Dream Date

Zandy paused a moment before entering the lobby. She squeezed her eyes shut and fought back her fight or flight instincts, which were definitely leaning toward flight. "Deep breaths, deep, deep breaths," she told herself as she took a step forward to descend the small staircase leading to the lobby. To her right, she saw men and women dressed in suits and shiny shoes, that were likely fresh hours before but were now wilting under the press of business travel. Shifting from foot to foot,to ease their aching feet they were lined up to check into the hotel. To her left, she could see the beginning of happy hour brewing in the lobby bar area. Men and women eager to let alcohol take away the monotony of the day. They were leaning in to close to one another, and touching in provocative, but not yet inappropriate ways. Taking in the scene, Zandy wasn't sure why she told "Mr. too good to be true" she would meet him there. Initially, it seemed like a nice public place for a casual introduction. If things went well, they might move to one of the hotel's restaurants for dinner. If things went really well…

Staring at the crowd swelling in the bar, she now saw this location as the site of her potential public humiliation. "Good grief Zandy, "she muttered to herself. "Way to think things through." She stiffened her spine and approached an empty seat. They bar was constructed in a circular fashion, currently en vogue in downtown Chicago establishments. Colorful liquor bottles captured and transported light beams in a 180-degree pattern. Simultaneously, three or four bartenders worked the area in tandem like a well-choreographed circus act.

A youthful-looking young man with blond hair swooped to the side covering his left eye, sporting a name tag that said "Chip," approached her with a wide toothy grin. "What can I get you?" he asked.

"How about a vodka gimlet, "she replied.

"You got it," Chip spun in a circle and performed his version of a James Brown slide as he called out her drink order to no one in particular. Zandy watched him as he made a show of mixing her drink. She glanced at her watch. Five minutes. "Mr. too good to be true" was five minutes late. Either that, or he walked in and saw her and decided to bail. "Don't be silly, "she shook off the thought. Her online profile picture was an accurate depiction of her current self. 5 feet six inches tall. Kinky-coily hair shaped in a stylish bob. Smooth honey brown colored skin, showing no signs of wear and tear. She could be 30 years old or 40 years old; who knew? She was proof of the idiom "black don't crack." At 38 years of age, she had no need to play the "bait and switch" game that she knew many women relied on. Post a picture from your college days, and then show up and pray he doesn't notice.

"Excuse me," a deep baritone voice interrupted her reverie. "Is this seat taken?"

Zandy looked up to see a silver-haired gentleman staring at her inquisitively. He was not who she was expecting, but he was certainly a delight. His hair said middle-aged banker, but his smooth olive skin and sparkling green eyes said Mediterranean play-boy. She smiled at him. "Not yet it isn't," she said.

"Are you expecting someone?" he inquired.

"Yes, someone who is apparently running late."

"Ah, I see. Well. How about I sit here and keep you company until your date shows up?"

"I guess that would be all right." Zandy felt a smile crease the corners of her mouth.

"My name is Zander." he extended his hand in greeting.

"No way!" she said in surprise. "My name is Zandy."

He threw his head back and let out a deep laugh. "Zandy?"

"Well, Zandria, but no one calls me that except Big Mama."

"Big Mama?"

"Grandmother. My mother's mother.

"Ah, I see. Did she name you?"

"As a matter of fact, she did. She worked for a Greek family, and she loved the culture. When I was born, my fists were balled up like a fighter. She said the name Zandria was perfect for me because I was clearly going to be a fighter...or something like that."

"The name is derived from Alexander and means defender of humanity. So, she was in the ballpark."

"Is that what your name means?"

"Yes."

"And are you? A defender of humanity?"

Well, that depends on how you view those in the legal profession." he winked at her and lifted his gaze to Chip, who was placing Zandy's vodka gimlet in front of her.

He gave Zander the same broad smile he used earlier and asked. "Can I get you something, sir?"

"Give me just one more moment," Zander cooly dismissed him.

"Are you not having a drink?" Zandy asked him.

"Well, that depends," he replied.

"On what?"

"On how long you are going to wait for this gentleman who is now...How many minutes late?

Zandy looked at her phone. "Ten minutes."

"So, if he doesn't come. Or, if you get tired of waiting, I would like to take you to a quiet corner, exchange that vodka for a nice glass of Merlot, and see where the evening takes us."

Zandy could feel herself blushing, but she was sure her darker complexion didn't give her away. "I'm not sure how long I am supposed to wait. Are there rules for that kind of thing?"

"Is this person an acquaintance or a work colleague?"

She threw back her head and laughed. "No. A blind date, actually."

"Ah, I see. Has he called or texted you to say he would be late?"

"No, I haven't heard anything from him yet."

"Well, it's your call, but I would certainly never leave a beautiful woman waiting for me alone in a bar." He raised both of his eyebrows at her and reached in front of her, and pushed her vodka gimlet aside. "Young man," he called out to get Chip's attention.

"Yes, sir," Chip moonwalked over to him."

"The young lady and I are going to sit at the table by the window over there. Can you bring us two glasses of Merlot?"

"Certainly." Chip smiled at Zandy as if to get her approval. She smiled.

"Can you start a tab and add this lovely lady's drink to it?" Zander asked.

"You betcha." Sensing no objection from Zandy, Chip scooped up her drink and walked away.

Zander turned to her and said, "Shall we?"

***

Zandria peered out of the window of her Michigan Avenue apartment at the choppy Chicago River. The vibrant St. Patrick's Day green die had long faded away, and in its wake, the murky brownish-green waves churned in the late fall breeze. She was thinking about that night five years ago. How Zander had appeared out of nowhere and upended her life. It reminded her of the movie "Sliding Doors." The movie explored the concept of all our our lives being the result of random turns, missed opportunities, and chance encounters. What if you were 30 seconds late and missed your train to the airport and your job interview? What if you just made it through the elevator door as it was closing and had a few minutes alone with your future boss? What if your blind date was ten minutes late and you walked off with another man? What if you had waited one more minute?

Zandria heard the muffled sound of her infant son crying through the baby monitor, the exact moment she saw Zander walk in the door. The frown on his face spurred her into motion.

"He just woke up." she offered as she rushed from the room.

"Right," he said, in a tone that conveyed both sarcasm and annoyance.

"I'm serious, I think he can sense your presence," she called over her shoulder. "How was your day?"

"The usual," Zander said, setting his briefcase down and loosening his tie. "Another day, another dollar. Isn't that what Big Mama used to say?"

"Among other things, yes." Zandria entered the living room carrying her son.

"Do you want to hold him?"

"No, he looks good in your arms." He smiled at her as he sank down onto the sofa.

Zandria walked past him and into the kitchen. "I'll start dinner, "she said. "Would you like something to nosh, or a drink?"

"How about a nice glass of Merlot?" he suggested.

"Yes, of course," she said. "Why not?"