Firefly

The ambiance is what is now expected after covid: quiet, serene, with a slight edge— a need to just be able to converse with someone.

I walk with the hostess to my table, past a family of 4 just leaving. They remind me of my family when we were younger. I smile at the little girl waving at me and the hostess hands me the menu as I sit down. I can’t help but think back... I’ve always been the weird child of 3. My other siblings are thought of as boisterous, sunny, always a smile on their face. Me? I like to people watch. Used to unnerve my parents at first, until they realized I’m what you call an introvert— I’d rather save my energy for household pets and a few close friends, thank you.

It must seem funny that I would decide on going out, let alone out on random dates (remember wanting to observe? Be an introvert?). I still would rather just interact with a few close friends, but even introverts can want companionship after being locked down to a one bedroom apartment for so long. I’m starting to understand the roaring 20s and their parties; the older crowd had a plague a few years prior to 1920, didn’t they?

A menu was passed to me by a gentleman. Tall, dark, handsome. The type that brings back a throng of enamoured girls to the establishment in hopes of catching his eye. He knows it, too. He looks like a whiskey person to me. Interesting, but I’m more into wine people.

Speaking of, 10 past 6. My date is late and without any message, but things do happen. Poor guy’s probably stuck in traffic, but a text would be nice...

I decided to look around and try to match people’s personalities with their drinks. Is this pseudoscience? Probably. But it’s fun, and grandpa taught me the game.

I look over at a lady with her friends- must be girls night? I see a bottle of Chardonnay. Down-to-earth, kind, popular. It seems to fit the bill. While the girls talk, there’s an air of calm around them— they’re comfortable in their skin and genuinely enjoy their friends company. Reminds me of my extroverted friend, who loves bringing me out of my comfort level, to go to one of her house party’s. I suppose we’re overdo for one of them.

I look over to the table with the 2 men talking quietly, but look to be in a world of their own. Malbec. These wine drinkers I can spend all my time talking with. Soulful, intuitive, introverted. The type of person you would see at a coffee shop writing songs or listening to jazz.

I find myself smiling. I hope no one thinks I’m crazy— the people-watcher who smiles at random tables? That would be mortifying.

From the corner of my eye, I notice the waiter staring at me. Remember tall, dark, and aware that he’s handsome? Did he see me? Yes, it would appear so. My embarrassment is now complete.

“Hello, miss? Would you like to order something to drink, while you wait?”

I think for a moment— is it not customary to wait for your dates arrival? It’s also customary to be on time or text, too.

“Merlot, please. 6 oz.”

I smile at him as he takes the drink menu for the other table.

“Merlot? You seem the type.”

He smiles at me and walks away, but I’m too focused on what he said to look away. The type? Does he also share my past time hobby of typecasting personalities to their drinks?

I shake my head of those thoughts. What does it matter? He’s being friendly in order to get large tip— it’s his job. Relax and stop acting like a schoolgirl.

On to the date who is 25 minutes late, without any text. I wonder what type of wine drinker he is? At first, from my friends description, he sounded like a Sauvignon Blanc type— sophisticated, intelligent, long conversations. Now? Maybe a small-batch craft beer drinker. Intelligent, but a bit flighty.

Am I annoyed? Possibly. Will he probably still order a Sauvignon Blanc? Probably.

Tall and dark comes back with my Merlot and I’m about to thank him when—“So, I’m guessing my Merlot drinker is still waiting on her date? What’s your name?”

I blurt out my name without meaning to, in my confusion. Why is he curious about my date?

“It’s a nice name, but you remind me of a firefly.”

A firefly? A short-lasting insect? Why is he laughing? Oh. I said that aloud.

“No. Easygoing, tries things out of her comfort zone, adventurous. There’s a spark in you, firefly.”

He smiles as he walks away and I realize I don’t know the overly flirty male’s name. Why should I? He’d rather call me after an insect then my name— the nerve. Half-past 6. I decided to try and message the guy— he may actually be truly tied up with something and I’m busy making eyes at the waiter.

