The next Wednesday, Paul and Gabriella sat at a corner table by the window in Mike’s Diner. Paul waved their waitress over. Cindy was smiling and joking with all of her customers. The food at Mike’s Diner was only average, and there were other places within walking distance with better food, but Mike was careful to hire staff who enjoy people and who are quick thinkers on their feet. It was a handy trait to have in New York. Most of the business came in because of his staff, not the food.
Cindy walked over to their corner table by the front window and set down two single-page lunch menus. Mike preferred to print new paper menus every week. It kept customers coming in for fresh treats. He had seen too many small restaurants go out of business because they served the same food for years. Mike understood people like variety, even if the food itself isn’t quite four-star.
“We have a special on the vegan eggplant parm today. Anyone interested?” Cindy smiled at Paul, knowing from experience, he had a strong preference for beef.
“Sounds good to me! I’ll take it.” Paul replied energetically, making it clear he understood Cindy was playing with him, but he was up to the game. “Gee, when we came in, I hoped you would have vegan food today! I’m getting so tired of eating those juicy Angus beef patties!”
Both Gabriella and Cindy laughed. Cindy turned to Gabriella. “And you know what? I bet he’ll eat it to show me up! Wouldn’t it be funny if he actually liked it? And what would you like, my dear?”
“I’ll have a grilled cheese on rye and a cup of the bacon cheddar soup. Thanks.”
“And for drinks? Coffee?”
Paul quipped, “You mean life-blood, right? I’m about three cups low and have way too much blood in my coffee system.”
“Sure,” said Cindy. “A cup of bloody coffee for you. And for you, Gabriella?”
“I’ll have a diet cola. No ice, please.”
“Terrific, guys. I’ll put your order right in.” Cindy turned and walked away toward the kitchen.
“Paul, I have more questions. I’ll bet you’re not too surprised, right?”
“Lay it on me, lady. I’m ready and willing to take a shot at whatever you might ask this time. Go easy on me because I haven’t had lunch yet. It’s harder to think on an empty stomach. Sometimes it’s hard to think on a full one too. You might stand a better chance of getting a good answer from me if you wait until I finish eating half my meal.” Paul laughed.
“What am I going to do with you, Paul? Nothing, I guess. I like you just the way you are. So, okay, I notice a lot of the couples when I go to restaurants.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed you look at people a lot.”
“Some are older men with older women who look younger at first glance. I’m assuming they grew older together since most of them have wedding bands. I also notice a lot of older men accompanying younger women. Some have wedding bands, and some don’t.”
“Your point being…what?” interrupted Paul.
“The point is, it seems to be okay for an older man and a younger-looking woman to be together. Is it okay if a woman stays younger-looking as the man ages? Would it be okay with you?” Gabriella held her breath at the last question.
“I’m a little suspicious of your question.”
Gabriella’s eyes widened. “Why? It seems straightforward enough.”
“Exactly. It’s why I’m suspicious. Most of your questions address pretty deep subjects. This isn’t your normal pattern at all. What’s up?”
“It’s nothing. I wanted your opinion. So if you were much older, how would you feel about a companion that doesn’t show many signs of aging?”
“That would be okay. In fact, a lot of men would like it a lot.”
“But, I want your opinion relating to you, not what other men might like. That’s supposition. How about if there were almost no signs of aging? What would you think about it?”
“Gabriella, when you drive hard like this, I know there is something bigger rumbling around in your head. What issue are you trying to work out? What’s up?”
Gabriella looked down at the table for a few seconds. “Oh, you know how I get. I always have more questions. Always analytical about everything. It’s nothing, but you didn’t answer my question. What would you think about people aging very differently together?”
“Okay, let me think a minute,” Paul said as he looked at her worried face. What on earth is going on in that mind of hers? “Okay, I’ve got it. When an older man is in the company of a good looking older woman, he feels proud because she looks good. They look like a couple. Still look like they fit, even though the guy isn’t aging as well. They look like contemporaries.”
Cindy brought their lunch to the table. They smiled and thanked her. Cindy saw an in-depth conversation was going on and forwent her usual quips and banter. She delivered their food and left without speaking.
“How would it work if the woman, for some reason of genetics or something else, didn’t appear to age at all. What about then? Would the man still feel the same way?”
“Gabriella, you are some piece of work!”
“Yes, I’ve been told that, but would a man still feel the same way?”
Paul sighed and looked down again to think for a moment. He looked back up at Gabriella. “Well, to tell the truth, most men would not be comfortable with a partner who didn’t age. It’s a great men’s fantasy but wouldn’t work too well in the real world. It would be fantastic during the middle years of life, but as they got even older, it would become uncomfortable. Probably for both of them, but I don’t know much about women's feelings. At some point, instead of people thinking this is a lovely couple, they will begin to think he is a cradle-robber. Most folks would also assume he has a lot of money, and she’s a gold-digger or floozie of some sort. Going out in public could be difficult for them. Does that help at all?”
