"Like Riding a Bike"

Marcus Lee dropped into the corner booth and looked up for the waitress with a happy smile. For the past three months, he could be counted on walking through the cafe's doors at 10am sharp, Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday. Those were her work days, he'd learned through trial and error. Though he claimed to be here for the pancakes and eggs special, he was truly here for her, and on the rare days when she wasn't on shift, he was typically out the door as soon as he finished a cup of coffee.

Discovering the sexy young waitress had changed Marcus's life. Oh sure, at 54 years old, he should have been ashamed to flirt with her like he did. He had learned through casual conversation that she was barely 18, a freshman at the local Community College. But he couldn't help it. He'd lost his wife almost a decade ago and hadn't dated even once since then. It wasn't like he was a sad old man wasting away in a front porch rocking chair, a faithful old Golden Retriever asleep beside him, raising his head only when the mail man stopped by to talk about the weather. But he certainly wasn't one of those dirty old men who flirted with and too often made passes at women half his age, acting like fools as they made futile attempts to just once more see a beautiful body naked in his bed.

No, Marcus Lee was somewhere in between. He'd long told himself he needed to get back out there, and his friends had agreed. But it was a small town, and he knew all of the eligible women hereabouts. And not a single one of them had piqued his interest until her. Of course, she wasn't exactly single, either. In conversation, Marcus had learned that she had a boyfriend. He'd hid his disappointment as best he could, but he had a feeling she'd seen it in his face. He'd almost given up his pursuit to get to know her better, skipping breakfast on her next two shifts.

But he hadn't been able to stay away. It wasn't just that she was attractive. It wasn't just that she was friendly. It wasn't just that she had the cutest, tightest, most desirable little tushy upon which his gaze had ever fallen. It was all of that and more, the more including that despite his open flirtations, she'd never once given him the impression that she resented it. Other guys hit on her while she worked. Marcus had seen it. Once he'd almost gotten up to chastise a guy who patted her on the ass, but the issue had been dealt with before he could even scoot out of the booth.

He wanted so badly to get closer to her, but ... how does an old man do that with a girl who was young enough to be his granddaughter?

"Kim, your boyfriend's here," I heard, Janice - one of the other waitresses - say. I thought she'd meant, Jack, my real boyfriend but turned to see Marcus, one of the regular customers - a man old enough to be my grandfather - who always seems to sit in my section of the cafe.

Marcus isn't a dirty old man - god knows I have to deal with all too many of those. Nor would I classify him as the perfect gentleman since he sometimes flirts ourageously with me. Instead, he falls somewhere in between the two.

I flirt right back, often giving as good as I get. It's all in good fun. Besides, while he's much older, he does take care of himself and is in better shape than some guys half his age.

I was surprised he wasn't married or at least seeing someone; but, one of the girls explained that he's a widower and that even after ten years he hadn't started seeing anyone. I think he must be a romantic and their marriage must have been something else.

Jack became upset when he walked into the cafe a few weeks ago and saw me flirting with the guy. Honestly, if either of us should be upset with the other, it should be me. First, he's been spending more and more time with the attractive female TA from one of the college courses he's taking. Also, Marcus is one of my best tippers and Jack's little temper tantrum had Marcus staying away from the diner a few days I worked.

I remember asking him if he was okay. He hadn't flirted and after his absence.. But he shrugged it off. Later, I called him a tease for having led me on. I saw the spark return to his eyes and he became his flirty/gentlemanly self once again.

Everything's pretty much back to routine.

I grabbed my order-pad although I know Marcus will undoubtedly make the same breakfast order he's made most every morning for the past three months.

I stop at his booth with my pen at the ready.

"So, what do you want today, Handsome?" I ask awaiting his order.

As expected, I gave her the same breakfast order I always did, with an orange juice and carafe of coffee to go along with it. I often wondered whether she expected me one day to order something else by the little smile that followed each of my requests. But nothing ever changed. Until today, and in this case it wasn't a change so much as it was in addition.

