OK.
Kate sucked in her breath. It was done. She was committed now. Or at least in some way she felt honor bound. He’d asked and she had accepted. It didn’t matter that part of her was already dreading it, she knew herself well enough to know she wouldn’t back down at this point.
Okay. Yes. Good. Tomorrow night?
OK.
I’m sensing your enthusiasm in your single word responses. LOL. You name the place. I live in the city. An apartment in the Northern Liberties area.
Kate didn’t know much about Philadelphia. Despite having lived just across the bridge for most of her life, she rarely made it to the city except for the occasional girls’ night out when they wanted to be adventurous.
No, most of her time was spent between her office building and her home in Haddonfield. She’d heard about the renaissance of the Northern Liberties area. Apparently a lot of cool new restaurants and bars.
I work just over the bridge in South Jersey. Easy for me to get to the city. Is there some place you like around you?
McGlinn’s. Great place, great atmosphere, great French fries.
French fries were a particular weakness for Kate.
Ok. McGlinn’s. 8ish?
Yes. I can’t wait.
Kate smiled. She wished she could say the same, but already the questions started to race through her mind. Would he think she would automatically go back to his place with him? Would he expect sex because of what they had shared?
Would he be, as Sally described, a creepy ugly troll in real life?
She didn’t know, but she knew the only way to find out was to go and see.
See you then.
Hey Kate… don’t chicken out okay?
I NEVER chicken out.
LOL. Okay. Tomorrow.
She didn’t feel the need to write any more. The date and time and place were set. Now it was just a question of meeting him. Kate let a small smile play around her lips. After everything she had been feeling earlier, the only thing she could identify swirling in her stomach felt a lot like hope.
John stared down at his phone and knew that if he could see himself in a mirror he would have the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. He had a date. With a woman who looked like Kate. Who he had felt so freaking connected to last night. This never happened to him.
A moment of pure happiness.
Then the smile faded as he thought about what a date meant. Especially a first date. Lots of questions. About his life, his story.
His past.
Someplace he didn’t want to go. Was it a requirement, he wondered? Like filling out a job application? Did he have to tell her he’d spent time in jail? Was it only fair that he include that as part of his life story?
He could only imagine where her mind would go after that.
Swell. I’m on a date with a convicted criminal. Way to go, Kate.
The first thing she would wonder was what he did to get himself in there. His words of innocence, an asshole cop giving him a hard time and too much booze, would probably fall on deaf ears.
Everyone in jail thought they had been mistreated by the system.
For John it was simply an event. It happened. He had to do eight months of time inside, with twelve months of parole following his release.
Since then he’d kept his nose clean. He’d been able to find work on the Philadelphia Ferry System, and during the summer it was just him and his commercial fishing boat. The fish didn’t care that he’d seen the inside of a cell.
She would. She would worry about him getting violent with her after he told her the story. She would worry about drug use and possibly his sexual history and exposure to STD’s.
He could tell her that not every man who went inside was a candidate for rape. He could tell her he’d never done drugs on the outside, and wasn’t looking to pick up a habit on the inside. He could tell her that he basically spent eight months reading any book he could get his hands on and catching up on sleep.
Would it matter?
Don’t tell her.
It was simple enough. Avoid that two-year period of his life—hell, it was six years ago now—and tell her about everything else. Then if there was a second date or a third, he could be honest with her. She would know what kind of man he was by then and she could decide for herself if she could be with someone who had a criminal record.
Hell, if she got to know him, realized what kind of man he was, and decided it still mattered to her, then that wasn’t anyone he wanted to be with anyway. John was no damn snob. He knew good men, he knew bad men and he was probably somewhere in between. He didn’t spend his life judging other people and he sure as hell would not tolerate being judged by someone who didn’t understand the circumstances.
Then he shook his head. He was overthinking the shit out of this. It was a freaking blind date and nothing else. She could be nothing like her picture. Her personality could be nothing like how he had… what was the right word… read?
Because that’s all they had done so far. Typed things to each other. Intimate things. True things.
Lonely?