December 30, 1973
Flick's Tavern, 8:30 pm
"Schwartz, as much as I love taking your money, and believe me, I really love actually taking your money for a change, but you ought to take Jane on a real date."
Schwartz sat at the bar, hardly touching his beer, and glancing over at the door every few seconds. Jane was late. She'd said she'd be here by 8 o'clock. He couldn't help but suspect he'd driven her off, back to Minneapolis and whatever she seemed to be running from. "We're just hanging out, Flick," he said, trying to keep his voice light. Trying to hide the uncertainty. Truth was, he wasn't sure. He knew he liked her. He knew he'd like to do more than sit in a bar with her, more than play shuffleboard with her, more than eat pork rinds with her. So much more.
He just wasn't sure what she wanted.
Flick tapped his hand next to Schwartz's glass, and Schwartz looked up.
"If that's true, it's only because you're being an idiot."
Schwartz rolled his eyes.
"She's been here every night since she came home. With you. She likes you."
He looked down at the bar top. Not with his luck. What would a girl as beautiful and smart as Jane see in him? She'd gone to college. Had a career in school administration. She had a master's degree, for heaven's sake. She'd written papers on educational theories, papers published in fancy journals that only geniuses and experts read.
He was an unemployed mechanic and lived with his mother.
What in the hell could she possible see in him?
"She does, Schwartzy. Trust me. I can see it."
He looked up again, and Flick smiled at him in that brotherly way he sometimes had about him. He'd never say it out loud, but Schwartz valued that more than just about anything else, including Flick's leeway with his tab. "You think so?"
Flick nodded, still with the smile. "I know so. So take her out to dinner. Somewhere that isn't here."
"Well, maybe I will." Schwartz downed the remainder of his beer. "If she ever comes back."
"Here she comes." Flick tilted his head toward the front door.
Schwartz glanced over. His heart turned over in his chest as he watched Jane noticed him and smiled as she walked in. He sat up straighter and tried to breathe normally. Hard, that, because she looked so beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold. As she reached him, she took her hat off and shook her head, and Schwartz swallowed hard. He'd have sworn it happened in slow motion, her hair swinging all around her gorgeous face, her eyes closed, her lips – God, such perfect pink lips - turned upwards.
He wasn't quite sure how it happened, but he found himself on his feet and helping Jane take her coat off.
"I'm sorry I'm late," she said. She beamed at him, and again, his heart did some wacky flips. "I was on the phone…work stuff."
"Oh, sure," he said. "I figured it was something like that."
"What'll you have, Jane?" Flick grinned at Jane, then raised his eyebrows at Schwartz.
Schwartz shook his head but couldn't stop his own grin as he sat back down on his stool. He noticed that Jane moved her stool closer to his, and when she sat down, her shoulder touched his.
Damn, maybe Flick was right.
He wanted to burst out laughing, but managed to restrain himself.
"Something hot. A hot toddy or something." She looked at Schwartz and smiled. "I need to warm up. It is so cold outside."
Schwartz's gut told him this was an invitation for him to casually put his arm around her shoulders. And the look Flick gave him told him he wasn't completely off. So with a slightly ragged breath, he moved his right arm and wrapped it around the back of her, resting it on the back of her stool. He didn't dare put his hand on her shoulder the way he wanted to, but he let it move dangerously close.
And it seemed to him that in response, Jane leaned into him.
Oh, hell.
He moved his hand to her shoulder.
She gave him the sweetest smile he'd ever seen. And there it went, his heart flipping over and over again. God, it had been years since he'd felt anything like this. Actually, he never really had felt anything like this. Not this intense. This must be how Ralphie felt about Sandy. How Flick had felt about Alice. How he felt now about Lois.
"How was your day?"
"Much better now that you're here." Cheesy, sure, Schwartz thought, but Jane's eyes sparkled, so it was worth it.
"There you go, Jane. One hot toddy."
"Thanks, Flick." But she didn't look away from Schwartz, and he grinned. "Got any good stories today?"
He didn't. "Have I told you about the time I rode the ramp and lived?"
She threw her head back and laughed, that sweetest, most musical laugh he'd ever heard, and he chuckled, too. "You have. But you know what? I want to hear it again."
