Happy Thanksgiving

I couldn’t understand what drew me to him. Something did, though.

I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t.

I simply sat. Waiting. I didn’t know what I was waiting for. But I waited nonetheless.

“That’s my favorite bowl, have you tried the Unreal Chicken Kale Salad?” I asked him as he sat. He just looked at me, flirtatiously.

“I’m Dexter,” I said to him. This nameless man sitting next to me.

“I’m Joey,” he formally introduced himself in a sultry voice. He now had a name. He also had striking, black eyes. A long nose, which I could only hope wasn’t indicative of his honesty. He had wavy, brown hair. And thin lips.

“Have you tried the BLT?” Joey asked me. I hadn’t.

“I haven’t, I heard it’s good, but I’m a one-trick pony sometimes.”

“Aren’t we all,” Joey said and smiled. I was a big fan of his smile.

“You come here often?” Joey asked me. I wanted him to ask me that. I wanted him to ask me everything.

“Most nights, when I’m working, sometimes when I’m not. You?” I followed up his question with a question.

“I come here when I work late,” Joey answered, taking another bite from his cruciferous bowl. His bowl was so colorful. He wasn’t. He wore a blue sweater, black jeans, and a somber demeanor. Yet I couldn’t stay away.

We spoke for almost an hour.

We spoke about his job as a computer engineer. It was a lucrative career.

We spoke about my job as a writer. The opposite of a lucrative career.

We spoke about politics. We shared similar views.

We spoke about our favorites movies. We didn’t share similar views.

We spoke about our family. We both had one sibling.

We spoke about our family. We both had one missing parent.

We spoke about everything. We spoke about anything.

We spoke. We spoke from our hearts.

Or at least I did.

“I think I should get going, they’re closing up,” is what crossed my mind as I looked over at the tatted, brunette with the most intimidating green eyes I had ever seen. I saw her every night I had dinner there. I saw her counting out her register; it was her nightly code for anyone remaining to leave, that and the side-eye she’s subtly shoot my way. She scared me. They both scared me, respectively.

“I was wondering…” I started to say to Joey. But I stopped myself. I was too scared to ask for his phone number or some way to stay in contact. I was too scared of “no.”

Joey just looked at me, smiling flirtatiously. Did he know what I was going to ask him? Did he plan to ask me the same question?

“I was wondering what side of town you stay in?” I asked him, because it was the first thing to come to mind. I regretted it immediately. He was going to think I was a stalker. Or worse, he was going to think I was aiming for an invitation over to his place. I didn’t want that. Or maybe I did. I did, but not like that.

“I live in Hollywood. You?” Joey asked, taking one last bite from his cruciferous bowl. He was a slower eater than me. Granted, he had a beer to wash down his food and slow down his consumption. And wash down whatever other subjects we hadn’t discussed in that hour.

“I live in Silver Lake,” I answered, looking at his striking, black eyes. They were black, but I sensed no darkness. If anything, they reawakened a long, dormant light in me.

I took a look at the tatted, brunette with the most intimidating green eyes I had ever seen; I took a look at him; Joey took a look at no one as he simply looked ahead of him: at nothing. He had left.

“I should get going…” I finally said the words that hurt my throat as they exited through my lips. Joey didn’t say anything, instead taking one last, long gulp from his beer bottle.

“It was nice meeting you,” I said to him as I stood up and he remained seated. For the first time that whole night, I felt in a position of power.

Joey just looked ahead, in silence.

I started making my way towards the exit, my heart feeling heavy. It didn’t make sense. We had just met. Yet, we had known each other a lifetime.

“Dexter,” I heard his sultry voice say my name. An immediate arousal. A non-physical sexual act. I simply turned around to look at him. Joey had returned to say goodbye.

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

I replayed his last words that entire night as I laid in bed. Alone.

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

For the first time in my entire life, I had something to be thankful for.