You know the thing I'd do first
Chapter Three
Ted walked through the front door of MacLaren's carrying his remaining leaflets. He looked around the bar as he entered. It seemed to be a fairly quiet night. He recognised some of the more regular groups, but there was no one around who he knew well enough to share a conversation with.
He handed the leaflets back to Carl, who gave him an enquiring look. Ted had only handed out around a third of the leaflets that Carl had given him, and although the barman was pleased with this unexpected favour, he was confused as to why it seemed that Ted had only delivered to perhaps a couple of streets or a small apartment block.
Ted sat opposite him on one of the bar stools.
'The Indians are playing if you want me to put it on,' Carl said.
'Nah, I'm okay,' Ted replied.
'Well, they're playing The Yankees, so you've got no choice, buddy,' Carl said, changing the channel.
The footage on the TV switched over just as a Yankees player hit the ball into the crowd for a home run. Carl turned back to Ted with a broad smile across his face.
'It's going to be a good night,' Carl said.
Ted shook his head sadly and silently ordered a beer. When Carl returned with his drink, Ted noticed that he was alone behind the bar.
'Are you short tonight?' Ted asked.
'Yeah, Wendy agreed to do a few fill in shifts for me as she's back in the city but she called in sick. So, yeah, we're short,' Carl replied as he went to serve the next customer.
'I could help if you like,' Ted said as the barman returned.
'No,' Carl said, rather more firmly than he had intended to.
There was an awkward pause as they recalled the previous occasion that Ted had worked the bar at MacLaren's. Carl had found some unwelcome surprises the next day, which led to him asking Ted to help him clean up when he arrived with Marshall and Robin the following evening.
Ted returned to his drink and focussed his energy on ignoring the baseball match. This was proving increasingly difficult, especially when Carl pointed out at great volume to the other patrons that Ted was the only Indians fan in the establishment. The widespread laughter this was greeted with reminded him of occasions in the past that he had told strangers that he supported the Washington Generals. He reflected that his choice of sports teams had been an aspect of his life that rarely had provided him with much satisfaction.
Ted stood and left his bar stool to sit in his regular booth. It was unoccupied. None of the rest of the gang could make it out to join him that night. He had attempted, somewhat frantically, to call Marshall after his experience at the woman's apartment, but had only got as far as his voicemail.
He retrieved the ticket for Robots vs. Wrestlers that he had stashed in his jacket pocket and placed it on the table in front of him.
He looked up, and noticed that someone had walked into the bar, someone that he recognised distantly but could not immediately place. She had medium length sandy hair which fell half way down her back. She carried with her a book, it looked to be a Sherlock Holmes mystery but Ted was not certain. She sat at one of the bar stools and started to read.
'Coat Check Girl,' he said to himself.
She turned around, clearly hearing his voice and looked at him with curiosity, placing the book back in her bag. It occurred to Ted in that moment to run out of the bar or hide under the table, but the delay in acting on that impulse prevented him from doing so, as she walked over to the booth with a straightforwardness that he recalled from their last encounter.
'Ted?' she asked.
'Yeah, hi,' Ted replied.
As she stood there, inspecting the booth, Ted realised that he had not seen her in seven years. Her hair had grown, he noted, and she looked thinner than he remembered. She sat down opposite him.
'You never came back,' she said.
'Yeah, I meant to but, well, you know how these things are,' he replied.
'What? You meet someone you like, never bother to contact them, then run into them in a bar seven years later?' she concluded.
'Something like that,' Ted replied quietly.
She laughed. Ted shifted uneasily in his seat. He was quite unsure how to handle this. How, he wondered, should he talk to other women now that he had met the woman who would, at least in theory, eventually become his wife.
'Look, I never even got your name, so, um, it seems wrong to keep calling you "Coat Check Girl",' Ted begun.
'Amanda, my name's Amanda,' she interrupted.
'Amanda, right. Well, Amanda, I'm actually waiting for a date so I'm sorry to end this conversation a little prematurely but, I'm afraid I can't talk to you,' Ted said.
Amanda nodded slowly. She offered a half smile and reached into her bag to produce a business card which she placed it on the table.
'That's got my number on it, so call me if it doesn't go well,' she said as she stood up and returned to the bar.
Ted nodded in thanks. He picked up the business card and read it, curious to discover what the woman he had known as 'Coat Check Girl' for so many years was currently doing with her life.
Amanda Graham, Fashion Designer, East 24th St.
Ted nodded in appreciation at the change in Amanda's fortunes. It had always seemed a waste to him to have someone with as sharp a wit as hers checking in coats at a dance club. He felt guilty for lying to her about his non-existent date, yet he now knew with a certainty he had rarely experienced before that there was only one woman he wished to be with. Even though, to his surprise, he had discovered earlier that evening that she was not as single as he had assumed.
'Dammit Future Me,' Ted whispered to himself.
As he placed the card back on the table in front of him, he noticed in his peripheral vision a familiar face from earlier in the evening.
It was her. The woman whose apartment door he had approached not more than an hour ago. She had arrived at MacLaren's. Quite where from Ted could not tell, though he could read the expression on her face from countless similar situations in his past. It spoke of incomprehension and disappointment. She was staring at the business card. Ted was unsure how long she had been standing there but realised with regret how she may have perceived the conversation he had just shared.
Their eyes met briefly, and then she walked quickly out of the bar.