Chapter 11

And thus my new lunch routine began. At least once a week, sometimes twice, I walked over to Bob's Burgers and had lunch. Everything was delicious, of course. Whenever Bob was there the food had the extra bit of love and care that I knew him to put into all his cooking. It's why, once the public discovered him, he had gained such a loyal following. When he wasn't in and Zeke, Tina's husband, was in the kitchen, the food was still superb. I realised when Louise took me back into the kitchen to meet him that Zeke was the angry guy on the phone that one night. He was generally pretty quiet, often answering in five words or less. A true master of the monosyllable. I must have really pissed him off.

I learned Louise's schedule and always made time to go on days she was working. It was easier to pretend I was simply coming for lunch, not to see her. Of course I was coming to see her but the food was the excuse. One day my morning call with a supplier ran overly long and I missed my lunch window so that was the first day I went in for dinner instead. There was a good deal of mess at the counter as if a big rush had just ended so instead of my usual stool I sat at the corner booth and waited for Louise to see me. I could hear nothing from the kitchen which meant it was Zeke back there. If it had been Bob he would have been talking to himself, or the food, or both. Sometimes the food answered back but I'm pretty sure that everyone in his life had an unspoken agreement to ignore that.

The chalkboard didn't have a lunch special on it anymore. It now read "roast beef sandwich au jus." I had just started to think that I should say something to Zeke so they would know I was here when Louise came through the swinging kitchen door adjusting her apron. She seemed surprised to see me.

She paused and took a breath, bit her lip, then said, "Dinner this time, Logan?" She visibly sighed and forced out, "Don't you need to be at home with your family?"

I felt genuine confusion. "What family Louise? I mean, I like my mom but seeing her quarterly is taxing. And my dad moved to California with his 'secretary'" I laughed.

She paused momentarily, then sighed again and blurted, "No, your wife and daughter, Jackass." The word wife seemed to taste bad as she said it, given the face she made. Did she think I was still married? How did she know I was ever married? And most importantly- Why did she care?

"Louise, I'm divorced. And I don't have any kidsâ that I know about." I made a Groucho Marx eyebrow wiggle. She stopped pouring water into my glass and stared in surprise. So she must have not only known that I had been married but also seen my ex with her kid. I avoided them as much as I could but I know they still lived locally. James had left his New York job and moved here for her. Another man upended his life to give Megan what she wanted. (Not like I'm bitter or anything.)

I explained that Megan had a daughter and made a joke about the whole mess to appear much more nonchalant than I felt. Her betrayal still stung.

But hearing the word divorce had transformed Louise's face. Before she looked like she was expecting a root canal. Now she seemed much more relaxed. Perhaps also like I had alleviated some guilt? "Oh, so you're not expecting anyone? No wife at home?" I shook my head again and was treated to a very happy Louise taking off her apron, saying, "In that case…" and sitting on the bench across to the table from me. "Mind if I keep you company?"

Since I ordered the same thing every time, I couldn't help but poke at her a bit. "That would be nice. So, what would you recommend today?" She rolled her eyes at me.

"Zeke, two cheeseburgers! And extra fries!"

The evening passed and before I knew it we were closing down the place. She had to get up and actually work a little bit but Zeke made sure she didn't do much. He seemed to think she did enough work for two so she could and would eat dinner and spend time with me without feeling guilty for shirking. It was doubly fun for me since I both had great company and learned of a nickname I could use to torture her.

We parted ways after she chewed me out for not having seen Casablanca. My cinematic education was going to be kicked in overdrive, she said. After a couple more lunch visits and a couple more dinners, I finally found the opening I was looking for and invited her out drinking. There was a bar next door to Bob's, the scene of Louise's arrest as it happened, though we never brought up that night.

I had gone to the bar a few times over the years but pretty steadily for a drink after work since the divorce. Not too often but a couple times a month, give or take. It was a minor miracle that I never ran into Louise there before. One Friday I invited her out to blow off some steam and she proved she was just as good at holding her liquor as any guy in my frat. After that first night we started making a habit out of spending Friday nights out. Neither Louise nor I had to work Saturday mornings so we could (and did) hold out until last call.