After finding his name and sending a quick message, I go back to quietly scanning the other patrons. I look and see a couple of rosé glasses and notice 2 rather artistic people. Rosé. I find, rosé people are drinkers that colour out of the lines. They don’t want to see the world in red or white. They live in the grey zone... or pink? I smile and think of my mom. Boxed rosé on the kitchen counter. A story and a quick laugh. She always pushed the envelope and taught us to always look for a third option of an ‘either-or’ problem.

Just don’t tell them what they like is “popular”. They’re contrarians like that.

My eyes drift towards the table adjacent to the rosé table. Cabernet Sauvignon. Bold, knows what they want, a quiet leader. The blonde is drinking a cabsav. From the looks of her, she just came from corporate. Wait. What’s he drinking? A glass of ...water? Or is it vodka? I looked at him and noticed pronounced Russian features. Am I being presumptuous to think it’s vodka? Either way, strange mix of people.

It’s now quarter-to-7. Is this my first time being stood up? At first I’m insulted. Who wouldn’t be? Was I the last choice before something better came along? Did he hear I’m a private person who’d rather go to a bar than a club and had second-thoughts?

Well, his loss. I maybe an introvert, but I’m witty, funny, and a good catch... according to the people who set us up. Still. I may as well order food— I’m hungry and if I have to deal with the flirty waiter with weird nicknames for strangers, than I better not be hangry.

I scan for him and meet his eyes. He was staring at me again. How do I not notice him when I’ve been quietly look at people, myself? It’s annoying. Especially when he smirks like that. I narrow my eyes and just about to ask what is so amus-

“Some people just don’t know what they’re missing, do they, firefly?”

“First of all, you haven’t even told me your name...and secondly, what is that supposed to mean?”

He looked surprised “Marc. I normally tell people my name when I first meet them. My apologies, you were... distracting.” He smiled to himself and passed me the menu “I’m assuming you’re hungry?”

My hand grabbed the menu and I stared at him, “you still didn’t explain your meaning”. I gave him an eyebrow raise for good measure.

“Your date. Whether or not it’s traffic- it’s only polite to message your date if you’re going to be late, right?”

I stared at him, trying to figure him out. He has the gaggle of girls at another table currently glaring at me for taking his attention and he’s ignoring them to flirt with me. Does he think I’m rich? The standard 20% tip applies here too, no matter how cute you are, buddy.

“I suppose? It would be my first time meeting him anyways. It’s not that big of a deal. Just someone new to meet.”

His eyes hold my for a moment, “interesting. I’ll be back for your order.”

I’m a bit nonplussed at this scenario, but try to ignore it. Maybe I’ll pull out a book and leave the other customers to their privacy? Nah. If I open a book, they’d be kicking me out at closing.

I look and see a 3 page menu. Didn’t they cut back options since covid? It’s supposed to only be popular items now. They can’t all be popular... I look down at the menu and think what would pair well with Merlot. My grandpa always made the best Chicken Alfredo. Then it hits me. Merlot tastes great with chicken. Chicken and grilled vegetables, it is.

I startle as I feel a buzz coming from my jacket and realize it’s my phone. Maybe my date finally deigned to respond? I look at it and notice my friend who set my so-called date and I up and read:

“Hey! How’s your date going? He’s cute, right??? :)”

Ah. She doesn’t know. Well, time to break the news that her friend sucks. I type a reply and then feel a slight hand on my shoulder. Startled, I look up to meet the slowly recognizable brown eyes of my waiter- Marc- and that smirk.

“Do you know what you want?”

I look at him and notice my face feeling warm. Please don’t tell me I’m blushing front of that blasted flirt. “Excuse me?”

He smiles fully now and points at the menu “Your meal. Do you know what you want?”

I let him know my choice and Marc takes the menu and explains that a salad and breadsticks will be on the house for me. I must look how confused I feel. The meals didn’t have any complementary salads, did they? I wasn’t paying attention to that part of the menu. He throws a smirk over his shoulder as he walks away and I’m not sure if I want to wipe the smirk off of him or not. Maybe I’m just hungry? I take a sip of my wine and slightly calm down. This wine has a cherry undertone with peach. It’s enjoyable and I can see finishing this glass quickly.

