The Gift

“I’ve got a special talent.

I don’t mean to brag. It’s more of a gift – if you will – on account of the fact that I didn’t choose it. It just came naturally, like most gifts do.

You see – I’m every guys’ dream date…only, they don’t know it. Well, technically I suppose I’m the dream date before the dream date. I understand how that might sound a little con-fu-sing and truuust me, I've been there. This idea befuddled me for years before I finally came to terms with it, myself. What I really mean to say is that my gift is, well, rather unique. Some might even go as far as to call it a curse. HahA! A curse. Could you believe that? If I were cursed I’d surely have known it by now. You know, I once spent an entire summer backpacking through Europe, collecting cursed objects from around the globe and yet, here I sit, before you, wearing one of the darn things right here on my wrist! Does that sound cursed to you? Unfortunately enough, it’s the only one I’ve got left. The rest of ‘em burned up in some freak trailer-fire incident - or that’s what the fire department referred to it as anyway - but I assure you I am anything but cursed.

My name is Alison Mae Studebaker.

But you can just call me Al, no need for formalities. Officially, I’m known in my local circle as the 'Undercover Match-Maker'. It’s quite endearing, really. It’s kind of a small circle…a circle of one, present company included, but growing – mind you...oh who’s counting, am I right?! Anyway, my gift puts me in the unique position of changing the course of any man’s life, simply by going on a single date with him. And then POOF! The next person he ends up being with always turns out to be ‘the one’ or whatever. It’s been this way since my High-School sweetheart, Tom, left me for my eldest sister Jeanine. They've got four kids now. Sure, we’d only been on one date but a relationship not ‘ought to be judged by its length but rather its depth, if you ask me.

Any-who, it’s an enormous responsibility, being a match-maker of such caliber, and I don’t take my duties lightly. It takes up most of my time entirely. Alas, I don’t do it for the fame, nor the fortune - there really isn’t much money to be made in this line of work…none at all, in fact. But it is rewarding in its own ways. If I weren’t out there sacrificing my own shot at a fairytale-ending, day in and day out - well, who else would take on such an encumbrance? But I go to bed every night with the satisfaction of knowing that I’m serving my community, my country, to the best of my ability, and that’s enough for me. Besides, two years ago I won eighty-seven-thousand dollars playing the Powerball. Sure, I had to split the third-place prize with four other winners but I’m positive I wouldn’t have won it in the first place, had I not been in this line of work. I reckon it was all the good karma I’d stored up during my time as a match-making missionary. Oh! That one has a ring to it, I’ll have to write that down. Where was I? Right. It was as though the Universe had affirmed my life’s purpose and I haven’t looked back since.

Don't get me wrong, it hasn’t always been easy. I’ve cultivated a strict set of guidelines over the years to which I thoroughly abide when I'm out in the field. Otherwise things could get pret-ty messy, as you might imagine.

Rule number one, first and foremost: never, ever ask a guy out first.

It has to be his decision, of his own accord, otherwise I’d be playing God and nobody needs that kind of stress in their life right now, hahA! Who am I to pick and choose who gets to live their happily-ever-afters and who doesn’t?! I am simply a cog in the machine of time, doing ex-act-ly what it is that I was put here on this good Earth to do.

Rule number two: don’t tell just any old person about The Gift.”

Ali lowers her voice in an attempt to whisper. She looks over her right shoulder, and then her left, before continuing.

“Nobody, in fact. It’s real hush-hush, and for good reason. Well, except that here I am tellin’ you, so I do hope you understand the importance of keeping this sacred-secret locked up tight in the lip-vault, and the potential repercussions that may follow suit if you don’t - hahA! Oh, don’t be alarmed, I’m only half kiddin’! But I am entrusting you. Lord, how do you think most guys would re-act?! They could very well go and mess up the course of their entire lives with this information! If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that a man can’t be trusted with the fate of his own life. Or worse, they could tell everybody they knew and there would be mobs of men bangin’ at my door or lined up around the block, waitin' to get a piece of the ‘frog-and-the-princess’ pie. I’d be on the front page of the news and I don’t even photograph well!

Rule number three: no friends, and no friends-of-friends.

That would be considered a home-field advantage and I am an equal-opportunist. Besides I’m not one to go meddling in the lives of people around me - well, not again, the last time didn't end so well...but that’s a story for another time.

Safe to say, I don’t get the usual pre-date jitters anymore. Not when you’ve done this as many times as I have, HahA! Nor do I spend countless hours picking out the right outfit or blending combinations of shadows to get the perfect smokey-eye, one that whispers ‘come and lay one on me, ya big lug!’. There’s none of that quirky nervous laughter, no awkward conversational lulls. Nope. I’ve got it down to a f-i-n-e science. Or perhaps it’s more of an art – oh heck, what does it matter anyway. Many hats, same head, am-I-right?! And I always wear the same black knee-high socks with the same teal, cinch-waisted dress. That takes all of the guess work out of it. I own five just the same, fresh and ready to go at a moment’s notice. A lot of successful people do that, wear the same outfit every day. I read it in a book somewhere.

