A Ferry Tale

"No date tonight?" I asked.

"I'm not seeing anyone. My last relationship ended over a year ago. Been on some dates but no one has impressed me. I could ask the same of you."

"Same for me. I haven't had much of a love life recently. My girlfriend moved out three days before Valentine's Day over two years ago. I had planned to propose on Valentine's Day. I came home early and caught her just as she was leaving. If I hadn't got home when I did, I'd have found her and half of the furniture in the house gone. Half of the furniture was gone although I didn't know it yet when I ran into her."

"Ouch. She never said anything? Never hinted she was unhappy?"

I shook my head. "We'd talked about getting married a couple weeks before she left. She seemed happy about the prospect. I didn't propose that night because I wanted to have the ring in hand. I was going to pick up the ring she liked the day after she left. Turned out she knew she was leaving for some time. Had a job all lined up since the previous December."

"You'd already bought the ring?"

"Only put a deposit on it. I only got stuck paying for the setting. The store assured me they'd have no trouble selling a high quality six-tenths carat pear cut blue diamond."

"My last relationship fell apart over time. I met a dermatologist while I was at Oxford. We moved to the states after I completed my post-doctoral studies because I couldn't get a work visa. She had no trouble getting a license to practice in the states since she went to med school at Yale. Did her internship and residency at Johns Hopkins before returning to England. She got fed up with the health insurance bullshit in the U.S. and decided to go home. I think she was homesick, too."

The 'she' almost got past me. I was enjoying my dinner and conversation with April. I was starting to hope our acquaintance might go somewhere. My dashed hopes must have shown on my face.

April grinned. "You look disappointed, Jeff Kintz."

I smiled back at her. "I guess our friendship won't progress in a romantic direction."

"It's not out of the realm of possibility, Jeff Kintz. I've had been interested in men at times. I almost married one, once. I'd say I'm curious enough about you to be somewhat interested. Teresa likes you. So, you've got that going for you. And you're not hard to look at."

I kept the expression on my face passive. But I was jumping for joy inside my head. "What's your plan after we eat?" I asked.

April looked out at my living room. "I see you've got a big TV. Hi-Def?"

"Of course."

"What games have you got?" she asked.

"Why do you think I'm a gamer?"

She didn't answer. Just gave me a look that said, "Do I look like an idiot?"

I smiled and rattled off some of my games.

She laughed. "Typical. Lots of first-person shooter stuff. Anything with a little less blood, guts, and gore?"

It was my turn to laugh. "A couple versions ofMadden Football, NBA Basketball, three different MLB games, two versions ofGrand Theft Auto." I hesitated. "I've gotMario Kart andSpiderman my nephews left here for when they visit," I added with a grin.

"Oooh, I was going to go easy on you. Maybe even let you win a time or two. Now, I'm going to be merciless. Your ass is going down," she grinned. "I'll even let you pick the battleground you die on."

"Okay. How aboutGrand Theft Auto?" I suggested.

"I've never played that, but I watched it a few times in the dorm. You're on, right after we clean up," she laughed.

"Screw that," I said. "I can always clean the kitchen. It's not every day I get to kick female butt at video games!"

We played video games until one in the morning. I beat her at an older version ofGrand Theft Auto. Once. She held her own considering she claimed she'd never played it before. She won the rematch.Madden Football was close. I lost all three. On a last-minute field goal, one TD, and by a safety. We didn't play baseball. Basketball was a blowout. I felt like I was a junior high school kid playing against an NBA All-Star team.

"That was humiliating," I said after losing the second basketball game. "I can usually hold my own when I play against someone. Even when I play an online game."

April laughed. "I grew up in Indiana. Basketball is a religion, there."

"I'd ask for a rematch, but I suspect it would be pointless," I said. "Want to try Mario Kart? Maybe I've got a chance to beat you at that," I added with a grin.

April hesitated for a moment. "I should go," she finally said. "It's late and I've already taken advantage of your hospitality," she said.

"Are you kidding? You fed me and I had fun. The only time I have marathon gaming sessions these days is when my nephews hang out." I hesitated a moment. I wanted to extend my time with April if I could. "But if you feel like you need to go, I'll walk you home."

"You don't have to walk me home."

I didn't like the idea of her walking home alone. "I've got a better idea," I responded. "I bought a replacement for the bed my ex took."

"I'm not sleeping with you," she said, suddenly edgy.