I should’ve ordered a second glass. Darn. Maybe when he comes back? I’ll make— I feel my phone buzz again but decide on ignoring it for the moment. I feel the goosebumps on my arms and look up. I feel myself smile when I see Marc coming back with the breadsticks and salad.. and wine glass?

I look at him in question and he gave me a rueful smile, “you seemed to enjoy the merlot. I took the liberty of bringing you another glass while you wait.” I look at him and back to my 2 glasses of wine. “I guess I can’t complain” I poke the almost finished glass and smile at him “Thank you. You’re turning into my favourite person today”.

He lightly grabbed the now-empty glass from my hands and turned to go to a table flagging him over.

“I’ll take that complement”.

I must be imagining things. Surely I didn’t see him blush? Well... now I know I need to put the wine down for the moment. I look to a loud noise and see a large group of 5 guys who are quite boisterous. They’re new and if my grandpa were here, I’d bet him a free drink that they’d all pick a Keith. Grandpa would sometimes humor me and choose something out of the box, like in this case, a chocolate milk. I look over again and notice one guy point out a woman and move his hands in the shape of an hour glass. I roll my eyes. Surely not.

I take a bit of my salad and realize there’s goat cheese and spiced almonds. This can’t be a house salad? Unless the restaurant is trying to bribe people to returning with mouth-watering freebies? Cause I’m going to be a regular if that’s the case.

I turn to look back to look at the table I previously was curious about when a waiter brought them their drink. A light beer, but since it’s beer, no label... just a pitcher. So, I can’t be sure. Darn. Grandpa would call this a draw.

I notice an another buzz come from my jacket and curiously stare at my phone. 3 messages from my friend. I look and snicker to myself. If the texts are true, someone is getting an earful for ditching our date. Good.

I think back to Marc and realize it’s been a while since he and my food have come by and I finished my food and almost done my wine. Maybe a little bit of time between glasses is a good idea? An Uber call would have to happen otherwise.

Since my date is ruined, maybe I should leave early. As interesting as Marc is, I doubt he was seriously flirting. I look around, expecting familiar brown eyes, and come empty handed. Since he can’t be found, I’ll distract myself until he reappears. I grab my purse and pull out my book, a mystery novel by King ~It’s an amazing story about retired cop trying to take down a serial killer. Not everyone’s cup of tea, but I like it. He’s currently found out that the car used to kill all those people was really from this older, middle aged, rich woman. The cops don’t like her and her snobby behaviour. They’re currently grilling her~ I hear a buzz to my left. My phone. 8:30pm?? Did they forget my order? Maybe I should just ask for my food to go?

I look for some familiar brown eyes and still can’t find him. I smile sardonically at myself. Ditched by 2 guys in less than 2 hours apart. Not exactly a world record I want to make public. I flag over a passing waitress and ask if she could bring my waiter, Marc, over. Her surprised look has made me curious to an unfortunate understanding the more she explained herself. He just clocked off and probably forgot to ring me up. Not going to lie, that one stung. The waitress tells me she’ll take care of it and I ask her about the food I already ordered. Thankfully she’s gone to find out what happened, so I turn back to my book to try and distract myself ~the women the police are questioning denies all possibility of her involvement in the murder and is firm on her belief that she locked the door.~

I hear the waitress walk up to my table and smile. She looks a little excited and I wonder what’s up. Maybe my food is done and I’m her last customer before she clocks out, too? Better get the check from her before she leaves.

“Your meal is paid for by your date and he’s waiting for you at another table. If it’s alright with you I’ll help you over?”

She looks to me and I feel myself dumbly nod my affirmative. Didn’t he bail? Was I too quick on the draw when I thought that “he sucks”? A million questions go through my head as I follow the waitress into a more secluded part of the restaurant. How did my date get this area? It’s only reserved for a large party and the few smaller tables usually had a waiting list.

I come near a table with a glass of whiskey and stare at brown eyes. The only thing is I recognize these brown eyes.

“I took a gamble, firefly. So, what do you say? Do you also want to take a gamble and join me for dinner?”

I look at him feeling confused, giddy, and feeling like a coatrack with all my stuff on me. I notice something, though. Marc is holding his breath. Damn.

“You know what, Marc? Why not? I did say you were my favourite person tonight.”