Our friendship had progressed into something great after all that time spent together. She recommended movies to me, I recommended music to her. We talked about the few books we had both read (since neither of us were big readers.) Our crazy families, our vastly different college experiences, our hobbies- we talked about all of them. I would very naturally refer to her as my friend.

Honestly, some of my older friends had noticed that I was around less and that I mentioned her when we did hang out. Since I had been living a life devoid of female company after the divorce, minus a one night stand or two, talking about a woman caught Jacob's attention. He started making comments about my new girlfriend. Nothing crass or inappropriate (trust me I would have put that down quickly) because Jacob had learned a long time ago to speak about women with the respect due any person. I think it helped that his mother was a women's rights activist and the couple times she heard him spouting that locker-room talk she made clear to him the error of his ways.

When Jacob called Louise my girlfriend, I corrected him, at least the first couple times. Once it was clear he would persist doing it, I stopped bothering. That made me think, though. I really didn't mind my friends thinking she and I were together. And that thought motivated some self-reflection.

I liked Louise, really liked her. Like-liked, if I were to put it in schoolyard terms. The suspicions I had before, that she and I would be good friends, panned out. She was quickly becoming one of my closest friends, maybe even my best friend. And the thought of calling her my girlfriend?. It made me smile. I didn't correct Jacob because him calling her mine wasâ well it made me happy.

Having a female friend was new territory for me. I wish I had matured sooner. As a kid I was too obnoxious for girls to be friends with me. As an adult I had been too reclusive. After Megan I generally avoided getting too close to any woman, which was something my therapist had mentioned before. Janice said that keeping my heart away from the opposite sex was only punishing myself for my previous choices. In befriending Louise I had hoped to set those boundaries aside and learn how to be casual with a woman. Instead I started falling for her.

I was a dumpster fire. My only solace was that Louise, too, had described herself as a dumpster fire. Flaming hot garbage, she said, when I asked her about herself. When I asked her what she meant, she said that when it came to family she was great. When it came to work she was great. Both of those things were amazing and she counted on those stable pillars. But when it came to her personal life…

Something that nearly blew me away was how she said she thought she was set up to fail. I asked her what the hell that meant and she said that growing up, she had romantic partnerships modelled by pros. Her parents' marriage was balanced, loving, stalwart and inspirational. She could settle for nothing less than that. I remembered how I had thought the same thing when comparing my parents to hers once upon a time.

She said that if she could not find a partner who was also a best friend, then she would rather stay single. Of course that meant that she was perpetually single, she lamented. I could see she was serious but not really down on herself for having such a high standard. I joked I should be her wingman and find her a date.

I caught a glimpse of an expression cross over her face that I couldn't qualify. It wasn't confusion or anger or pain. My own stupid heart thought it may have been wistfulness- but my cynical side said it was scepticism. I couldn't blame her. I did not have a degree in yenta.

However, that wasn't going to stop me from trying to find out if I even had a chance. Maybe I wasn't her type at all, but since we were building the foundations of friendship, I had to know if she had it in her heart for a different kind of affection for me too.

I ordered tequila for us. "Anything special we're celebrating, or do you just want to get a jump start on cirrhosis?" Louise asked me sarcastically. I laughed and downed my shot, then she followed suit. "Woo! That's tequila all right." She made a face.

I couldn't help chuckling then said, "Oh, we're celebrating. I decided my new goal in life- we're getting you a man." I said it as a sort of joke, but right as Joe refilled our glasses, she downed it without waiting for me. I guess she took me seriously.

"I must have misheard you. I get mine." Since I had heard her mention two guys in our whole friendship and those had been cut off after the third date, I was pretty sceptical. "You're the one who needs a lady-friend." I loved how she phrased that. She was so much like her mom, sometimes.