“Yes, it does,” Gabriella sighed, “but we had better eat before the food gets cold.”
Paul inspected his plate of eggplant. The chef cut the eggplant lengthwise into three-eighths inch thick strips and appeared covered with a homemade hamburger meat sauce. The whole dish nestled under a layer of cheese lightly browned under the broiler. Paul inspected his food and cut off a bite.
“It looks like Cindy had some mercy on me and gave me the real thing instead of the vegan dish. She’s something else. This is very good.”
“And how did you find your eggplant parm, Paul?” Cindy asked when she returned to check on them.
“Oh, it was easy. It was right here under the cheese and sauce.” Paul grinned.
Cindy rolled her eyes at his humor. “You had better leave me an extra tip today, buddy-boy.”
“Seriously, though, Cindy, it’s great. Thanks for switching to the real meat dish. I was going to eat the vegan stuff to poke at you a little, but I appreciate the switch.”
Cindy shook her head and looked at Gabriella. “Your boyfriend is a nice, good-looking guy, but he doesn’t know squat about food, does he? He’s eating the vegan version. See, sometimes you can’t tell the fake from the real thing, right?”
Gabriella winced and tried not to have her smile fade much. “Very true, Cindy. Very true.” She shook her head slightly. “But are they always the fake? Can’t they be the same thing, only made of different materials and put together differently? Aren’t they both the real things in their own way? Does one have to be the not real one, or inferior to the other?”
Both Paul and Cindy pulled back. They knew some sort of nerve had been struck but were dumbfounded how they suddenly transitioned from eggplant parm to hurt feelings. Paul tenuously reached his hand across the table in concern and lightly touched Gabriella’s hand with his fingertips.
Cindy stammered but came back using her best New York recovery. “Well, they are both real and delicious. Both stand on their own merit. They are made differently, as you said, but both are of equal value.” Cindy paused and smiled to lighten the mood. “It’s why we charge the same for both of them.”
“Thanks, Cindy. I needed to hear that. You’re quite the philosopher.”
“Precisely why I make the big bucks. So did you guys leave any room for dessert? Mike’s cooked up some pretty great New York cheesecake. I think he’s expecting a Yanks win over the Sox on Saturday.”
“No, we’re good for now,” both Paul and Gabriella responded.
Paul added, “I’ll bet the dessert special by Sunday will be Boston crème pie.”
“Oh gosh, don’t let Mike hear you say that! I want a peaceful weekend here.” They promised to come back soon and try some of whatever the dessert special turns out to be. Cindy smiled and said she would hold them to their promise.
“You can always tell a compatible couple,” Cindy commented. She dropped the check on the table equidistant between the two of them. They both noticed Cindy used a large letter ‘C’ in her signature to make a little happy face drawing.
Paul started reaching for the check, but Gabriella was a hair faster and snatched it up before he could grab it. She laughed and said since he paid the last tab, this one was on her. He protested but realized she was not only a woman who had a great sense of fairness, but she was also incredibly stubborn when she made up her mind.
Paul glanced at the tip Gabriella laid on the table, reached into his pocket, and casually tossed down a few more dollars.
“Why did you do that?” Gabriella asked. “I left a fifteen percent tip.”
“Yes, you did, but Cindy did an outstanding job, and we wouldn’t want to support the idea Christians are the worst restaurant tippers in the world, now would we?”
Gabriella asked for clarification. Paul explained some servers purposely avoided serving Christians because they knew there was a good chance they would not receive much of a tip.
“It seems brotherly love only flows down to the edges of the wallet, and no further,” Paul said. Gabriella thanked him and made a note to show gratitude in more substantial ways.
“Dinner was fun. We need to do this again soon,” Paul invited.
“Would you and Alexi like to come to my place for dinner next Wednesday?”
“We would love to. What can I bring?”
“Just yourselves. I’ll do the cooking, if it doesn’t scare you.”
“No, I think it would take more than that to scare me away. We’ll be there. Let me check with my assistant and have her call you to work out the time. We should get going now, though.”
Outside, Gabriella turned and gave Paul a kiss on his cheek.
“What was that for?” asked a startled Paul.
“I felt like kissing you. Was it okay? Did I do something wrong?”
“No, nothing wrong at all.”
“Good. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
Paul walked back to his office at the Christian Fellowship Church on Thirty-Seventh Avenue. He let his feet find their own way back home. He could feel the outline of Gabriella’s lips on his cheek the entire way.