It was noon on a beautiful Tuesday in September. Lisa had taken off work and now sat at a table reviewing the menu with both her grandmothers and her great-aunt at a popular Italian restaurant in the South Loop neighborhood of Chicago. This restaurant was their favorite spot to stop for lunch when they took the train downtown for a girls’ day. They had been bringing her here since before her mother had passed away when she was only nine, and they always had the same argument about whether to order pizza, split an entrée, or just have salads. Eventually, they would order all three like they did every time.
Lisa was in her early thirties and still unmarried, much to the behest of the three women sharing her table. They believed, that aside from her successful career, she would only be happy once she married and had children of her own. Her longtime boyfriend, Ira, had recently proposed, and she had said yes… reluctantly. So it looked as though they would soon get their wish. But sadly, the main reason she had given in was that he had proposed in front of both their families, putting her on the spot–that and her family had worn her down with their incessant badgering to wed. She admitted marriage seemed the obvious next step if she did not feel their enthusiasm, but today she had left her engagement ring at home, saying she worried about wearing it in the big city.
When she thought about it, it was amazing she had managed to fend Ira off this long. Her family thought he would make the perfect husband and had it all planned out in their minds. He came from a good family, was the right religion, and would take over the successful diamond business his family owned. They would live in the suburbs, she would stop working when they had kids–which would be immediate–they would smile, buy a dog and a minivan, and live a comfortable life together. Everything would go according to the script her family had written for her. Although, by their timetable she was a little behind schedule, having put off Ira’s previous proposals by claiming they were too young, not ready, or should wait until they were further along in their careers.
Looking back, Lisa felt her family had mapped out her entire life for her since birth. She had always done the right things, lived by their rules, and gone where they told her when they told her. When she had gone to Northwestern, she had even studied accounting rather than following her dream of studying journalism. And now… she had a great job with a major accounting firm but derived no joy from it. The success of her job had afforded her the ability to own a nice home, drive a nice car, and take the occasional nice trip, but even those were spent with all or a portion of her family, going where they wanted and doing what they wanted.
All the perks might sound nice on paper, but the problem was Lisa had always felt she could, and should, find true love and have a life of her own. She wanted to experience life with someone she felt connected to, someone she could give herself to and who would give himself to her, someone who made her feel real passion. Lisa’s father, who had never remarried after her mother died, never missed a chance to remind her she was a hopeless romantic and a dreamer. He had told her on many occasions love and passion like she read about in romance novels did not exist, but she believed it must.
As the ladies discussed whether they should save room for cannoli, Lisa felt the pressure in the room change, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced over to see the door had opened. A man walked in, confident and sure of himself as he politely passed a family waiting to be seated. Changing his route so he would not bump into a waitress carrying a tray full of food, he made his way through the maze of tables to the bar.
As he did, he passed right by Lisa’s table, his eyes meeting hers as he smiled. Blushing, she looked down at her menu and tried to pretend she followed the conversation. Her favorite grandmother, Bubby, noticed the interaction.“What? You like that young man? He’s got a nice little tuckus!” The other ladies immediately looked up, trying to spot the topic of the subject change.
“Who?” asked her other grandmother.
“Where?” asked her aunt.
“The one at the bar.”
“The fat bald guy? He looks like Morty!”Lisa’s aunt said.
“No, the one with the nice BUTT!” Bubby said.
“Oh, he’s cute! You’re right. Nice fanny.”
Sure the entire restaurant–including the victim of their flirtatious attention–could hear all their ramblings, Lisa felt her face grow even redder and wished the booth would swallow her whole as the ladies pointed and giggled like school girls. Perhaps they should not have started their meal with a bottle of wine.
The handsome man in question now stood at the corner of the bar since men in trading coats occupied most of the stools. An old television that looked as if it would fall off the rickety shelf at any minute played a CNBC financial report, and a mature but attractive bartender recognized him and smiled. “Stoli on the rocks while you wait, hun? I don’t think your order’s ready yet.”
“Sure.”
As he tried to focus on the news, the table with the beautiful woman and three older ladies kept drawing his attention away. He did not even notice their pointing or comments. Instead, he focused on her. She had thick shiny shoulder-length black hair and a striking face. She wore a thin white V-neck sweater under a grey vest in what he guessed was an attempt to conceal her ample breasts. He could make out her thin waist and speculated the tight black jeans she wore covered a nice set of hips and a round ass under the napkin on her lap. She had put on expensive black high-heeled boots for the trip downtown. Not very comfortable, he guessed they must have made her feel she fit in. Her clothing was fashionable and fit well, but her demeanor told him she lived in the suburbs and rarely came into the city.
Taking a sip of his drink, he tried not to appear obvious in his assessment of her as she peered up from the table to see if he had noticed the ladies gawking at him. They shared a quick glance then both looked away as if caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
When their eyes met once more, Lisa wanted to continue flirting, but she shyly looked away again. She had not stared as he had walked by, but she had seen enough to know there was something different about him aside from the fact he did not wear a trading coat. He seemed more at ease than the other men at the bar. Perhaps more confident, maybe more polished.