I laughed. "I wasn't suggesting it. You can have the same bed you slept in last time. I'll find something for you to sleep in. You can lock the door if you don't trust me."

April hesitated for a long moment, looking at the floor. "Okay. I accept. I think I can trust you, Jeff Kintz. I don't think you'll disappoint me."

I dug out a new toothbrush for her, a clean hand towel, and a washcloth. While she cleaned up, I found an old Eagles concert tee that shrunk so much I couldn't wear it. I dug out gym shorts that would be too big for her but had a drawstring she could tighten to hold them up.

The bathroom door was ajar when I returned with her sleepwear. I heard water running. I knocked and after a moment she told me to come in. She was at the sink with her back to me. Her denim shirt was draped over the shower curtain rod. I had to force myself to breathe and hoped my recent lack of female companionship didn't become obvious when I saw her outfitted from shoulders to ankles in formfitting Lycra.

"I found a tee shirt you can wear and a pair of gym shorts. Both will be big, but they'll work for a night. The shorts have a drawstring."

"Thanks," she said with a smile as she took the proffered sleepwear. "Goodnight, Jeff Kintz," she added.

I heard the bathroom door close and latch as I turned for my bedroom. I went through my evening routine in my ensuite bath, changed into my usual warm weather sleepwear, a tee shirt and basketball shorts. I went back to the kitchen briefly for a clean glass and some water. April came out of the bath and went into the spare bedroom ahead of me. The door closed and I heard the lock click as I passed. I left my door slightly ajar, climbed into bed and turned off the light.

The morning sun shining through my bedroom window woke me on Sunday morning before seven. When I rolled over, I saw my bedroom door was half open. I hit the bathroom first, eliminating morning wood, washed my hands and face and brushed my teeth. The aroma of fresh brewed coffee hung in the air as I approached the kitchen.

April was dressed and puttering in the kitchen when I entered. "Good morning, April. Sleep well?"

"I tossed and turned for a bit. But not long. It's been a long time since I slept in a twin bed."

"Earlier this year," slipped out before I could stop myself.

April looked at me with a blank expression but didn't say anything for a moment. "I took the liberty of making coffee. I hope you don't mind," as she turned back to the sink.

"Of course, not." The previous night's dishes were in the dishrack. She was washing the flatware that was in the sink. "You didn't have to wash the dishes."

"I was up. It's no big deal. I hope you can cook. You're doing breakfast."

"I manage. An omelet work for you?"

"You're the cook," she said as she dried her hands.

I whipped up a Greek omelet -- eggs, tomato, spinach, and Feta cheese with warm pita bread. April ate lightly but drank two glasses of ice water after a half cup of unsweetened black coffee.

She good-naturedly needled me a bit about our night of video games. But soon changed the subject. "What do you have planned for the day, Jeff Kintz?" she asked just before taking a bite of bread.

"Lunch with my mother and my sister. I'll be home again around three or so. Then nothing special. I have a shelf I've been meaning to put up in the garage. I'll probably tackle that. You?"

"I'll do a run then I have some reading to prep for my classes this week. I'm in the habit of reading all the material I assign to my students. I don't like to rely entirely upon my memory of reading I did years ago."

We talked at the breakfast table for about forty minutes. When I got up to get a second cup of coffee. April gathered the dishes and turned toward the sink.

"Put those down," I told her. "I'll clean up."

"Okay," she said. "I should go home, anyway. I hadn't planned to stay the night. Rufus is probably wondering what happened to me," she said. She sat on the living room floor and started stretching while she talked to me.

"Rufus?" I asked.

"Lisbeth's Cavalier King Charles Spaniel mix. I inherited him because it was too much trouble to arrange to bring him to England when she moved back. Rufus is getting old. He was getting old when we adopted him two years ago. But he keeps me company at night and on weekends. He likes to sit on my lap and nap when I read. He'll be in seventh heaven this afternoon."

"I've thought about getting a dog but I sometimes work long days. Didn't want to leave it home alone all the time. I don't travel for work often, but it does happen. Give me a minute to get something on my feet. I'll walk you home."

"Not necessary," she said. "I'm going to do a short run this morning. My training schedule for today is 5K. I already have a route home laid out that's 5K. I've done it from Teresa's a couple times."

