#9 - Back to the Future

Rachel arrived at The Yellow Bowl ten minutes before noon. She was usually early, and Becky usually late. This is the way it had been since college. She sat at a table near the front window, watching the entrance and sipping from a glass of ice water the server had brought. The restaurant wasn’t busy yet, but after a few parties wandered in - all women, in groups of twos and threes - Rachel retrieved her phone from her purse and looked at the time. It was only two minutes past, and Becky would never consider herself late until at least a quarter of an hour after their agreed upon time.

Rachel picked up a menu and glanced at the selections. They had met at The Yellow Bowl once before, but she couldn’t remember what she’d eaten. The choices ranged from Asian-fusion to Italian-inspired, everything vegan and everything served in oversized yellow bowls. She was only half-conscious of the images and descriptions in the menu, distracted by the conversations taking place among the women at the tables nearby. It seemed as though they were all speaking unusually loud, but then Rachel realized that there was no ambient music playing, and the lack of background noise emphasized the volume of normal speech. The hostess at the front must have noticed the same. She disappeared into the kitchen and a moment later soft music began playing from hidden speakers.

Rachel set the menu back on the table. She wouldn’t be able to decide what she wanted to eat until she knew what Becky would order. If Becky was having a ‘diet day’, Rachel, too, would order a salad. If Becky was relaxed and ordered pasta, Rachel would have access to the entire menu.

At a booth only six feet to Rachel’s right, sat a group of three women. They had arrived together, and since sitting down had been speaking in hushed voices. They seemed disinterested in the menus the server had presented. Two asked for water, one for Diet Coke. The two water-drinkers sat somewhat crowded on one bench, while the Diet Coke-drinker sat across from them. She was the youngest of the group.

“I wouldn’t say that, you know, any line has been crossed. But he does make me uncomfortable. There’s just something not-exactly-right about him. Do you feel that?” The Diet Coke-drinker said.

Rachel pulled her phone out again and pretended to be deeply focused as she looked at the screen and listened to the women’s conversation. Movement at the entrance caused her to look up. Becky was standing near the door. She glanced around, found Rachel, and the two of them waved to one another.

“Sorry.” Becky said, slipping into the seat across from Rachel. “Have you been waiting a long time?”

“Only a few minutes.” Rachel said. “How’s your day going?”

The server, a tattooed, college-aged girl with cropped hair and an eyebrow piercing, dropped off another menu for Becky.

“Can I get a water with lemon? No ice please.” Becky said.

When the server had stepped away, Becky said, “Rachel - Oh - My - God. Today has been...one of those days.”

“What happened?” Rachel said.

Becky shook her head and rolled her eyes. “It’s work stuff. Boring, really. I work with some truly idiotic people, that’s all.”

Their conversations often gravitated towards Becky’s frustrations with her co-workers at the bank. Rachel knew the names of several of the worst offenders, though she’d never met them. Sometimes, when listening to a long bank-related story, Rachel would have to stop Becky to clarify who-had-said-this or who-had-said-that, trying to keep all the characters straight in her mind.

They turned their focus toward the menu. After a quiet moment of consideration, Rachel asked, “What sounds good to you?”

Becky didn’t look up. “The teriyaki tofu salad was good last time. I think I’m going back to that.”

So, salad it was. Rachel navigated back to the salad page of the menu. When the server returned, Becky ordered the teriyaki tofu salad and Rachel decided on a kale salad with rosemary shallot dressing.

While they waited, Becky launched into a complaint about her co-worker, David. As her direct supervisor, he had appeared in her stories before, and though Becky had never taken the time to describe his appearance, she had confided that he was ‘attractive’. In Rachel’s imagination, the role of David was played by one of her old college history professors, Dr. Kyle. His looks had faded, but there was something in his confidence that hinted at earlier glory. There was still a bit of the glow left, but less than he thought.

“It’s his whole demeanor.” Becky was saying. “It’s obvious he thinks I’m incapable by the way he talks to me. I think he really has something against women. He feels threatened by me or something.”

The salads came and Becky forgot about her story.

“You need to taste this. It’s so good.” She said.

Rachel reached over and used her fork to spear a bite of the lettuce and tofu. She chewed thoughtfully, nodding with appreciation. “That's good. Here, try mine.”

“That’s okay, I’m not big on kale.” Becky said. Her phone suddenly buzzed and she reached into her pocket to check on it. She read the text message and started tapping a response with her thumbs. “Sorry.”

Rachel laughed. “I’m just as bad.”

When Becky looked up she said, “So, what’s new? I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.”

Rachel had been waiting for this. She didn’t like talking about herself unless someone asked specifically. But today she had real news. Something was actually happening in her life, which was another way of saying...

“I think I’ve met someone.”

It came out so abruptly. She had wanted to sound more casual, to possibly lump this information in with other mundane comments about her busy schedule or news about her family back home. But there it was.

“You think you’ve met someone, or you have met someone?”

Rachel laughed. “I guess I have met someone.”

“Wow.” Becky said. “I didn’t know if this would ever happen. No, I’m only kidding. Just... wow. Congratulations.”

“Well, thanks. I was starting to think it might not happen, too.” Rachel said.

“What’s his name? How’d you meet?”

“His names Rob.” Rachel said, answering Becky’s first question. She had considered how to answer the second question for several days, but had come up empty on how to sugar-coat the truth.

“We met online, you could say. I joined one of those dating sites a couple months ago.”

“Oh. Okay. So, have you met him? Like, face-to-face? Or is it just online?” Becky asked.

“No, no. We’ve met. We had our first date about a week ago.” Rachel said. She was already feeling defensive. Maybe she should have waited to talk to Becky about this.

“But, you know? I don’t know. He seems nice. It’s nothing serious. Just getting to know one another.” She said.

“I don’t know much about this whole internet dating thing. What I hear is that you need to be really careful, Rachel. Definitely take this slow.” Becky said. “I’m happy for you. Just worried, you know, since you haven’t had many - or any relationships, really.”

Rachel had seen this coming. Becky liked to remind her how disparate their lives were. Of course Becky wouldn’t know anything about online dating. She’d never had to stoop to that level. The men had always lined up for her.

“It’s good for you to get some experience, right? I’m glad you’re not taking it too seriously.” Becky said.

Rachel focused on her salad, stuffing a few bites into her mouth quickly without looking up from her bowl.

“But anyway, what’s he like?” Becky said.

Rachel wanted to say: He was kind. He was nervous. Can you believe that? Nervous to be on a date with me? He listened to me, and seemed genuinely interested in what I said. He asked questions about my life and my opinions. A glob of spicy mustard fell on his shirt and he didn’t notice it for five minutes. He dressed pretty nice, though still had a bit of sloppiness about him. He looked me in the eye, except when he finally had the courage to say I looked pretty. He didn’t talk about himself the whole time, but when he did, he didn’t brag. He was kinda funny, or at least tried to be. He was pretty damn cool, actually.

Rachel said, “He’s a graphic designer, and, I guess, does some website development stuff. He’s twenty-five. We went to Flat’s Brewery.”

“Love that place.” Becky said. “The fish tacos? Amazing.”

* * * * *

To learn more about Back to the Future, read the original Wikipedia article HERE.