The Promise of Tomorrow

Janelle glanced at her phone for the third time to make sure she found the right restaurant. The location was odd- it was nestled among single family homes in a neighborhood full of overgrown oak trees. As she walked up to the patio, she saw the man she presumed was her date. He told her he would be wearing a dark sweater and glasses. Her friend who knew him from work told her he was tall. He was also the only person sitting alone at a table. As she approached, he looked up from his phone and put it in his pocket.

“Tom?” She smiled at him and adjusted her purse on her shoulder.

“Janelle”, he responded warmly and stood to pull out her chair for her.

“This place is cute,” she told him as she sat down. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s one of my favorite restaurants. The food is fantastic.”

Janelle noticed a single glass of merlot at her setting. She lifted an eyebrow slightly and looked at Tom for an explanation.

“Compliments of the chef,” he shrugged. “Apparently it’s from a particularly expensive bottle.”

Instead of reaching for the glass, Janelle leaned back in her chair a bit. “That’s nice.” She looked at him, smirking somewhat at the irony. “I don’t drink.”

“Neither do I.” He leaned in conspiratorially and moved the glass to the side of the table. “What would you like to eat?”

“What would you recommend?”

“It depends. How hungry are you?”

“Not terribly.”

“Try the ceviche.”

Conversation flowed freely between them, helped along by their respective stories of mutual friends. Their food arrived quickly, to Janelle’s delight. After several bites, she placed her fork down and rested her chin on her fists. Tom sensed a pause in the rhythm of their meal and set his fork down as well.

“I hope you don’t think I’m rude for saying this, but I probably won’t ask what you do for a living.”

Tom wiped his brow in mock relief. “Great, then I won’t have to tell you about my career as an accordionist.”

“Your what?” She laughed, and took a sip of water. “I walked into that one, didn’t I?”

“I’m sure you have a perfectly valid reason to refuse to learn about the most important details of my life.” He returned with a straight face.

“I just think there are more interesting ways to get to know someone!” Her false exasperation dissolved into laughter.

In a more serious tone, he acquiesced. “I get it, first dates can be predictable. ‘What do you do?’ ‘Where did you grow up?’” His grin grew wider. “But you know, that’s how you start to get to know someone. The basics.”

“But it doesn’t have to be that way!”

“Sure. So my next move is ask the right question. Something personal, but not invasive. Meaningful, but not corny. Not to mention one you’ve never heard before.”

She contemplated him for a moment. It is what she asked for, after all. “That sounds about right.” She said quietly.

He regarded her as he picked up his fork again. “Tell me about the last time you lied to someone.”

That was unexpected. She freezes, considering whether or not he hoped to hear a confession, or if he expected a response of the joking variety. She decided on the latter and smiled sweetly at him.

“When I told you I wasn’t very hungry.”

Without responding, he pushed a few forkfuls of the appetizer on her plate. “There. Now tell me what you were thinking about saying.”

“Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “As long as you do the same.”

“You got it.”

She took in a deep breath and collected her thoughts. “A couple years ago, I took care of a patient in hospice with severe dementia. He was ninety-six, and his wife had passed away two years prior. He was visited often by his children and some of his grandkids, but he always noticed the absence of his wife. He would ask us why she was late, if she was stuck in traffic, if we could call her to make sure that she was okay. Every time we told him that she would not be coming, he demanded to know why. We told him the reason why only once.”

Janelle noticed that his attention was fully on her, his expression deliberately unreadable. Looking away, she continued “He screamed for her the entire night. It was horrible. His room became quiet after his vocal cords were too damaged to continue. The next day, he asked about her again, as if nothing had happened. To him, nothing had. I told him that she would visit him tomorrow. He was satisfied with this, the promise of tomorrow. Every day he would ask, and every day we told him the same thing. He passed after spending ten days in hospice with us, and it haunts me that he died believing that all he had to do was wait one more day to see her.”

Tom was still. Without thinking, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it softly. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“Your turn.” She responded meekly.

She watched his eyes grow wide, directed at something behind her. As she turned in her seat, a glass of wine fell into her lap from above, bouncing off the material of her dress and splashing the liquid over her front.

“Ma’am! I am so sorry!” A frantic waitress gave her a cloth to dab on her clothing while her manager rushed to the table.

“It’s fine, accidents happen!” Janelle accepted the cloth and pressed it to her dress, knowing that it was definitely ruined. The manager assessed the situation grimly.

“Our sincerest apologies, miss. Your bill is on the house tonight.”

“Thank you.” She regards Tom with a disappointed look on her face. “I guess we’ll call it a night then.”

“Not if you don’t want to.” He placed a few bills on the table and stood to take her hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and I’ll tell you anything you like.”