I was surprised to learn April had been to my neighbor's house. But she had mentioned that Teresa was a friend. I didn't talk to Teresa often. But Teresa, Brian, and I bumped into each other frequently enough and we did talk. Neither had ever mentioned April. "How long will that take? I've got time."

"About seventeen to eighteen minutes, maybe a little less. Depends on traffic and whether I have to stop and wait for traffic at an intersection. There's two likely to cause a delay."

I was taken aback a bit. When I ran, I averaged six and a half minute miles on a hard run. In a 5K race, April would finish a half mile ahead of me. And that's if she couldn't run faster than five minute forty-five second miles.

April stretched in my living room while we talked some more. Her range of motion and flexibility were impressive. When she was ready, she turned for the front door. I followed her out onto the porch.

"Last night was fun, Jeff Kintz. Okay, I'm off. See ya later."

I watched April took off. Her stride was long, effortless, graceful. Her feet barely seemed to touch the ground. I went back inside when she turned the corner at the end of the street. After washing, drying and putting away the dishes, I shaved, took a shower, and got dressed. I went into my home office to do my weekly investment portfolio review. I found a note on the whiteboard above my desk.

"309 555 1877 Dinner out tonight? Call or text by six if interested. No video games tonight, though." A smiley face was under the note.

I smiled. I took out my phone and texted her. "Dell 'Abbate's. 6:30 okay? Just grab a table if you get there first. JK"

Lunch at my mother's was much like it always is. Both sisters and my nephews were there. My nephews picked at their lunches because they'd made a nuisance of themselves sampling while their grandmother cooked and raiding the refrigerator when she wasn't looking. Or they thought they could get away with it. I'd planned to be home by midafternoon but got delayed when my ex-brother-in-law stopped by to pick up the boys. My older sister and her ex have a difficult relationship, so she was in her usual foul mood. But Mom still adores him. I stay out of it as much as possible. Victoria, you didn't call her Vicky upon pain of severe bodily harm, has always been moody and difficult. Bitchy is not an unheard-of adjective used to describe her. Even Mom uses it sometimes. I mostly get along with her okay but she's not easy. If I had to choose between spending the afternoon alone with her or her ex, Grant, and there'd be no repercussions? It'd be Grant.

I left for home just before four. Once on the train, I checked messages. April confirmed but for 6:45.

Dell 'Abbate's is a leisurely twenty-minute walk from my place. Left out the door to the end of the street. Left again for about ten minutes and then right, past an antique shop to the middle of the block. It's a typical family-run Italian restaurant. The kind of place likely found anywhere between Philadelphia and Boston. Two public entrances. One takes you to a counter right at the front of a kitchen where coordinated pandemonium reigns. You breathe an intoxicating atmosphere scented with whatever is or has been cooking. A high school girl behind the counter politely, but hurriedly and efficiently, jots down phone orders. A steady stream of customers picks up to-go orders of New York style pizza, subs, calzones, or a host of other options too numerous to list. Delivery employees hustle in and then back out a back door with food in insulated carriers. Loud Bronx and Brooklyn accented voices predominate in the kitchen at Dell 'Abbate.

The other entrance takes you into the smallish dining room to a mix of booths and tables. A dated décor that hasn't changed in years pays homage to the family's Italian heritage, though it's probable two, three, or even four generations have passed since the last time someone from the family set foot in Italy. The wait staff runs the gamut from high school kids to late middle-aged grandmothers, including the third-generation owner's wife.

Dell 'Abbate's isn't a formal place. There's no hostess to seat you; seating is first come, first served. I was a few minutes early but quickly spotted April already seated in an out-of-the-way booth. She was dressed much like she was when she showed up at my door the previous afternoon. A blue Lycra top under a loose partially unbuttoned shirt. Black tights. She was wearing sandals instead of running shoes. A small handbag was on the bench she'd been sitting on. I was wearing the same clothes I wore to my mother's. Jeans, a collared, short-sleeved pullover shirt, and running shoes.

April stood when I got to her, she took both my hands, and touched her cheek to mine. "Hey, Jeff Kintz," she smiled at me. "Good choice for dinner."

"I take it you know the place."

"I do. I don't need to look at a menu. I already know what I'm having."

"Me, too." We both ignored the menus between the wall, the condiments, and napkin dispenser.

Our waitress arrived shortly after we sat down. Now about twenty, she'd been waiting on me since she was in high school. We were on a first name basis.

