The Muse (8 page)

            “Food is one of the best comforts I can think of.  This is just what the doctor ordered.”

            They sat down at a booth that had padded, red seats which sparkled in the neon.  The table was made from stainless steel and red acrylic that matched the upholstery.  Track lighting was done in such a way that alternating rays of neon and white gave the place a wholesome, fun atmosphere.  The menus were drawn in garish colors designed to look like the screen of a drive-in movie.  A couple of film projectors mounted on the ceiling beamed images of Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello onto the walls.  Although nobody was really watching the movie, it was clear they were on a beach somewhere, and the plot involved surfing. 

            A waitress dressed in a starched white skirt, red blouse, and roller skates glided over to them with a notepad and a pencil in hand.  She was smiling at them, particularly at Gibson.  “Well, as I live and breathe,” she said.  “Gibson finally shows up here with a girl!  I didn’t think you had it in you.”

            “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Gibson said, winking at Faith as he said it. 

            The waitress looked over her shoulder and motioned to the cook.  “Hey Tony!  Check this out!  Gibson finally decided to bring a date with him.”

            The short-order cook was a little greasy guy in a white paper hat who had an open face and an honest smile.  “Hey Gibson!” he said, pleased to see his friend.  “It's about time!  This is a momentous occasion.  Dinner is on me!  I insist!”

            Gibson smiled sheepishly, not used to all of the attention.  Faith touched his hand reassuringly, amused at everyone's reaction.  “I take it you come here alone quite a bit.”

            Gibson laughed.  “Is it that obvious?”

            “I'm Joanie,” the waitress said, extending a hand to Faith.  “Gibson, here, is a regular.  He can tell you all of the good things on the menu.  I think he's tried everything at least twice.”

            “So what's good?” Faith asked, directing her attention across the table.  “Order for me.”

            Gibson didn't even look at the menu.  “Ok, Joanie.  Give us two cheeseburgers, two orders of fries, and two chocolate milkshakes, extra thick.  Go heavy on the whipped cream.”

            “You got it,” Joanie said, skating away without bothering to write any of it down.  “Anything else I can get for you guys?”

            “Nope, we’re good,” he said as she walked away.  He breathed a sigh of relief.  Joanie hadn’t mentioned anything about Faith’s bruise.  He would have to tip her well the next time he was here. 

            “This is some place,” Faith remarked.  “I like it.”

            “It's an honest place,” Gibson said.  “No pretension.  Nothing fancy.  Just a place to feel good.”

            “I like the no pretension part,” Faith said.  “This is the kind of life I’ve been looking for.”

            “Well, if you’ve wanted to eat diner food all your life all you had to do was say so.  I could have pointed you in the right direction.”

            “Oh hush,” she said.  “You know what I meant.”

            “I’m just teasing,” Gibson said. 

            “I feel better just being here with you.”

            Gibson smiled.  “Me too.”

            “You're so different than I thought you were,” Faith said.  Her face was bathed in neon from the 'Open' sign in the window.  Her bruise was scarcely noticeable. 

            “I've been thinking about why that is,” Gibson said.  “I have a theory on that.  I think I've been focused on myself for so long that I've forgotten what it's like to focus on someone else for a change.  You gave me something new to focus on, and it's brought out a whole new side of me.”

            “So do you really like me or am I just a distraction?” Faith asked, playfully.

            “Can't both be true?” Gibson asked with a wink.  Faith slapped his hand. 

            “I'm just kidding,” he said.  “I really like you.  A lot more than I imagined I could have.”

            “I understand that feeling,” Faith said.  “You've really surprised me.”

            “Maybe I can do that again,” Gibson said, pulling a pencil out of his pocket.  “Hold still for a second.”  Without explaining himself, he began to draw on the paper placemat sitting in front of him.  Every now and then he would look up to study something about Faith only to return seconds later to his project.  In the background The Platters were singing in harmony. 

            In a few minutes, he was ready to show her what he had done.  He turned the placemat around and showed Faith a new drawing of her.  This time there were no colors, no brush strokes, just a lot of details drawn with a pencil.  Yet, it captured her just as perfectly as the painting had done.  Faith giggled like a school girl.  “You're so good!” she said.  “How are you able to do that?”

            “Lots of practice sketching folks in The Square.  I’ve probably done this hundreds of times.  Yet, I’ve never been so enthusiastic about my art.  You inspire me.”

            “No one has ever told me that before,” Faith said, clasping her hands in front of her and leaning across the table so she didn’t have to speak so loudly.  “Do you really mean that?”

            “You saw that painting I did of you in one night.  If that doesn’t indicate inspiration I don’t know what does.”

            Joanie chose that moment to bring their food.  She took a look at the drawing and whistled.  “He's a master,” she said.  “Very talented.  He nailed it!”

            Gibson laughed.  “I'll pay you later for all the promotion you're giving me.”

            “Don't mention it,” she said.  “I'm just glad to see the other half of your booth filled for a change.  You guys enjoy it.” 