Mentally, I’ve amassed a cornucopia of conversational topics and first-rate one-liners; well-suited for any occasion or occupational hazard one might come across on a first date. Most of the guys are pretty quiet, kinda like yourself. In fact, you've hardly said a word. I do like the strong, quiet type. I've got a good feeling about you. About us. Per-haps we are on the precipice of a turning tide - maybe it's about time I hang up these old stockings for good!”

A waiter approaches a red booth in the dimly-lit corner of Mario's Italian Restaurant where Alison sits across from Chris, her date. Alison wears a teal, cinch-waisted dress. Chris - a beige button down and slacks. Alison grabs the last piece of garlic bread and begins sopping up marinara sauce off of Chris's plate. The waiter, Pierre, speaks.

“Anything else for you this evening? Another glass of Merlot for the lady?”

“Oh yes, please. This Merlot is just di-vine, what a perfect pairing Pierre, boy that just rolls right off the tongue, doesn’t it! HahA! Where did you say it was from? You know what never-mind, you can just go ahead and fill the glass right up to the tippy-top – the night is young.”

She winks at Chris.

“Oh hunney, you’ve hardly touched your food at all. Can he get a to-go box for that? If he doesn’t eat it I sure will – waste not want not, am-I-right?! HahA! That’s what my mama always used to tell me. Oh and before you skedaddle, Pierre, we’ll take that dessert, too. To share. One spoon will be just fine. The chocolate mousse has been calling my name and something tells me that Chris here loves a good chocolate mousse – let’s just say I’m pretty intuitive. Oh! And the check – please, when you have a minute. Chris here will take care of it. I didn’t even bring my wallet, silly me hahA!”

She winks at Chris again. The waiter tops off her glass before leaving. Alison grabs the glass, takes a swig and gargles it loudly, before proceeding.

“I just feel like I’ve known you forever, like it was fate, don’t ya think? Running into me at the Trader Joe’s in the wine aisle like you did and all. I think we'd make the perfect pairing, like this here Merlot and this marinara."

The charm bracelet dangling from her wrist clanks loudly against the glass.

"Get it? Pairing. Wine. HahA! Oh jeez, I’ve been blabbin’ away all night! Enough about me, I wanna hear about you. You know, my great aunt’s nickname was Chris and she had six toes, said that was her gift, believed it was where all her in-toe-ition came from - used to crack herself up real good with that one! Come to think of it, if that’s not a sign then I don’t know what is. You do believe in omens don’t you, Chris? Oh hunney - you’re sweating. Is everything alright?”

Chris looks pale – ill, in fact. He speaks finally.

“You know what, I’m not feeling so…well.” He says while loosening his collar. “You’ll have to excuse me for a moment, I need to use the washroom.”

“Sure thing, I’m not going anywhere so don’t you hurry.”

Alison grabs her purse, pulling it onto her lap. She waits until the coast is clear, then pulls out a cell phone and begins to dial.

“It’s me – he’s in the bathroom, ya everything’s goin’ great. Like that sayin’ about candy and babies, yadda yadda.” She says in her now, thick, New York accent. “If I were you I’d be expecting a call any minute - mind you, my rate increase goes into effect after the first hour, and increases every thirty minutes thereafter. If he skips out on the bill, you foot the entire cost of that, in addition. Uh – huh. I accept all major forms of payment; Cash, debit or Stripe. Now I assure you, you have nothin’ to worry about, he’s a classic case. Yea – yea, I pulled all the stops… the superstition card, chocolate mousse ‘one spoon only’” they proceed to say in unison. Alison laughs. “…everything we agreed on. Yes, you’ll get your charm bracelet back in the mail. Look I did a real good number on him. He even thinks he met me at Trader Joe’s by coincidence – can you say hook-line-and-sinker! Eh-heh! Oh honey, if this is his first date post-pandemic, and he doesn’t come craw-ling back to you after seeing what’s out here, I’d say, good-riddance! Mhmm, right. Now remember, no refunds. You signed, you agreed, and if there happens to be a wedding, well I do appreciate tips. No, no wedding invites, too suspicious – oh, he’s on the other line? What'd I tell ya! Don’t answer right away, you have him right where you want him. Remember, play it cool. You’re in control now. Recommend me to all your friends. Alright, bye now.”

She hangs up the phone and places it back inside her purse. The waiter returns - mousse in one hand, check in the other.

“Oh Pi-erre, this Merlot is just di-vine!” She says in a thick, southern accent. “I’ll have another glass while I’m waiting – you know what, go ahead and leave the bottle. I’ve earned it. Where'd you say this was from again? I can? ...shipped, to my house? You don’t say. HahA!”