The roads were wet when Lenny drove from his aunt’s house. It didn’t rain often in Southern California, but when it did, the roads were dangerous. It was not the wet pavement that created the hazard, but the inexperienced drivers that drove their cars at erratic speeds and lost control on the slippery turns or, more usually, caused accidents behind them by breaking suddenly. Lenny’s mind was not on the roads, however. He drove cautiously, staying entirely in the right lane, and choosing a route that would both take him the longest time to get where he was driving, and leave him with an acceptable excuse and an honest route that wouldn’t raise too many questions if interrogated. Samantha sometimes did that. He felt reasonably sure that she wouldn’t this time, especially in front of Stacy and whatever loser she dragged to dinner this night. But he didn’t want to take any chances and continued with his convoluted route.

Lenny had promised Samantha that he would meet her and Stacy and possibly her date at Tully’s Italian Restaurant. Tully was not an Italian name, and, as usually happens with restaurants that cook cuisines unfamiliar to its owners, the food was a mismatch of greasy Italian food and overcooked Greek food, leaving it in a space outside of the normal California organic cuisine. Lenny grew up eating health foods before it became popular and an almost required cuisine. When the organic fad hit a few years ago, Lenny resisted the conversion, attempting to find restaurants that served health foods that were not organic, or inorganic, as he jokingly referred to it. He questioned what inorganic food could be—perhaps a slab of asphalt with a side of rock, or iron steak smothered in sulfuric acid. He eventually succumbed to organic food, since he found that it was better for his stomach, which rebelled often when he ate greasy and especially inorganic foods. Samantha and Stacy were remorseless meat eaters, and they searched long and wide for the greasiest spoons in California. There weren’t many high-class places that served greasy food in California, but Lenny was relatively certain that he now had visited most of them. This was his second trip to Tully’s Italian Restaurant, and he was not looking forward to it.

The air blowing through his open windows was chilly and for a moment he was grateful for the sweater. His mind changed quickly when he looked down at it and remembered what it looked like. The neck was beginning to scratch him. He had planned to change out of the sweater when he got in the car, but forgot about it. He had plenty of time to take it off before he met up with Samantha. He was sure Samantha would have a good laugh from the sweater. It would be a better laugh if he left it on, but he decided not to subject himself to that type of ridicule.

Lenny arrived at the restaurant and skipped the valet parking, choosing to drive around searching for a parking spot. He found one quicker than he had hoped, and decided to check the pressure in his tires before heading into the restaurant. He told himself it was better to be safe than sorry and risk a flat. The rain had stopped but the roads were still slick and he knew how bad the drivers were in this area. After ensuring that all the tires measured thirty-four pounds of pressure per square inch, he decided that he could no longer put off the inevitable. He didn’t know how he would explain to Samantha that he had decided that this was a good time to get a haircut when she asked what took him so long.

As he opened the door to the restaurant, he remembered that he had once again forgotten to change out of the sweater. Samantha and Stacy waved at him from their table and he raised his hand in response. He thought about turning around and retrieving his t-shirt from the car, but it was probably too late. Samantha was observant and he was sure she saw the sweater.

The hostess at the front desk gave him a strange look. Lenny was used to such looks. In a city where fashion was as important as the car you drove he was not a sharp dresser, preferring blue jeans and t-shirts to real clothing. Wearing such urban clothing reminded him of his college days, when the only clothing he owned was paint splattered and he considered it a bad day when his fingernails weren’t blackened. When the hostess finally acknowledged him, he pointed to Samantha and Stacy and the host nodded. She whispered something to the manager, who gave a disapproving nod. The hostess escorted him to Samantha’s table and held the chair for him.

“There you are,” Samantha said. Lenny looked down and smiled. She stood up and gave him a hug. Lenny greeted Stacy and realized that the table was set only for three. That was not a good sign. At least when Stacy brought one of her loser dates, he had a male at the table to talk to. When she brought nobody, Stacy usually spent the entire time complaining about not having a date. Lenny sat down in the vacant seat next to Samantha.

As Lenny whipped out his napkin, Samantha leaned back in her chair. “What is that?”

“What?” Lenny said, hoping that Samantha was referring to anything but the pink sweater, but knowing that was impossible. He decided that perhaps he could have fun with it. There was no reason to force the issue, particularly in front of Stacy. It is going to be difficult for Samantha to believe that his aunt gave him the sweater. She appreciated his aunt’s impeccable taste more than he did.

“That thing you’re wearing. What is it? Is that a sweater?”

“This old thing? I’ve had it in the closet for ages. You must have seen me wear this before. I think I even wore it when we had dinner with Stacy a few weeks ago. Didn’t Andy join us that night?”

“Don’t even bring up that bastard,” Stacy said, falling neatly into Lenny’s trap. Samantha seethed quietly in her chair while Stacy complained about Andy. Lenny cut into the sourdough bread loaf and liberally spread butter on his piece. He smiled at Samantha. “Can you believe that Andy text messaged me an ‘I love you’ message? He couldn’t even say it. I called him up and he asked if I received his message.”

“I’m sure you denied it,” Samantha chimed in.

“Of course I denied it. I wanted him to actually say it to me for the first time. What is wrong with men?” Stacy looked at Lenny but didn’t wait for a response. “He sent it three times. The third time, I telephoned him to tell him I received it, and you know what he said?”