            Gibson and Faith attacked their food.  Both of them were starving.  The cheeseburgers were good and greasy.  The fries were crisp and hot.  The shakes were so thick they had to use a spoon to drink them.  “This is heaven,” Faith said around a mouthful of burger. 

            “Agreed,” Gibson said.  “Now, do you see what I love about this place?”

            Faith nodded, her mouth too full to reply. 

            The Platters stopped singing, only to be replaced by The Five Satins.  “In the Still of the Night,” was one of their big hits and one of Gibson's favorites.  For the first time in a long time, he felt alive.  He felt good, and he didn't want it to end.

            “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand. 

            Faith looked at him with confusion. “Where are we going?”

            “Just come on,” Gibson said, offering his hand again. 

            Faith took his hand and slid out of the booth.  He pulled her close to him and began to dance to the song playing on the jukebox.  She instinctively laid her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him.  “This is perfect,” she whispered.

            The song wasn't nearly long enough.  When it was over, neither of them wanted to let go.  Joanie and Tony were watching them from behind the counter.  Tony slipped his arm around Joanie's waist, feeling a bit romantic himself. 

            Gibson and Faith went back to their booth, feeling something neither of them had ever felt before.  Tony whispered something into Joanie's ear before smacking her playfully on the butt, sending her on her way.  She giggled and blushed before disappearing into the back for a second.  When she returned, she had a huge hunk of chocolate cake prepared for them. 

            “Oh, no,” Gibson said, laughing.

            “It's on the house,” Joanie said. 

            “I should have worn my pants with the elastic in the waist,” Gibson said.  Faith began laughing uncontrollably at that. 

            They spent the rest of their dinner like that, laughing, staring into each other's eyes, wondering how they had found each other and questioning just what it was that they had discovered. 

            When they left the diner, they left arm in arm.  The night was fair, the air was brisk, and there was a crispness to the night that signaled the approaching end of summer. 

            “Thank you so much for tonight,” Faith said.  “You have been truly amazing.”

            Gibson stared at her and sang gently, “
And then I tell her, as I turn out the light,
I say, 'My darling, you were wonderful tonight.'

            “That’s one of my favorite songs,” she said.  Her lower lip trembled, and she seemed on the verge of tears again.  Gibson didn't give her time to cry.  Instead, he pulled her close and kissed her beneath the moonlight.  She melted in his arms like soft wax on a hot day, and he didn't want to let her go.

            They stood there like that for a while, embracing beneath moonlight, drawing strength from each other, not wanting the moment to end.     

            Come on,” he said at last.  “Let's go home.”

            The world was all fireworks and angelic choirs until they reached the apartment.  Gibson felt like a real man.  He had a real woman on his arm who seemed to be totally focused on him.  It had been a long time since he had felt this way. 

            The feeling was ruined once they got back home.  Calvin was sitting on the front steps, smiling smugly at her.  Gibson tensed, and Faith clutched his arm. 

            “What are you doing here?” Faith asked.  “Haven't you caused enough trouble for one night?”

            Calvin laughed.  He was handsome in a traditional way.  Blonde hair, broad shoulders, square jaw, unnaturally white teeth, and blue eyes.  He looked like he might have been cloned from an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog.  He was so saccharine it was nearly sickening.  He knew as much and seemed to thrive on his faux wholesomeness.   

            “I think you should go bother someone else,” Gibson said.  “We're not looking for any trouble.  The fact that you're here, however, obviously means that you are.”

            “And just who are you?” Calvin sneered.  “I don't remember calling for a valet, and I didn't think this building had a doorman.”

            “I'm the guy who is about the call the police and tell them you're the one responsible for that bruise on her cheek.”

            “I'm just a friend,” Calvin said, holding his hands up in mock horror.  “I would never lay a hand on this beautiful girl.  I'm certainly not the one who took her out on a date tonight.  A bruise like that is the kind that might come from a domestic dispute following just such an evening.  You know, the kind that might result from a jealous boyfriend finding out his girl has been cheating on him?”

            “Faith told me what happened,” Gibson protested.  “She told me what you did to her.  You disgust me!”   

            “She has been known to bend the truth,” Calvin said.  “Don’t believe anything she tells you.  It’s all fabrication.” 

            “I didn't lie about anything, you creep!” Faith shouted. 

            “Let me handle this,” Gibson said, stepping in front of her to confront Calvin face to face. 

            Calvin didn't seem threatened.  In fact, he seemed cool, aloof.  “I think you both should know that when a domestic violence complaint is placed to the police the male is usually the one to get hauled down to the station.  It’s a statistical fact.”

            “Is that meant to be a threat?” Gibson asked, standing his ground.

            “Just a word to the wise,” Calvin said.  “I'm in law school, you know?  Fascinating the kinds of things I've picked up there so far.  Made a lot of friends too.  Cop friends.  Friends who might investigate something based on my word alone.”

            “What do you want?” Faith asked, trading in a bit of her fear for frustration. 

            “Just to talk.  Nothing more.  Our conversation was cut a bit short.”

            “I don't have anything to say to you.  You're lucky that I don't report you.”