First Dates

A sliver of the setting sun blinded Tina as the door of the restaurant opened. A man walked in, streaked in blood.

“Tina?”

“Tina?”

He walked up to the closest table, questioned everyone there and then zigzagged throughout the room stopping regardless of how many people were in the party. Tina considered leaving. Just picking up her purse, walking to that door, and saying she wasn’t herself if he got between her and the door. Then she remembered the promise she made to her sister: actual effort in dating, whole dates, not judging each date before the date actually begins.

She raised her hand in a wave, locked eyes with him, and smiled.

“Oh Tina! I thought I missed you,” he said at a volume that sounded like he was addressing the whole restaurant. At least he was walking toward her and was no longer questioning every guests’ identity.

He slumped into the second chair and said, “So what looks good?”

Now closer, she noticed that there were more streaks on his clothing. He picked up the skinny menu and was absorbed by the words on the pages. She watched his eyes as they followed each line, at points he would mouth the word he was on.

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He said.

Unsure of the best way to draw someone’s attention to potential blood loss, she mimicked the stains of his clothing across her own clothing with her hand.

“Oh! Don’t worry, it’s not my blood.”

“Here is the Australian shiraz you ordered,” the server set a wineglass in front of them, “and, ohmygoshareyouokay?”

His lips spread into a smile, which did not rearrange any of his other features. Tina couldn’t tell if he was smiling at the server’s concern or if he was used to placating people.

“We don’t want this!” He grabbed the glass and dumped its contents in the planter next to their table. “We’ll take a bottle of any West Coast merlot.”

“I asked them for that!” Tina said, “and a bottle isn’t necessary.”

“Well, this is not going well,” he said to the server. “She doesn’t want to stick around long enough to split a bottle.”

“You never asked.”

“You’re going to love it,” he said. “My partner introduced me to them.”

“Partner?”

“We used to share a bottle and get high after shift,” he said.

“But you don’t anymore?”

“God, I miss that,” he said.

“Did they go somewhere?”

The server drifted away from them and began checking on the other customers of their section. Tina wasn’t sure if they were getting the bottle or avoiding the awkward date happening at her table. With the server gone, she couldn’t help but stare at his shirt.

“You never said where that came from. Were you hunting before you came here?”

“No,” he said “there was an accident across the street. So, I worked the scene until the medics were there to take over.”

His eyes darted around the room, focusing on each customer at each table. A cough from someone behind him caused him to stand up.

“I can’t do this,” he said.

“Oh, thank god!” Tina thought, “He’s going to leave, and I can go home.”

“I can’t have my back facing the door. Switch with me?” Though he worded it as a question, he was already pulling on her wrist to force her to her feet.

“Did you want to go wash up?”

“It’s fine. It’s already a stain. They’re just jeans,” he said.

She tugged at the hem of her charcoal grey pencil skirt as she sat down and chastised herself for taking the time to dress up.

“So, you’re just fine with being coated in someone else’s bodily fluids?”

“I hate the normal first date questions.” He said, “What do you think about cannibalism?”

She looked to see if he was kidding. What part of their conversation so far had been normal? Before she could decide how to respond a huge crash came from the kitchen.

“HOURS”

He was on his feet and looking into the open kitchen. A member of the kitchen crew pulled a stack of pots and let them fall onto the floor.

“NO-TALENT”

And then another.

“JOB”

The clang of metal damped the connecting words in the sentences.

“MINE”

The crew member pulled a pot and lid off the stove. The slosh of liquid that had been in the pot could be heard throughout the restaurant. The swinging doors opened, and a person limped out wearing checkered pants and a white coat. A squish could be heard with each of their steps in the now silent restaurant.

Tina looked over to her date. His eyes were darting over the kitchen and the lone crew member. He looked like people in front of huge whiteboards, covered in formulas, trying to solve for X.

“I’m going to,” he said.

“Go. Yep.”

“They could be really hurt.” He said, “kitchens are full of dangerous things.”

As she watched him walking toward the kitchen crew member, she noticed his steps. He would swing his leg to take a single long stride, change his mind, pull his leg back, and then take a step that was a quarter the length of his original stride. The affect was of someone wanting to run but holding themselves back. It made Tina think of a child trying not to rush a puppy they saw on a sidewalk.

“Sir, were you going to have first taste?” The server asked, holding the bottle in one hand and two wineglasses in the other.

Tina smiled at the server, “Is that open yet?”

“What?”

She looked at the bottle to confirm her suspicions, the foil and cork were still intact.

“I’ll take that to go.”

At home, she got a single wineglass off the shelf, opened the bottle, and called her sister.

“How was it?” Her sister Teddy’s normally high voice was languid.

“He showed up covered in blood.”

A snort came through the phone, and a stage whisper repeated what Tina had just said.

“And that was the high point of the date.”

Her sister giggled too long.

“You’re drinking on the porch with your husband, aren’t you?”

“Mayy-be.” Her sister drawled. “You gonna see him again?”

“No. He was late because he was at an accident, he spent the whole time watching everyone in case of medical emergency, and he left with an injured kitchen worker. Just…no.”

“Oh my god!” said Teddy, “it’s every drive to Grandma and Grandpa’s with Mom, ever.”

“Exactly. Just always on the lookout for a scene of blood and mayhem.”

Tina took a deep drink of the merlot, rolled her eyes and sighed.

“What was that for Celestina?”

“First, I’ve been on 15 dates, and not one of them has gotten to the point of knowing what my full name is. Second, that little shit picked a great wine.”