Mr. Merlot

Mr. Merlot

By L. Kathleen Brost

“Well,” Katie said. “I’m really sorry, but it looks like he’s not coming after all,” Katie hoped her expression would not convey the roller-coaster her emotions were riding.

Georg, the maître d’, looked extremely uncomfortable. “I am sure Mr. Lowe has just been delayed, please feel free to wait longer, if you wish.”

“Thank you for being so patient, but I texted Mark and left him a voicemail a half-hour ago, and he hasn’t responded. And that was a half-hour after he was supposed to meet me.” Katie sighed, then smiled. “And I was really looking forward to having dinner here, I’d heard so much about it.”

“Yes, we have been in this location for almost 50 years, and have worked hard to build our reputation.” Georg could feel her disappointment from across the greeting station. “Perhaps you can come back again when the situation has been resolved.”

Katie ruefully shook her head. “It wouldn’t be a great memory, I’m afraid.” She stopped for a second, thinking. “Unless I make it one myself.”

Georg was puzzled. “How can you do that?”

“I change the circumstances, I create my own memory, turn it around.” Her voice took on a sudden tone of determination. “You’d made that chicken pasta dish sound so appealing when we were talking about the menu earlier, and I am definitely hungry now, it took almost an hour to get here. If you have still have our table open, I think I will take myself to dinner instead; I need to eat, and I wouldn’t want the restaurant to lose revenue on his account.” She smiled, and lifted her chin higher. “I’m pretty good company, I should still be able to have a nice time.”

Georg chuckled. “That is an excellent way to look at it. Yes, and I have an even better table for you now, it’s next to the window overlooking the garden patio. I will be happy to seat you, please follow me.”

He guided her to a lovely setting with a beautiful view, and held the chair for her as she made herself comfortable, handing her a menu and wine list. “I will check back with you in a few minutes, please take your time to decide.”

Katie looked out at the peaceful garden, and felt her anxiety subsiding. It was to have been her first get-together with Mark in person, they’d met online and waded through the customary message sessions, email exchanges, and finally phone and video calls, and all had seemed to be progressing positively. Lots in common: a love for travel, animals, ballroom dancing, even singing, it had seemed like their universes were parallel and lining up quite well as they’d gotten to know each other over the past several weeks.

But now. Katie was torn between worrying about Mark’s safety, or feeling discouraged and frustrated at what appeared to be his failure to follow through with their plans, and even told herself that having dinner alone might even be preferable, in case the date had not gone well after all. She didn’t really believe that, of course.

Georg returned, and Katie mustered as bright a smile as she could manage. “Thank you, I would like the pasta with chicken, and a glass of the Mirage merlot as well, I think I deserve it.”

He grinned. “As you wish, and later I will bring you the dessert menu, whatever you choose will be on the house.”

“As long as you have something with chocolate, I will be happy to accept,” Katie said, thinking perhaps that her evening wasn’t totally ruined after all. Chocolate could usually improve any situation.

A little while later, enjoying her meal and finally making peace with her disappointment, Katie reflected on her experience. Should she have expected Mark to show up for their date? Or prepared herself better for the possibility that he wouldn’t? How should she respond if he tried to contact her again? Should she respond at all? What was the most positive thing to learn from the situation? “We have expectations,” she mused, “based on our desires, wishes, and hopes about what will happen. But those aren’t necessarily the same as the other person involved. It may just be better to understand that we can have those desires and such, but expect to fulfill them ourselves, and not be dependent on someone else to do so for us. We can also make an effort toward fulfilling someone else’s dreams as well as the ones we have, and be pleasantly surprised if they fulfill ours, when the timing and the person are right.”

She raised her glass to the view through the window, enjoying the sparkle of the garden fairy lights in the reflection. “Mr. Merlot, thank you for joining me this evening. I will count it as a learning experience, full of insight and acquired wisdom, not to mention pasta, and I have very much appreciated your kind company.”

Suddenly a deep, resonant voice behind her startled Katie out of her reverie. She turned around quickly and looked up to see Mark’s contrite and anxious expression. “Katie! The maître d’ told me you were actually still here, I am so sorry. I tripped and fell on the way to my car, I was running late and had my cell phone out to call and let you know, but I dropped it and it broke when I fell. It wouldn’t work, I didn’t have your number written down, and couldn’t walk very well, my neighbor was kind enough to take me to an urgent care nearby and bring me here after. I thought I would see if you had been here and if you might have left your number with the restaurant, or I’d email you when I got home to explain and apologize.” He stood before her, his left foot in a black walking boot, crutches under each arm.

Katie, worried but relieved, arose to assist Mark into his chair. “Please let me help you,” she said. “I’m glad to know what happened, although I feel so badly for you, are you in a lot of pain? You must be starving, let me find the maître d’ to bring you a menu.”

Listening to Mark later as he ate and described his adventure, Katie felt glad that she had stayed and made the best of what had looked to be a disappointing evening. Although Mr. Merlot had been pleasant enough, dinner with Mr. Mark Lowe turned out to be quite an improvement.

© 2021 L. Kathleen Brost