I shook my head at her attempt to distract me. "I got a few numbers I can call." The brush-off was pretty well rehearsed by now. I had no idea how to tell her that the only sex I had in months was a three way with Tom Thumb and Rosy Palm. Besides, she wasn't going to get away from this conversation. I wanted to know what it was that she really looked for. "But this isn't about me. You are relationship kryptonite. You go on a few dates, you start to feel a connection, you let a guy into your pants, and then poof. You bolt." She and I both knew I was right so she didn't say anything. "Or you kill them. I haven't figured out if you're chicken about feelings or some sort of black widow."

"Oh you know they're dead. Don't even look in my closet." Joe refilled the glass again and she knocked it back. I knew I was getting closer to the root of the problem. It was feelings trouble.

"Have you tried internet dating?" I pressed for answers. She was drinking to avoid the subject but I was hoping she would let something slip with her guard down.

She snorted a laugh. "Yeah, I'm not so big on the idea of swiping left or whatever. How does it work? You're on Grindr, right?" I knew I hit a sore spot when she started getting snippy like that.

"Ok fine. I give up. For now." She rolled her eyes. Now to cast out a line and see if she responded. "As it is, I am looking for a lady. Found someone I kinda like, actually, but she's different from other girls I've been with and I could ask your advice." Her expression was inscrutable.

"Different? So, this chick has not been lobotomized? She's never been Miss Teen anything?" Was it me or was she a bit shrill? "She wears underwear?" She was laughing at her joke. What kind of women did she think I liked? Well, she saw Charlene that once. Maybe she figured that was my type.

"Ha ha ha, Lulu." I used the nickname I knew she hated that only her brother-in-law was allowed to use. "She's incredible. She's not into money. She's not a bottle blonde. She can actually tell a joke instead of just laughing at mine." How long would it take before she realised I was describing her?

"Okay, okay, okay, she's a paragon. I get it." Still snippy, she must have missed every clue! "But the ultimate proof of her worth- has she seen Casablanca?" That was Louise's litmus test for cool people. I cringed.

"I'm assuming yes. She's into old movies and stuff." I kept dropping breadcrumbs that she didn't see. "So, since she's actually pretty cool, I don't think my usual 'flash the smile and some cash' approach will work. I mean, she knows already that I have money but she doesn't seem impressed. What should I do?" C'mon little fishy… take the bait…

"Well, you could start by talking to her like a person. Like you talk to me." She was SO close but not getting it. "Be a nice guy. No pick-up lines. No games." Well fuck. "Just be a normal person talking to another person." I could hear her voice straining. She didn't really want to talk about this. Was she upset about the thought of me dating someone? Was this simply disinterest in giving romantic advice? "Just… find out what she likes. What movies she watches, books she reads. Where she works. Talk about things she's into. She'll likely do most of the work if you can get her talking about stuff she likes. You're not an idiot so don't date one." Yikes. I had pushed too many buttons.

So I took a shot, mulled over what she said, and slapped more money on the counter for Joe. I was very very close to declaring my feelings right there but I chickened out. "Okay, you're making sense. Be nice. Listen. Talk about her interests. Alright! So, can I just ask her what she likes or is it creepy to check her Facebook?" I had already been through hers a dozen times.

"Surface check only, no deep mining." Oops. "And don't 'like' anything. That screams creeper, until you're friends." Whew, glad I didn't do that. "And then, again, only new stuff. Nothing over a week old." I was actually learning a lot. Maybe I should take notes. Joe poured two more. Louise took them both. I made a face and nodded to Joe for another.

"Can we change this subject now? Did you finally watch those movies I told you to look up?" I dropped the subject as she requested and then tried the very thing she recommended. Listening. Letting her talk about stuff she likes. Be nice.

Somehow a conversation about Mel Brooks turned into a conversation about broadway then it turned to show tunes. We started singing at the top of our drunk little lungs and then begged Joe to get a karaoke machine.