I went to a place called Taxi's for lunch on Wednesday. On the corner of University and Waverly in Palo Alto, Taxi's tries to affect a 50s diner atmosphere and serves food in line with that goal. I walked in with the intention of ordering a burger to go but noticed in the course of ordering that Game 6 of the Astros-Cardinals series had just started and was being shown on a flat screen TV at the back of the restaurant. I decided to make my order "for here" and grabbed a small table next to the large plate-glass windows that faced the TV.
One table down along the windows, there was a woman sitting facing me waiting for her lunch to come. She wasn't particularly attractive, but from her smile--which she offered as our eyes met when I went to sit down--she seemed like a very nice girl. Probably in her mid to late twenties, she had perfect teeth, great skin, and she sat quietly at her table browsing the internet on the iMac open in front of her.
Our meals came out at just about the same time. She spent the next 10 minutes or so nibbling at her salad and amusing herself with the internet as well as occasional glances up at me as my face became increasingly covered with the detritus of a Mushroom-Swiss Burger that decided to rebel against actually going in my mouth. When I caught her looking at me the first time, I felt like a special needs student on a field trip. All that was missing was the helmet, the chest harness, and my walking buddy shackled to me by reflective Velcro wrist-straps. A couple minutes later, I was looking up at the game and I noticed her eyes widen and light up.
As I was getting ready to shift in my seat and turn around to see what had captured her attention, a man with a baby came up and sat at the table to my right (her left). He was attractive, in his early thirties, and his baby girl--buckled into her carrier--was little more than a year old. She was smiling and, admittedly, absolutely adorable. The woman across from me was entranced. I don't think I could have wiped the smile off this woman's face or driven the sparkle from her eye had I backed over her entire family with a cement truck on Christmas morning. Ho! Ho! Ho! bitch, you're family's dead!
After father and baby got settled in their booth, he looked over at the woman across from me and asked her to watch his daughter while he went to the bathroom. She gladly agreed, closed her iMac, pushed her salad aside, and started making little faces at the baby girl. She played peek-a-boo with her, made silly ga-ga noises, all the typical shit you do to occupy a 1yr old strapped into a carrier.
There was something weird about the whole scene though and I was having a hard time putting my finger on it. It didn't dawn on me until Albert Pujols hit a 2-run bomb and I went to take a bite of my Mushroom-Swiss Explosion. As my eyes made their way down from the TV to my tray, I noticed that she was manically spinning the engagement ring perched loosely on her left ring finger. She wasn't just rubbing it or mindlessly playing with it either. She was spinning this fucker like she was on the Price is Right and it was time for the Showcase Showdown. It was all coming together. So I decided to talk to her
D: She's a cutie, isn't she?
W: She's precious. An angel. An absolute angel.
D: Do you have any kids?
W: No.
Her response was surprisingly curt. Yep, there it is. I figured that might strike a nerve. So I continued...
D: Gonna have kids when you get married? (sort of motioning with my eyes and a nod of the head toward the ring on her finger)
W: Oh. No I don't think so. We're getting married in a couple years and we're still young and everything and he's really goal-oriented and career driven so it's not exactly on his radar screen
Before I had a chance to interject and gesture that I understood, she started in again
W: Plus, I have my writing and grad school to finish up so babies really are not something I'm concerned about. But no we're probably not gonna have kids
I paused for a second to see if she would continue convincing herself that she wasn't marrying the wrong person for the wrong reasons. Satisfied that she'd finished her speech--one she had undoubtedly given to every member of her extended family--I broke in
D: Really?! Just by watching you play with this little girl you look like a natural. Your eyes are lighting up and you haven't stopped smiling since she strolled up with her daddy. (yeah, I said daddy. So what? Fuck you.)
She had nothing to say to that. She plaintively pulled her wilting salad toward her and stared blankly down at her closed iMac. I was getting there but I hadn't quite pushed the right button.
D: He doesn't want kids does he? Your fiancé, I mean. Watching you with this little angel, I just can't buy that you don't want kids. Can't buy it.
That did it. Out roared the 5 stages of the grieving process. This caught me completely off guard
Stage 1: Denial
W: No. No. That's not it at all. I know deep down he wants kids. He's great with his nieces and animals and things; it's just that right now he's so focused on his career that he's not even thinking about children
D: [to myself with my inside voice...thank god] Animals?! Huh?! Well, you know, that makes perfect sense. I mean I've never kicked a stray dog or ritualistically slaughtered a tree squirrel so I must be more than fit to raise children.
D: [to her] Oh, I guess that makes sense. It's just that I saw you spinning the hell out of your ring and I remember reading that that kind of subconscious fidgeting is a tell-tale sign of some type of fundamental unhappiness and personal disquietude. (I have no idea what I'm talking about. I've never taken a psych class in my life).
Stage 2: Anger
W: Who are you anyway? Is any of this really any of your business?! This is just really weird. Do you talk to random strangers like this all the time?
D: Honestly? Yes. I was absent the day they taught us not to talk to strangers. I'm sorry for being so rude and so forward. My name is [DrunkRex]. What's yours again?
W: Again? I never gave it to you in the first place, DRUUUUNK.
D: Ummm, okay.
That led to an uncomfortable silence during which the dad came back to the booth and the Astros-Cardinals game recaptured my attention. Not a minute later...
Stage 3: Bargaining
W: I'm sorry for being so rude, it's just that we just had this conversation--Aneesh and I--the other day. Aneesh is my fiancé by the way
D: I figured. And again, I'm sorry. That was really a dick move on my part. My mom constantly tells me that 99% of the time you can be 100% certain that I'm the only one who wants to hear my opinion. She tells me that a lot, actually.
W:
D: She tells me that a lot, too.
W: You are right though. I do want kids badly. And I'm sure once Aneesh and I are settled into our lives...he's successful doing what he's doing, I'm successful with what I'm doing...I'm sure things will be different and the whole idea will come back up. I have faith in our love for each other. We make each other immensely happy...
That last sentence trailed off as Stage 3 melted away for the despair of...
Stage 4: Depression
D: Well that's really the most important part, don't you think? Being happy with each other. I obviously don't know you or anythi--
W: My name's Veronica by the way...sorry, go ahead...
D: Ver--
W: It's just that I realized I hadn't told you my name when you told me yours. Oops sorry again. Go ahead...for real this time
D: Veronica. Okay. Nice to meet you...So what I was saying was that I don't know anything about you...you were totally right about that, it's just that looking at you with that baby I can't imagine you not having kids soon. Ever, at that! Plus, I don't trust any man who refuses to have kids or doesn't want them. It's just not natural
I was glancing back and forth between her and the baseball game while I was talking so it wasn't until I was finished that I realized she was beginning to tear up. Her lower lip was quivering a little and she was spinning her ring even faster now. That's when I decided I had to get the fuck out of there. I took one final handful of fries, walked over to her, grabbed a couple paper napkins out of the dispenser at her table, handed them to her and told her I was sorry for bringing up such a touchy subject. She tried to say it was okay, but the words wouldn't come out. All I could think to say was "Good luck with that" before I finally just cut my losses, turned around, and walked out.
In good conscience I probably should have stayed for Stage 5. That's the one about Acceptance. I don't know if I could have handled it though. It would have most likely involved sitting through a torrent of crocodile tears and breathless blubbering. And, to be honest with you, I don't think I would have had the patience to sit there and offer the requisite "now, nows" and "there, theres" and "don't cry, it'll be okays." I just didn't care enough at that point.
Oh well, I got to 4 of them. 4 out of 5 ain't bad.
Posted by Administrator at 9:43 PM