"Hi, Jeff. Dr. Mettle. What can I get you to drink?"

I deferred to April. "I'll have a lemonade, Katherine," April said.

"Same for me, Kat," I said when she turned to me.

"I'll be right back with your drinks," Kat said. She left us and stopped again a couple booths away, then hustled off again after a brief chat with the occupants.

"Dr. Mettle? Katherine, not Kat?" I asked April. I wasn't surprised she was Dr. Mettle; I was surprised Kat referred to her as Dr. Mettle.

"She's one of my students. Now that you're sitting here," April continued, "I think I've seen you here a few times before. Not recently, though. You were with a woman."

We were interrupted briefly by a rail-thin college-age kid with an earful of piercings, a nose ring, and a colorful dragon head tattoo on his neck. I'd never seen him before. I briefly wondered how far down his torso the dragon went. He set a basket of bread and butter on the table and poured water into two of the glasses on the table. He took away the other two glasses and two sets of flatware wrapped in napkins.

"I ate here with my ex sometimes. I still eat here. Sometimes get delivery. I first came here with my grandparents when I was six or seven."

"I like the food. The Italian restaurants where I grew up are nothing like this place. Chains mostly."

I laughed. "The northeast is almost the only place you can reliably get good Italian in a family restaurant. You can find good Italian if you go upscale in big cities out west. But it'll cost you. Plus, once you get away from the northeast it's always pan pizza. I hate pan pizza."

"The first time I ate at a little Italian restaurant in Boston was eye-opening. Mom doesn't cook Italian food. The cafeteria Italian at Northeastern was horrible. You could play ping-pong with the meatballs. I swear, they'd hold together for an entire afternoon. Lisbeth went to Italy on vacation a few times before I met her. She liked the Italian here but said it's different from the food in Italy. Americanized, I guess."

Kat arrived with our drinks. "Ready to order or do you need a few more minutes?" she asked. I again deferred to April.

"Lasagna, please, Katherine."

"Italian dressing on your salad, Dr. Mettle?"

"Please."

"Jeff?"

"Eggplant parm and a side of meatballs. French dressing, please, Kat."

Dinner with April was once again fun. I learned a bit more about her, of course. We were moving into unexplored, but harmless territory as we talked. She enjoyed cycling but was a dedicated runner. A marathoner who'd finished in the top one hundred women the first time she ran at Boston and the top fifty the second time after getting a more advantageous starting position. Both while attending Northeastern. I much prefer my bike to my running shoes but during the cold months, I run to stay in shape. It's always a grind, though.

I tried to pick up the check, but April insisted on paying her own way.

When we got outside, April smiled at me. "Dinner was fun, Jeff Kintz," she said. "I think you have some potential."

"Potential? What's that mean?" I asked.

She ignored the questions. "Walk me home?"

"Sure. Which way?" She took my hand and turned to the left. "How far from here do you live?" I asked. I was only curious. I'd have walked to Perth Amboy with her.

"Not far," she responded with a small smile. She stopped in front of the fifth house we came to. "This is me," she said.

"Wow! Getting to the restaurant must have been a hardship," I teased.

"I know. It must have put me at least a hundred steps over my daily target," she said in mock seriousness.

"Just out of curiosity, why six-forty-five instead of six-thirty?"

April grinned widely. "Just seeing how flexible you were."

"Did you think fifteen minutes would make a difference?"

"You never know. Want to come in? I still have a couple beers in the fridge that Lisbeth left behind."

I was a little surprised at being invited in, but there was no chance I'd turn down the invitation. It was still early, not yet eight-thirty. "Sure. No beer for me, though. I'm stuffed."

April let go of my hand and dug through her purse for her key. "I hate keeping my keys in a purse. I can never find them."

I was taken aback when I first entered April's house. The front door led into a closed-in porch that had been turned into a year-round room. There were books everywhere. On bookshelves, stacked on tables, in piles on the floor. Even a chair in one corner had books stacked on it.

A small black, brown, and white dog trotted directly to April when we entered her living room and rubbed against her leg until she greeted it and rubbed the top of its head. The living room décor was similarly dominated by reading material, though it was more traditionally organized. Two walls were taken up with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. A three-step ladder on wheels was against one of the bookshelves. Several books with multiple page markers in them were in a neat stack on the coffee table next to an open briefcase stuffed with what looked like papers submitted by students in her classes.