"Listen, I, um..." I started, the nervousness in my voice all too obvious. I couldn't make eye contact with the young beauty as I continued, " ...a good friend of mine, an artist, a local gal... She has a ... an exhibition down at the VFW Hall this week. It's nothing special, of course. Just an old lady painting pictures that no one will ever see, except for right here in town."

I chuckled a bit, knowing that the use of the word old more than applied to me as well, relative to the waitresses age. I peeked up for an instant, continuing, "Anyway ... I just thought that... You know, maybe... If you didn't have anything better to do... That you might, I don't know, be interested in..."

I managed to look up into her face finally as I finished, red faced, "Going with me...?"

I smiled as I checked off his usual order and was caught by surprised when instead of following his order by the regular flirtations, he became nervous. My eyes briefly widened in surprise when I realized that he was asking me out on a date.

What was I supposed to do? I liked the guy. He was one of my best tippers and a really nice guy and was fun to flirt with but he was fifty something and I wasn't even legal to drink.

I could tell that this was taking alot out of him to ask me to this art show. Janice had said he hadn't even dated anyone since his wife died. I didn't want to squash his hopes of ever having a relationship with a woman; but he was well beyond my age limit.

I smiled and winked. "I'll be right back with your breakfast. I need a little time before I answer your question though. I hope you don't mind. I'll have you an answer by the time you finish eating," I promised.

I couldn't just say 'no,' but neither did I know how I'd be able to let him down easy. Shortly after bringing Marcus his breakfast, I made a quick call to Jack in hopes that he might make an appearance to pick me up for a movie or some such. It would give me an excuse to say I couldn't accept his kind offer and Marcus wouldn't feel rejected.

"Hello?" I heard a female voice answer the phone.

"Sorry, wrong number. I meant to call Jack Shepherd," I hurriedly explained.

"Jack's here. He's in the shower. Can I ask who's calling?" I heard the voice say as I was preparing to hang up.

"If you're at his place and he asks you to get him a towel, they're in the dryer," I said before disconnecting. That son of a ...

I momentarily forgot about my other predicament as my personal life came crashing down around me. I took a few deep calming breaths as I silently cursed my boyfriend for the cheating bastard he was.

I looked around the room and caught sight of Marcus. He looked worried about me. I bet he wouldn't have treeted me like Jack had.

I brought Marcus his bill. "I'm sorry Marcus. While I'd be happy to accept your invitation, I just found out my boyfriend's been cheating on me and I doubt I'd prove to be good company. Thanks all the same," I said.

My very first thought was to tell her, "Wow that's ... that's horrible ... I can't imagine..."

I didn't honestly know what else to say. I had married my now deceased wife right out of high school. She'd been my first girlfriend, my only lover. What did I know about cheating boyfriends or girlfriends? I looked down to the empty space in front of me for a moment and said, "I understand. I wouldn't want to..."

Then my second thought hit me: if her boyfriend is cheating on her and she's this upset, that means she's available now, right? I felt my face explode in a fiery red blush at the thought, the horrific thought, of taking advantage of such a situation. That just wasn't me. But, it was true wasn't it? No, I told myself, don't even try. I looked up at her and said, "Well, maybe another day, when things are going better for you. The exhibition is on for a few days. Or... Maybe another time, another thing"

I didn't honestly know what to say. It had been hard enough for me too hand out the invitation to the cute young thing in the first place. I had no idea how to handle this. I looked up at her and smiled broadly telling her, "Well if I can't take you out, and then I'll just take the check."

I felt as though I should comfort her somehow. But, who was I to her? I was just the guy that came in twice a week and flirted with her and now, unbelievably, on the day she got the bad news, asked her out on a date. Asked an 18 year old girl, a young woman a third my age, out on a date on the day that her boyfriend cheated on her. How the hell was I going to offer comfort to her?