His full head of dirty-blond hair appeared tousled as if he had run his fingers through it several times that morning due to stress. It was not messy, just natural. The charcoal cashmere sweater he wore formed his solid upper body perfectly, and his black pants must have been tailored to him. His forearms looked strong with thick veins running prominently down their length, and a large stainless-steel watch adorned his left wrist. She noticed he wore no rings on his fingers.
Lisa guessed he was about six feet tall. Not the largest man in the room, but there seemed to be a gravity to him, and it was not just her table that felt it. Looking around the room, she noticed other women looking at him with appreciation and men sizing him up. Even the waitresses, who had obviously seen him there many times before, were stealing glances or even a pinch of his tight ass as they passed him. One made a joke as she walked by. “Come to steal me away from all this today? Will you take me home and make me your sex slave?”
Lisa wondered if her father knew him. Daddy would hate him, she thought. Her father had forbidden her to date anyone who worked down there. When he said down there, he meant anywhere near the trading floors. She took it more as anywhere outside her community… anyone who lived, worked, or played downtown. This man definitely worked down there, certainly lived down there, and probably dated beautiful women DOWN THERE! Not to mention the fact he did not look Jewish. No, her father would not approve!
Ironically, the reason they were even in this restaurant near The Board of Trade and Options Exchange was her father was a Trader, as was her grandfather. They had both raved about this place and how good the food was, which was the reason her grandmothers had started bringing her here years ago. Both men had made their fortunes in the business and had lifelong drinking buddies, golfing partners, and friends from the Exchanges. According to her father, it was one thing for them to associate with these people but entirely different for her to get involved with anyone like them. None of them was good enough for “his princess”.
The next few moments seemed to fly by. Lisa feigned interest in the conversation at her table while taking every opportunity to steal a glance at the man at the bar. He shared pleasantries with other customers who took seats there, but his attention wandered between them, the television screen, and the eyes of the beautiful woman across the room. There was an obvious and intense attraction between them. They became bolder each time their eyes met, their glances lingering slightly longer.
Too soon, the son of the restaurant owner delivered two large bags of food, interrupting their latest glance. Setting it on the open stool next to him, he handed his bill to the bartender who picked up the credit card he had already laid on the bar. He signed his receipt, thanked the bartender, took a final sip of his drink, and stole a look at Lisa as he grabbed the bags of hot food and headed for the door.
She watched as he carried his lunch toward the exit. He and the owner exchanged goodbyes when he looked back at her one last time as he walked out. Watching to see if he glanced at her through the window as he walked down the sidewalk, she saw him turn his head. She smiled but got no response.
Lisa regrettably returned to reality, her head down and shoulders slumped. Her grandmother had just attempted to re-engage her in conversation when she sensed the door open again. Seeing him walk back in, she immediately perked up. He went straight to the owner’s table and put his bags down. Removing something from his wallet, he borrowed the owner’s pen and wrote something on it then approached their table and looked into her eyes.
“Hi. I’m Patrick.”
The older ladies looked at him sideways but politely introduced themselves. Since the beautiful woman he wanted to meet seemed unable to speak, one of them spoke for her. “This is our Lisa. Sorry, she seems a bit shy today.”
“Sorry. I’m Lisa. Very nice to meet you,” she said as she extended her hand.
He fit her small hand into his and gave it a firm squeeze. Lisa felt a jolt of electricity run through her entire body at his touch, and it seemed to slow. What was only a few seconds seemed like minutes. Releasing each other’s hand, they held the lock they had on each other’s eyes.
Patrick refocused, explaining he had overheard them talking about visiting The Art Institute when he had walked by earlier. “I’m a member there, and they give all members guest passes in case we want to bring anyone. I thought you ladies might want to use it. I put my phone number on the back in case they give you any problems.”
The ladies all seemed very appreciative, talking over one another. “Thank you very much, young man,” Bubby said.
“Also, if you’d be interested, I’d love to have a cup of coffee or a drink with you and hear what you thought of it.” He talked to the whole table but directed the comment toward Lisa.
As Lisa tried to respond, her grandmother interrupted her. “Well, thank you very much, but we’re having dinner with Lisa’s father, my son. He owns a firm down here. She’s engaged you know.”
Patrick got the point. “Okay. Well, enjoy the exhibit. Let me know if your plans change. Feel free to call if I can help in any way.”
He turned to leave and saw the rotund owner smile and nod, having observed his attempt to earn the young lady’s favor. Moving through the crowded room, he pushed open the exterior door to leave, his mind churning. Why am I so attracted to engaged women? I can’t do this again… She’s clearly in a relationship. Her grandmother made it very clear she was engaged.
Patrick tried looking through the window to see if she was watching, but the sun only allowed him a glimpse of his own reflection. Mind still racing, his thoughts took him back to Nikki. I can’t go through that again. I can’t break up another relationship. Does Lisa love her fiancé? Is she just with him out of convenience? We seemed to have such an attraction. The same attraction Nikki and I shared that first day. Would she be that attracted to me if she was happy in her relationship?
As he entered his building, his mind was so consumed by his thoughts he missed the greetings of several acquaintances. Nikki told me to find the kind of love we had. She wanted me to be happy and to make someone else as happy as I made her. Fuck it. I haven’t felt this way since her, and Lisa won’t call unless she’s unhappy where she is. I need to go after it. Please, Lisa… Please call me!
