WRITE WHAT YOU SEE OR HEAR

Writers are told to write what they know.  Sometimes that just means write what you see or hear.  This story was based on an exchange I overheard at the pub one night.

PLAYING TRIVIA

            Meredith sat next to her husband at the local pub.  Their hands were on keyboards while they played a game of trivia that was up on the television screen.  As they played, another couple entered and came to the next table.  The man was over six feet tall and looked solid.  The woman only stood about five feet tall.  She was slight and nervous.  Meredith watched as he held her chair.  They sat facing each other.

            The server pounced on them immediately, brandishing menus and coasters, asking what they wanted to drink.  The woman ordered a bottle of beer, and he ordered diet pop.  Waiting for their drinks, they pored over their menus.

            “You can order anything you’d like,” he told her with a smile.

            As they dined, they chatted, and Meredith listened.  He was a trucker.  She worked in an office.  He had never been married.  She had been divorced for years and had raised her children alone.  She had a dog.  He was allergic to dogs.

            “The dog is a guard dog.  I have him to keep my ex away from me and my house.  I won’t be abused again, by anybody,” she said, as she lifted her beer with one hand to take a drink.

            “When I’m there, you won’t need the dog.  I’ll make sure your ex never comes near you,” he said, as he placed his hand over hers on the tabletop.  She pulled her hand away.

            After dinner, he ordered coffee and she ordered another beer.  They kept chatting, seeking absolute truth on a first date, Meredith thought.  The woman started to lead the conversation, talking about her house instead of herself.

            “I’m good at repairs,” the man said.  “I can fix most things around the house.”  Again he covered her hand with his and again she pulled away.

            He ordered another coffee and she another beer.

            “You know,” she said, “one dinner isn’t going to get you into my bed.  You’re not taking me for a ride tonight.”

            “Of course not,” he said unperturbed.  “We can have several dinners first,” he reassured her, as he placed his hand over hers again.

            This time she looked at him searchingly before she slowly pulled her hand away again.  He paid their bill and Meredith watched them leave.

            “Is he getting any tonight?” Meredith asked her husband.

            “You tell me,” he said.  “I don’t know how women think.”

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By Lisa A. Hatton