His response was telling. Marcus was blown away by the fact that Jack had cheated on me. In fact, the befuddled look that crossed his face as he processed what I'd said and tried to form an answer told me clearer than words that he'd never betrayed his wife in the manner that Jack had just done me.

His response was awkward and he seemed so painfully shy. Great. Jack hadn't just ruined my life but had also trashed this nice guy's day as well. Granted, I had been planning to use Jack to give me an excuse out of accepting Marcus' offer of a date; I had been attempting to make it so that circumstances caused me to be unable to accept rather than refuse.

Again, I had to admit - if only to myself - that circumstances rather than refusal had made me unable to take Marcus up on his offer of a date.

The main difference was in how I had been affected. Looking on as Marcus put up a brave face, I wondered if he'd be able to work up the courage to ask another woman out. It had taken him ten years to work through the loss he'd suffered at the death of his wife. How much longer would it be before he went out with another woman?

I decided then and there that I wouldn't let Jack ruin this day for me.

While I was on the rebound, I didn't think Marcus would take advantage of the situation. So, when he smiled and said, "Well if I can't take you out, and then I'll just take the check.";I responded by returning the smile, saying, "And who said you couldn't take me out?"

I grinned admitting, "I know. I said that I doubted I'd prove to be worthwhile company. If you still want..." I paused.

What was I doing? I had been looking for a nice way to let this guy down easy and now I was practically asking him to take me out.

"If you still want..." she said with a smile.

I couldn't help it. I grinned wide and conspicuously, saying quickly, "Oh yes. Please. I mean ... if you're sure."

As Kim confirmed her acceptance of my offer, I sat up taller with a happy, proud smile as if I were some teen age kid at the county fair getting a blue ribbon for his big fat pig. I pulled out a twenty and set it on the little tray with the check on it, then scooted out to stand before Kim. I spoke quickly, "Saturday, two o'clock. I'll meet you here ... drive together ... or, you can meet me there, doesn't matter. Both work. Either or."

I laughed, realizing I was on the verge of making a fool of myself. But I couldn't help it. I was going on a date -- okay, an exhibition viewing! -- with a beautiful young woman. My brain was screaming, YEEHAW!

"Saturday," I repeated, then -- unsure of how to end this and, to be honest, afraid she might change her mind -- simply walked off, repeating, "Saturday ... two o'clock."



When Saturday arrived, I was, as us older folk have long said, nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. We had decided to meet at the VFW Hall instead of riding together. I didn't know and certainly didn't ask whether it was because she didn't want to be seen getting into my a car with this old fart or because she needed it for a function or event or chore afterward. I knew that if she cared to tell me later she would.

When I saw Kim approaching the Hall, I couldn't help but look her up and down. She was so beautiful, so grown up, out of her waitressing uniform. When she was near enough, I told her with a wide, inviting smile, "Thank you for coming."

After some chit chat, we went inside where we almost immediately ran into my friend Carol, the artist whose work was being shown. She gave me a polite hug and kiss on the cheek, as she had every time we'd seen each other for more than twenty years. She looked to Kim with a happy expression and said without hesitation, "And Della! It's so nice to finally meet you. Your grandfather has told me so much about you over the years, and, Marcus, she's just as beautiful as you said she was."

My face was exploding in yet another red blush. I froze. I didn't know what to say. I was, from my point of view -- and my wishful thinking -- on a date with a girl being mistaken for my granddaughter who was actually a year older than Kim. What was I supposed to say? Did I laugh it off? Did I explain that Kim's my date ... my friend ... my acquaintance ... or just a waitress from down the street who wanted to see Carol's art?

In my wishful thinking, Kim was far more than just the girl who brought me pancakes and eggs four times a week. But ... who was she to me in Kim's mind? It turned out, I didn't have to explain anything ... as before my mind could formulate a response, Kim was speaking to Carol instead...