"...what just happened."

…what just happened?

by Marvin C. Reid

I’d been sitting at my desk in my home office for the better part of a year; Zoom meetings, faux gatherings over the internet and the occasional trip to grab a bite to eat, carry out of course. Finally, a break. While watching the local news, word came that businesses would be allowed to open, including restaurants, bars, and most importantly, barbershops and hair salons. Lord knows I needed a proper haircut because my hairline was a mess. In case you didn’t know this, barbers are really skilled at what they do and trying to do it yourself at home with some clippers you bought on sale at TJ Maxx just doesn’t cut it…pun intended.

But you didn’t come here to hear me complain about Covid fatigue or my jagged hairline, you probably want to know about what happened between me and Jasmine. Yes, that Jasmine; you know, the one with the killer body that I ran into at the…never mind…anyway, we’d been texting for weeks and I finally got up the nerve to ask her out on a date. Now that things we beginning to open up a bit, I thought it might be a good idea to get out and start socializing again. After all, my four walls had become a new normal that just wasn’t. No human should ever be subjected to sitting in a confined space, that is, unless they’ve been properly convicted of a really heinous crime, but I digress. Jasmine, right?

We agreed to meet at a restaurant local to her. We had never seen each other face to face except for on the phone and that kinda sucks because it’s more Zoom. I didn’t want to look at another picture, video, or anything of the sort, no matter how sexy. Yes, OK…I admit it, we did do a little ‘adult’ texting too because we were really trying to comply with the orders to stay home and all of that. I have to tell you, even that wasn’t enough after a while, so the date was really an exciting prospect.

The afternoon of the date, I went out and got myself a decent haircut, picked up some clothes from the cleaners and headed into the local corner store to grab some chips and a soda. I encountered a gentleman outside who asked me for a few bucks because he was hungry…wait…let me back up a bit…

As I arrived at the store, I noticed a gentleman who was consistently being shooed away by passersby. He was the picture of humility and genuinely appeared to be in need. He was older, I wanna say about…sixty or so years old, not too much older than I was at the time. After all, if we really consider our lives, we only have X number of years; one day we’re eighteen and chasing down taxi’s, next thing we know our bones are creaking as we struggle to get out of bed.

The man very humbly and politely asked me for two dollars because he was hungry, I simply replied, “I got you, man.” For those of you who are unfamiliar with that phrasing, it’s’ a New York-ism, mainly in the inner-city, and has literally dozens of meanings. In this case, it meant, I will help you. As I walked out of the store, I looked at my watch and noticed my time was getting short. I looked inside my wallet and it was devoid of cash. You know, cash…that thing we all used to use before our phones started paying for everything? Money. Dollars. Coins.

Right…

…so…I thought to run to the ATM and get some cash for him but changed my mind and decided to do something a little different. After all, we both had on masks and he seemed in his right mind so upon walking out of the store with my soda and chips, I asked, “Hungry?” He looked at me surprised and said, “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Come on, let’s grab something to eat.”

“Are you serious?”

Nodding politely, we set out on our little journey to find him something to eat. We were in the city so finding food was easy, except that I didn’t know him, what he liked or anything so I asked. He said, “Man, anything.” That’s when I knew he was really hungry. It made me sad. Though I didn’t react to his statement, I realized I had no frame of reference for what he was experiencing. I wasn’t a privileged child or anything, but I never, ever knew hunger.

We settled on this cute little bistro not far from the theater district and it was open in a limited seating capacity. Gauging my time, I thought I would grab a table for him, let him order whatever, pay, and roll along to my date that evening. We were seated fairly quickly and he sat down nervously, looked around and around. I assured him all was well and that he was welcomed to order whatever he wanted, and to get something to go if he either needed or wanted it. He was overwhelmed.

Of course, the best laid plans are just that…plans…there was another plan. So there we were, two gentlemen talking about days gone by and even enjoyed a laugh or two. He excused himself and went to the restroom. When he arrived back, the server took his order. I had water with lemon. I figured I would be out of there in a bit, besides, I didn’t want to keep Jasmine waiting.

Plans.

I learned the man I helped was a decorated war veteran of Desert Storm, and had been honored for heroism and bravery. Sadly, when he returned home, he didn’t receive the services and care he needed and fell on hard times. I was absolutely fascinated as he told me a few stories of places he had been, and things he had seen. Amazing. I looked at my watch and realized I had stayed a little too long. I summoned the server but she was busy at another table across the restaurant room. A hostess who had been greeting patrons at the front noticed, and since she wasn’t doing anything at the moment, she walked over and asked if she could be of assistance. I simply mentioned I needed the check and wanted to say more but I found it a bit awkward…enter, the war hero… ”Miss, I’m sorry for my new friend here but we actually don’t know each other. I saw him outside of a store I beg in front of sometimes and, well, he brought me here for a meal.”

For a moment there was an awkward silence. The shapely hostess took my credit card and quietly slipped away. After a time, our original server came back with my card, the check and a note. She said, “The note is to be read when you leave.”

“Come again,” I said.

“That’s all I was told to tell you.”

“Speaking of which, that hostess that was here…”

“She’s gone for the day. I hope you gentlemen enjoyed your meal.”

I thanked her, thanked him for his selfless service to our nation and left the restaurant. I immediately opened the note when I got outside, it read…

“Wearing masks sucks. Change of plans. My place. 8 pm. Jasmine.”

So…I’m standing on the street corner, note in hand, wondering…how did she…was she…OK…right.

I got to Jasmine’s place on time, roses and a bottle of Primitivo-Merlot Zolla in hand, I remember she told me it was her favorite...I’m no sommelier but that’s what she said, so…She opened the door and I was stunned to see her dressed in a simple halter and jeans. She wasn’t wearing any shoes and her hair was out. As she let me in, I looked over at the table and noticed lit candles. As a matter of fact, there were candles everywhere.

She reached over to the table, grabbed a bottle of the Merlot (turns out she had already chilled some of her own stash), handed me a glass, and invited me to sit down. Nervously, I did. I noticed every contour of her face, every lash. She held up her glass and said… ”To our men and women in uniform…and the people who really give a damn about them.”

I was absolutely speechless.

It was her. Jasmine.

She saw and heard everything.

The next morning, I woke up and realized I didn’t recognize the decorative ceiling fan, or the fancy, custom horizontal blinds. I was lying in a California King in my birthday suit, next to an equally naked woman who snored like a sailor.

Must have been some wine.