "Sir?"
"The veal, medium. Smashed potatoes and ranch on my salad. And can I have another Heineken?" I catch Donna's eye and she makes an "ick" face. Veal: another one of those unconventional meats she doesn't like.
Once the waiter's gone, what's her face pounces on Donna. "Pasta and alfredo sauce? Most women have to be careful of what they eat. You must be one of the lucky ones," she says, as though Donna's committed some crime by enjoying her food.
Donna smiles. One of those smiles that's too big and really means that she wants to reach across the table and slap you, you know the one. "Guess so," she says dryly.
"What do you do?" Monotone Mike asks her.
"I'm a lawyer," she says. "I work for the Department of Health and Children."
"Do you enjoy it?"
She shrugs. "It's a job. I'd rather be working for the senate minority council."
"What do you do with the Department of Health and Children?"
"I work on legislation that concerns health or kids. I mostly work on language for bills being drafted."
"So you don't actually weigh in on the content; just the wording?" Donna asks.
What's her face gives Donna the evil eye. "Like you, I'm behind the scenes. Of course, I make sure it's legal. You…"
"Provide the research that helps the administration determine what side we'll fall on."
"Research anyone could find, given a computer." Hmm… should I step in and save her?
"Possibly, but the research I do gives me an insight to all sides of an argument, which means Josh often uses me as a sounding board or to play devil's advocate. So, it's not so much the research as what I do with it." Nope, she's ok on her own.
"So, where's the coolest place you've ever been for work," Monotone Mike asks while we're eating our salads. I mention we're eating our salads because he talks with a full mouth.
"I don't know," Donna shrugs. "We never really have time to be tourists. It's usually in and out."
"We don't like Indiana," I tell him.
"Indiana's fine, Josh."
"No it's not. Indiana's from the Twilight Zone. The time Twilight Zone."
Monotone Mike looks at me. "Come on, Indiana… the Indy 500, Bob Knight, Steve Warner…"
"Bob Knight's in Texas now," Donna tells him.
"I don't watch Nascar." I have a life.
"It's Indy car."
My eyes get big. "I don't watch that either." Is there a difference?
"Who's Steve Warner?" what's her face asks.
"You don't know who Steve Warner is? He's a country singer."
"Oh, I prefer classical," she says as though this makes her better than him.
This gets Donna's attention. "Really, what do you like?" Now, I have to give it to Donna here. She asked that in a completely genuine voice. She wasn't being snarky at all.
What's her face looks at her, giving her an evil eye. "I like Bach fugues and inventions, I like Porta's Numitore. I like Scarlatti."
"Domenico or Alessandro?"
She raises her eyebrows at Donna. "Domenico, mostly."
"So you're really a fan of baroque more than classical?"
"I guess so," she says.
Donna smiles at her and then turns to Monotone Mike. "It's a shame none of your students will be familiar with Domenico Scarlatti. He was a genius." Then she smiles and takes a bite of her salad. The whole sex in the cab thing is getting tempting.
When dinner comes, I immediately turn my plate so my fries are close to Donna. I do this out of habit. I've given up on keeping her out of my food, so I just go ahead and make it easier on her. She's concentrating on her chicken, but she keeps glancing over at Monotone Mike's veal. I know she's biting her tongue. Let's see what I can do to help that. "How's the veal, Mike?"
"It's great. I love veal. It's not one of those things I make at home, so I only get it when I go out. Do you like veal?" Yes, but I'm not about to tell him that. I'm also not going to lie. You're either for eating animals or you're not. I don't see where you get to pick and choose. You kill it when it's young or old; it's still going to end up on your plate. Donna, of course, disagrees with this theory whole-heartedly.
"I prefer adult cow."
"Burnt adult cow," Donna adds, taking a fry from my plate. What's her face jerks her head towards us when this happens, but then continues eating her dry chicken and spinach combination. And she gave Donna a hard time about her meal?
"Well, this is great veal. It's very tender." Donna looks at him, points her fork at him, and then re-thinks it and goes back to her food. I notice her glass is empty and motion for the waiter to refill it.
"What kind of movies do you like, Donna?" Monotone Mike asks a few minutes later.
"All kinds, really."
"No you don't," I remind her.
"Yes I do."
"You don't like horror movies, you freak out and have to stay at my place." This earns a head tilt from Monotone Mike. That's right, buddy. Overnight. How do you like that?
"I like them, they just scare me."
"What about The Sixth Sense? For two weeks, everyone you passed, you asked if I saw them too."
"Well, yeah…" she says, eating another fry. I combat this by taking a bite of her pasta. This earns us a glance from both Monotone Mike and what's her face.
When we leave, we all walk out together, and out of habit, I put my hand on Donna's back again. She wiggles away and walks up next to Monotone Mike, leaving me with what's her face. He puts his arm around her and I suddenly have the desire to kill him. I should control that desire.
And when we get outside, I know he's going to take her home and I'm going to take home what's her face, who's name I can't remember, but it doesn't stop me from trying to turn the tables. "You know, Donna lives near me," I say. That's untrue, but he doesn't know it. "It might be easier for her to share a cab with me…us," I say, motioning towards what's her face. Donna looks at the ground and smiles. She might complain, but she thinks I'm cute.
"Nah, I don't mind," Monotone Mike says, shaking his head slightly and leaving his arm around her waist.
"Well, ok then." Damn it. Is he gonna try to sleep with her? Is this guy going to try to get lucky, and if he tries, is he going to? I don't want to put her down, but she slept with Cliff on their second date. What to do…what to do…
He shakes my hand. "It was nice meeting you Josh. You too Kelly." Kelly, that's it!
"You too." I look at Donna. "You're ok getting home?" I ask her quietly. Please say no. Please say he's a freak who had two Heinekens and you're afraid he's going to try something and you need me to protect you. PLEASE!
She smiles and nods. "I'm fine, I'll see you in the morning."
"Right," I mumble as she steps into the cab waiting for them. And then it hits me. "Right! I need you there early. Very early, 5:30. And I need you to be alert. Big meeting; we need to be on top of the game. Get a good night's rest." a.k.a. don't have sex.
Then the cab door closes and the next one pulls up. I open the door for what's her face. I hope she lives close-by. I don't think I can take her all alone for long.