At least not for most of us. Only a few of us are lucky that way,” she said.
I nodded to her. “Yeah, and those are usually the type of people who are never satisfied with anything.”
“Because they never had to struggle,” she responded. “They take things for granted. Struggle makes us all a lot stronger, and those who are afraid of struggle are the ones who are just plain immature. They’re like little children, needing somebody to lead them through every step of the way. Then they want to get tired all of a sudden. ‘Oh, I’m so tired.’”
I found that Denise could go on for a while, talking about the shortcomings of society, motivation, positive thinking, and the general lack ofprogression. She was just a dynamic woman. By the time our food came, I hardly had an appetite. I just wanted to listen to her. I kept wondering why she wasn’t married, or
at least
taken.
“So how did you wind up getting into the finance business?” I asked her. Before that night, I had only asked her about the business, and not how she got into it.
“It was just something that I found I could do well,” she answered, eating a tender salmon dish. I ordered steak, cooked well.
“Most of us never fully utilize our talents,” I told her. “I took piano lessons for about eight years, and just decided to give it up after high school. It just didn’t seem like a manly thing to do, you know. But sometimes I find myself daydreaming about continuing on with it, like Thelonious Monk or Herbie Hancock or somebody.”
“Oh,” Denise perked. “I
thought
your hands felt kind of soft for a
truck driver
. So, you’re a Mr. Piano, incognito.”
“Now, wait a minute, I didn’t say I was a pro,” I told her.
“You don’t have to be. Can you
play
the doggone thing?”
“Oh yeah, I can play. I just didn’t wanna get to lying on myself, having you think that I can
jam
on the thing. Because I’m not that good.”
“You’re better than me. I never played the piano a day in my life,” she told me. “We never owned one.”
“Well, in that case, I’m sure I can show you a thing or two, just to get you started with a little something.”
She gave me this long, mischievous grin that made me think of us together, naked. It was one of the many small hints I observed that told me Denise was definitely interested in me.
“I would like that,” she said.
I was certain that she would, but like she said before, we don’t always get what we want the first time around. I would have to go over what I knew before I even
thought
about showing her anything! I knew I would have been rusty.
I didn’t expect a kiss on the lips that night, but to my surprise, Denise gave me a wet one at her doorstep anyway.
“That’s for your effort,” she told me with a smile.
“All I ask is that we can do it again,” I responded.
She held my hand again and said, “Don’t worry. We will. I promise. It just might not be when you want, or when
I
want. It may be sometime in between.”
“Well, that’s what they say, ‘Real relationships are about compromise,’” I told her. “Okay then. I can agree to those terms.”
I went home alone that night and remembered it being the most pleasing closure of a first date that I ever had. It was maturity. I thought of Denise as a worthwhile mission, and I had my heart all the way into it. I had committed myself to going that extra mile for something,
someone
, I should say, who was definitely worth it.
Back on the road, my ten legal hours of driving were up. Larry and I had stopped at a truck station in Kentucky, ate some fattening fast food, and were ready to get back on our way to Orlando, Florida. It was close to nine o’clock at night, and time for Larry to do his part at the wheel.
“You ready, man?” I asked him.
He stretched and answered, “Yeah, I’m ready.”
I traded places with him and we got back on our way. Larry would get in these moods where he wouldn’t talk while driving,
I nodded to her. “Yeah, and those are usually the type of people who are never satisfied with anything.”
“Because they never had to struggle,” she responded. “They take things for granted. Struggle makes us all a lot stronger, and those who are afraid of struggle are the ones who are just plain immature. They’re like little children, needing somebody to lead them through every step of the way. Then they want to get tired all of a sudden. ‘Oh, I’m so tired.’”
I found that Denise could go on for a while, talking about the shortcomings of society, motivation, positive thinking, and the general lack ofprogression. She was just a dynamic woman. By the time our food came, I hardly had an appetite. I just wanted to listen to her. I kept wondering why she wasn’t married, or
at least
taken.
“So how did you wind up getting into the finance business?” I asked her. Before that night, I had only asked her about the business, and not how she got into it.
“It was just something that I found I could do well,” she answered, eating a tender salmon dish. I ordered steak, cooked well.
“Most of us never fully utilize our talents,” I told her. “I took piano lessons for about eight years, and just decided to give it up after high school. It just didn’t seem like a manly thing to do, you know. But sometimes I find myself daydreaming about continuing on with it, like Thelonious Monk or Herbie Hancock or somebody.”
“Oh,” Denise perked. “I
thought
your hands felt kind of soft for a
truck driver
. So, you’re a Mr. Piano, incognito.”
“Now, wait a minute, I didn’t say I was a pro,” I told her.
“You don’t have to be. Can you
play
the doggone thing?”
“Oh yeah, I can play. I just didn’t wanna get to lying on myself, having you think that I can
jam
on the thing. Because I’m not that good.”
“You’re better than me. I never played the piano a day in my life,” she told me. “We never owned one.”
“Well, in that case, I’m sure I can show you a thing or two, just to get you started with a little something.”
She gave me this long, mischievous grin that made me think of us together, naked. It was one of the many small hints I observed that told me Denise was definitely interested in me.
“I would like that,” she said.
I was certain that she would, but like she said before, we don’t always get what we want the first time around. I would have to go over what I knew before I even
thought
about showing her anything! I knew I would have been rusty.
I didn’t expect a kiss on the lips that night, but to my surprise, Denise gave me a wet one at her doorstep anyway.
“That’s for your effort,” she told me with a smile.
“All I ask is that we can do it again,” I responded.
She held my hand again and said, “Don’t worry. We will. I promise. It just might not be when you want, or when
I
want. It may be sometime in between.”
“Well, that’s what they say, ‘Real relationships are about compromise,’” I told her. “Okay then. I can agree to those terms.”
I went home alone that night and remembered it being the most pleasing closure of a first date that I ever had. It was maturity. I thought of Denise as a worthwhile mission, and I had my heart all the way into it. I had committed myself to going that extra mile for something,
someone
, I should say, who was definitely worth it.
Back on the road, my ten legal hours of driving were up. Larry and I had stopped at a truck station in Kentucky, ate some fattening fast food, and were ready to get back on our way to Orlando, Florida. It was close to nine o’clock at night, and time for Larry to do his part at the wheel.
“You ready, man?” I asked him.
He stretched and answered, “Yeah, I’m ready.”
I traded places with him and we got back on our way. Larry would get in these moods where he wouldn’t talk while driving,
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