“What?” Stacy said.

“He asked if I had something to tell him. I was like, I might have something to tell you if you have something to tell me. And he was like, didn’t you get my message? I said I did. And he said, well? And you know what the bastard said? He said I was ungrateful and an unloving bitch. Those are his words exactly. He’s the reason I’m here alone tonight. I told him that if that’s how he wants to treat me, perhaps we shouldn’t see each other again.”

“Men are dogs,” Samantha said. Stacy nodded in agreement and took a deep drink from her umbrella-laden glass. Lenny chewed contently on his bread during the exchange. That’s one way to reflect the Samantha’s attention from the pink sweater. Lenny waited for Samantha to start offering advice and consolation to Stacy, but she turned and faced Lenny instead.

“So, about that sweater, did you lose a bet again?”

Lenny stopped chewing. “Stacy, isn’t there more you want to tell us about Andy? Wasn’t he a sports writer or something? Maybe he expressed himself only through writing and was not a good talker. Perhaps you were too hard on him?”

“This will be much more fun, Stacy. Trust me. I bet the bet was with Jake? Get this, Stacy, the last time Lenny here lost a bet with Jake it was a doosy. Let me see if I get this right—I’m sure you’ll correct me if I leave out a detail, dear. It was over a client Lenny and Jake were trying to woo. They put on the beauty pageant presentation—don’t they just have the cutest names for their business ventures—and Lenny, being the eternal, sky-must-be-falling-because-I’m-walking-under-it pessimist, was sure that they would not get the account. Jake bet Lenny that they had impressed the marketing folks of the—I think the account was for a chocolate company, right?”

“A vanilla-extract company, but please do go on.” Stacy leaned over the table and watched with a suppressed grin on her face. Lenny could only guess what discussions they had before he arrived. He knew they involved men. And since they hadn’t spoken about Andy, he was pretty sure he was the unlucky victim.

“Yes, a vanilla company. For losing the bet, this cute little man here—”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t use little when describing me.”

“Of course dear, this cute little, well-hung man, shaved a mullet in his hair and had to wear it for a month! At the time, his hair was long enough for such a drastic cut. I swear, I almost dumped him halfway through that month. I refused to be seen in public unless he wore a hat.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was terrible. What did your bet involve this time?”

“It was a gift.”

“From whom? Do you have a secret admirer that you’re keeping from me? Perhaps you have a secret admirer with awful taste.”

“Aunt Elaine.”

While Aunt Elaine liked Samantha well enough, Samantha was always nervous around her. Samantha got along well with Lenny’s mother and the two had become fast friends. But his aunt’s wittiness and outrageous personality made Samantha nervous. She tried hard to prove herself to his aunt, and while his aunt never said anything negative about Samantha, Lenny always felt that Samantha’s attempts to impress her had resulted in the opposite feeling in his aunt.

“There’s no way your aunt purchased that sweater for you.”

Now that the conversation shifted from belittling Lenny, Stacy seemed less interested in what they were saying. She began studying the menu.

“You’re right, she didn’t purchase it. She knitted it with her gnarled hands.”

“You’re joking.”

“No. Do you think I would be wearing this if I was joking?”

“Why would she knit such an ugly thing? I thought her constitution couldn’t support manual labor. And that nasty shade of pink? I could understand a lighter pink, but that? I’m not even sure that qualifies as a pink.”

Under the restaurant’s light, the sweater did look darker, more reddish than Lenny remembered. Large crystal chandeliers hung from various points along the ceiling and gave off a dull yellowed light. Like most of the restaurant’s décor, the chandeliers looked out of place. The red and white checkered tablecloths and woven bread baskets were the only Italian influence in the place. The French chandeliers, Greek sculptures, and Spanish musical instruments added an eclectic and disorienting feel to the restaurant.

“I have no idea. At first, I thought she was putting me on. Once she held up her hands for my inspection after I doubted that she knitted the sweater, I was sure that she had some ulterior motive, some great joke that she was going to spring on me. But the strange thing is she became very serious when I started joking around with her. Not serious in her cynical way, but I felt that there was something she wanted to tell me and didn’t. Something very important but she—I don’t know.” Lenny glanced at Stacy then turned back to Samantha. “Maybe she’s just losing it. She is getting older.”

Samantha grinned. “I don’t think that’s possible. That old hag is going to outlast all of us and she’ll dance on my grave, if I read her right.”

“You’re too hard on yourself. She likes you. You just have to stop trying to impress her and be yourself. She’ll like you just as much as I do.”

“And how much is that?”

“A whole bunch.”

”A bunch of what?”

“A whole bunch.”

“Well,” Stacy said, “this conversation has taken a most disgusting turn. Sam, you promised that if I came to dinner tonight with you, you weren’t going to get all mushy on me. It’s bad enough that Andy’s not here. And you know I’m still in a healing period.”

“Stacy,” Samantha said, “you’re always in a healing period. You just need to get out there and lasso another guy to bring to our couple’s dinners. Lenny needs someone else to talk to. Do you see what happens to him when he hangs out with us girls?” Samantha pulled on his pink sweater and the three of them laughed.

Word count: 2,205

Words left: 45,745

Time: 2 hours

Caffeination: 2 Vanilla Cokes

Feeling: Writing is coming out easier (but no better)