Schwartz glanced at Flick, who surreptitiously gave him a thumbs up, and suddenly, all was right in the world.
An hour later, Schwartz and Jane sat in one of the booths that lined the tavern's side wall, same side. He watched as she traced the fingers of his right hand, which lay on the table, with the tip of her index finger.
"Did you ever play the piano?"
"My sister did. Mom tried to make me, but my old man got me out of it."
"Your fingers are so long. Good piano-playing fingers."
"You played, didn't you? I remember you took lessons from the same lady who taught my sister."
"Still do." She smiled, but then looked down, and the smile disappeared. Her hand disappeared from his, too, and it deflated him a little bit. "Although I had to leave my piano in Minneapolis."
Probably more than just the piano, he thought, judging from the look on her face. Sorrow and something else, something darker that he couldn't quite name. "Won't you be able to get it back?"
She stared at her drink, a tonic water with a twist of lemon. She hadn't been lying when she'd told him she wasn't a big drinker. In solidarity, he'd ordered the same and ignored the disbelief on Flick's face. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know if I'll ever be able to go back there."
She hadn't said much about her past. He knew she was recently divorced. Knew she'd found a job here at their old junior high school that started in a few weeks. Knew her parents had moved to Florida a few years ago and that she wasn't very close to them. Other than that, she was a mystery, and one that didn't seem to want to be solved quite yet. "Well, hey. My mom still has hers. You can come play it any time you want. My sister's gone, and Mom doesn't play anymore, so it just sits there. She'd be glad to have it played again."
She looked at him. Smiled at him. "And I'd get to meet her."
"You've met her."
"Thirty-some years ago."
"Well, she hasn't changed much. Except her eyesight." He shrugged and gave a little smirk. "Besides, she'll be thrilled for me to bring someone home."
"She gets after you about it?"
"She used to. Hasn't for a couple years now. I think she's given up."
"Have you?"
Their eyes met. His heart stopped. A loaded question if ever there was one. He wondered about the light in her eyes – was that hope? It could be fear, he supposed, but seemed more like hope. Or maybe it was his own hope coloring his own eyes and making him see hope where there was really fear. Jesus, Schwartz, just say something.
"If you'd asked me a couple days ago, I probably would have said yes."
She chewed her lower lip. "And now?"
He smiled, despite the nerves wreaking havoc in his gut. "I'd say no."
She smiled and looked down at their hands resting next to one another on the table. On impulse, he turned his over so the palm faced up. An invitation. And he prayed that she'd take it.
She did. She put her hand in his and his fingers curled up to cover it.
"Lucky me, then," she said, softly, sweetly, and even though Schwartz was inclined to not believe her, the warmth of her voice and the softness of her eyes wouldn't let him.
"Do you have plans tomorrow night?" he said. "I mean, I know it's New Year's Eve. I always just come here, but I thought we could go have dinner. Somewhere else. Together."
Her eyes were an interesting shade of brown, he thought, with flecks of gold in them. And he'd noticed that when she smiled, those flecks really seemed to dance. They danced now.
"I thought you would never ask."
"Is that a yes?"
"That's a yes."
An hour later, Schwartz took the few steps up to the bar to get one last drink for Jane and one last drink for him. "Hey Flick," he said. "Give me another shot and I'll take a Grasshopper for Jane." He chuckled at the look on Flick's face. "Sorry, man. She wants something sweet."
Flick grinned. "You're not sweet enough, huh?" He poured a shot and pushed it to Schwartz. "Looks like things are going well."
"Except now I have to figure out where to take her tomorrow night." He tried not to grin triumphantly, but failed, and laughed when Flick turned around with a wide smile.
"Way to go!" Flick slide the Grasshopper to him. "Just don't screw it up."
"Such faith you have in me."
Flick sighed and rested his hands on the bar top, his eyes leveled on Schwartz. Schwartz smirked, but Flick's expression remained serious. "I do have faith in you, Schwartzy. I just wonder if you have faith in yourself."
Schwartz glanced over his shoulder. Jane sat at their table, watching him, and she tilted her head, crooked her finger at him. A rush of confidence surged through his blood. He turned back to Flick and grinned. "I'm starting to."
And with that, he picked up the drinks and went back to his girl. Or to who he hoped would soon be his girl.