Waiting Room

I cannot abide a mint cruncher, one who cannot let the mint simply melt away. And that's what he was doing, the little puke, when I opened the door on his tanned face. "Hi, Mr. Keller? I'm here to take Steph out." I remembered that tone, so I let him in.

She had given me the old line, "Tell him I'm not ready." I don't know why women insist on doing that. Do they all talk to each other, do they all send notes? Is it telepathy, something deeper, something in the blood? They all seem to know to keep us waiting. Probably because they know we will. "Have a seat, she'll be a few minutes." He chuckled as if, yes, of course she would, that's Steph (that's my Steph?). He sat on the sofa and I sat in my chair.

"Can I get you anything? Water?"

"No, that's OK, I'm fine, thanks." He smiled at me with that anxious dopey smile I'd seen in all the movies. That smile was never one I wore myself. I never saw the big deal in meeting the parents. Or, I recognized the bigness of the deal, but I wasn't affected by it. I wasn't a burnout and I wasn't a bullshitter, and the parents got that right away. Now, though, on the other side. Well, I guess it's like the Old Men always tell you: One day you'll know.

 "So," I said after a moment of silence too many, "what are you studying?"

"Well," he said, "it's not like college so we all pretty much study the same thing. Just, you know, general high school... stuff." You'll have to try harder than that, son. "But, you know, um, Pre-Calc, uh, bio and strength training and AP Euro, you know—"

"No, I don't."

He blinked. "What?"

"You said, 'you know,' but I don't know. What's AP Euro?"

"Oh, um," he was (relieved? terrified?), "Euro is short for European history and AP means Advanced Placement. It's like a college prep course. There's a big test at the end of the year and if you get a good score a lot of colleges will credit that toward your degree."

"Well, that's something. So what's a good score?"

"Depends," he informed me. "Most schools accept a four or five but some schools accept a three."

"You're only graded out of five points?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "I guess something five is all you need." I felt a sudden surge that he was absolutely right, although absolutely right about what I had no idea.

"And you met Steph in one of these classes?"

"Ha ha." Was-he-laughing-at-her-I-swear-to-God-I'll-slit-his-fucking-throat. "No. I, uh..." He drew back into his memory, and for a moment I thought it was to alter it, clean it up, make it PG. But then I realized that, no, he just liked being there inside it. "I saw her at lunch. Or, I see her. Every day. We sat at opposite ends of the room, you know, everyone has their self-designated table and whatever. And I... I just thought she was..." He glanced up, saw my face, my eyebrows, my hint of smirk. "I just knew she was really great. Out of my league, ha ha. But one day she was the last one at her table and I walked up to her and said I'd seen her around and we found out our favorite teacher is actually both Mrs. M—or Mrs. McDonnell—only we have her for different periods, and I said do you want to go out sometime and she... ha ha, she actually hesitated, you know. More than I would have liked... But she said yes." He laughed for real now. "They love to keep us waiting, don't they?" I'd be lying if I said I didn't burst out laughing, too.

"One second!" The female calls down from the bathroom on the second floor, signifying that the male should begin perspiring.

"You have your license... Oh my god, I don't remember your name, I'm sorry."

"Ha, that's OK." He extended his hand. "I should have said it at the door, sorry, I was nervous. Paul."

Meh, could do better, but could do worse I suppose. "Paul," I said, shaking his hand, "nice to formally meet you."

"You as well, sir." Sir. I don't care how old it makes me sound, I like it and I always will like it.

The upstairs door opened, footsteps machine-gunned down the staircase. Was this my girl, my baby girl, in lipstick and appropriate heels, a beautiful summer dress, so clearly a woman? Was this my baby girl before me? Was this the absolute years?

She gave me that look. The Dad Oh My God What Are You Even Doing Right Now Look. It was all I could muster, a small "Have fun." She hugged me. "Home by midnight." She rolled her eyes and kissed me on the cheek and was out the door before I had the chance to fall over. Paul was there, standing up in front of the sofa, eyes bugged out, as if he couldn't really believe this was happening.

"Paul!" from outside. "You coming?!"

He walked to me, hand outstretched again, and I took it. He shook and he shook and he shook until I pulled free. I put the hand on his shoulder. I looked him in the eye. He looked back. And maybe, for a moment, we shared that telepathy that all the girls have.

Paul went out the front door to his car, Steph was already texting in the passenger's seat. He drove away, steadily (a gold sedan, something common, something practical and used). I closed the door, went back to my chair, and stared at the clock on the wall.