Chapter Text
Rebecca was at the restaurant early. She liked to read the menu, get a sense for the flow, know where the bathroom was. Figure out what she was going to do with her purse if it was one of those places with skinny little cafe chairs. Once upon a time she would have never arrived to a date first. Keep them waiting, her mama had told her. Don’t appear too eager. But at this point in her life she looked at dating as a series of filters. If punctuality or her actually wanting to attend were turn-offs, better to find that out right away and move on.
Happily the restaurant he had picked had booths, comfortable, high-backed and private. The seats were made of a soft, well-tended material that wasn’t cracked or stained, and there was plenty of room for her purse and a bag from some shopping she’d done on the way. In between the booths were hooks and she hung her long, faun-colored coat there. She appreciated an establishment that considered the comfort of its guests, and his picking it bumped him up in her estimation.
She’d said no to this date at least four times in her head before she finally said yes. A doctor, wouldn’t mama twirl herself onto the nearest flat surface with glee over that. But an ER doctor? Sounded like long hours and sad stories to her. Her cousin’s friend had insisted he was worth taking a chance on, though. Of course, she was the head nurse at that same ER, but she was also one of those women who could gesture at you with a glass of wine and convince you she had your number, and Rebecca had been convinced. Dana had won her over with her honesty; yes, he’s a bit battle-worn, but also guard dog loyal, eye-wateringly clever, and the smartest guy she’d ever met. Just spend a little time getting past his defenses, Dana had implored. He’s a treasure just waiting for someone willing to dive deep enough.
Rebecca had sighed and shook her head, because was she really looking to date a scuba diving expedition? But her time on the apps had been—well, she had been told “soul-crushing” sounded hyperbolic, but unsatisfying at least, and Stephen had set a date with the stockbroker so…she’d agreed. Now here she was, checking her lipstick in her phone camera, hopefully surreptitiously, and wondering if he would want two appetizers because she was starving.
Just then she heard a gentle throat-clearing behind her and a man walked past her into view. Fuck. She’d specifically sat facing the door, but he’d snuck up on her and her clandestine makeup inspection anyway. Not the first impression she was hoping for. Rallying, she slammed her phone down and stood, taking him in.
He reached out a large, graceful hand. “Rebecca. I’m so happy to finally meet you. I’m Michael. Sorry if I caught you by surprise there, I was just saying hi to the chef, she was a patient.” He wore a blue-gray suit over a light blue shirt, open at the throat, a thin gold chain peeking through. It seemed a little incongruous given the frigid weather but it brought a light to his face that was very appealing. He was taller than her 5’10”; not a requirement by any means, but nice. He had a beard that looked a little shaggy, but soft, and extremely kind eyes, the sort of eyes you’d want looking back at you on your worst day. He looked his age; this was no pretty boy, but he was handsome and sturdy across the shoulders. When he smiled she had to remind herself this was a first date.
“It’s great to meet you, Michael. Dana has really sung your praises. I almost expected you to be accompanied by the heavenly host.” They sat, and he blushed, and she had to stop herself from wondering just how far below the collar that blush might run. She wasn’t here to let her emotions run away with her; she’d done that before and ended up divorced. Did he have a steady income, were they comfortable talking to each other, was he a Republican, would he leave her the minute her neck started to crepe; these were useful questions to consider in a potential partner. The blood flow to his various capillaries and how she might influence it by word or deed had to be way down the list. She wasn’t 26 with all the time in the world.
“Dana is a wonderful friend and a terrible saleswoman. Aren’t you supposed to under-promise and over-deliver?” Robby asked, scratching at his bright pink hairline and opening the menu. His eyes darted to Rebecca and then down to the page.
Rebecca smiled, happy to have retrieved the upper hand from the jaws of embarrassment. “Well, Michael, the night is young. Now. What are your thoughts on coconut shrimp?”
They chatted easily, flexing between banter and the semi-serious stuff of real life smoothly. Robby seemed to know just how much of his job to share, giving her a sense for how he spent his days without turning the date into a therapy session or a horror show. She likewise knew that most people would make interested noises when she said she was a director of engineering for a small tech startup, but their interest ended well before the “engineering” began.
They dipped the daintiest of toes into past relationships; her, divorced, no kids; him, never married, which was a bit of a red flag at their age, but a long-term enough relationship that he was still involved with the child who he clearly considered a pseudo stepson. Michael’s face lit up when he talked about Jake, and by the time he was inviting her to his baseball team’s opening day she decided that it wasn’t fear of commitment, specifically, that had kept him from the altar. Something else, then.
He was charming and as smart as advertised and not remotely a Republican. The hours did sound rough but it wasn’t like she didn’t enjoy some time to herself; perhaps it could be a blessing in disguise.
As they walked outside together, she had already made up her mind to accept a second date. She felt confident she was listening to both her head and her heart; everything about him spoke to an innate goodness that had perhaps just not been very well cared for in recent years. She thought they could be just what the other needed.
The air was so cold it was like walking through glass. He pulled on sleek gray gloves and took her hand casually, like it was a well-worn habit. “Hey, it’s not that late. There’s a wine bar near here…nightcap?” She nodded, feeling her nose pink up as she did. Makeup was really a lost cause in the face of a Pittsburgh winter.
On the way there he suggested they stop by his place so he could find a Jeff Buckley bootleg he had offered to lend her and she agreed, curious for the early glimpse into how he lived. On the way up in the elevator he turned to her. “I should mention, I have a roommate. It’s a temporary situation, he’s recovering at my place after a car accident. He’ll probably be asleep, but, just in case.” She nodded and wrinkled her nose when he turned away. Was it temporary? A roommate did not sound ideal. Would they be putting a sock on the door?
When they entered the apartment it was quiet and dark, no sign of this mystery man. Michael turned on a light over the little dining table and offered her a seat. “Just give me a minute, ok? Do you want a glass of water?” Rebecca nodded and he walked past her into the still dim kitchen, which was really part of the same room. He stood in front of the cabinets and stopped, looking down. She watched him, curious. Rather than get a glass, he leaned down close over the counter and then pulled away, reaching his long limbs out a little wildly until he found the light switch. “What the…” he muttered, and then he looked at his feet. “Shit!” he yelled.
Rebecca jumped up. “Michael, what’s wrong?” But he pushed past her into the next room.
“Rebecca, it’s ok, just please stay there, ok?” He didn’t look back. She heard him opening and closing a door, crying out, sounding truly frightened, “Jack!”
Rebecca crinkled her brow and leaned carefully forward, wanting to see what it was that had thrown this sweet, seemingly unflappable man so thoroughly. At first she couldn’t see anything, but when she craned a bit deeper, there it was. Splashed across the counter and dramatically across the floor.
Blood.