The date was turning from bad to worse, to Gerald's dismay. He and Alayne had long since given up their petty attempts at conversation, lapsing into the most uncomfortable of silences. Gerald was now carefully examining the same bit of wallpaper over and over again, trying to keep a suave, cool expression plastered onto his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Alayne twiddling with her dark bangs and charting the voyage of a fly across the table. Gerald liked the way the sun seemed to set behind her head outside the window. God, she was so beautiful. Her friendly, freckled face would spring into life when she smiled. Sometimes Gerald would say something funny just to make her smile.
As he watched her, she suddenly looked up and their eyes met. Gerald's eyes darted downward instantly, smoking from the contact, drilling holes into the red cast iron napkin dispenser. Red, he thought furiously, red, red, red, red, red. Then he dared to look up again. Alayne was staring at the next table. A couple sat across a table identical to theirs, their faces close, whispering to each other and holding hands. Then their lips met and remained together. Gerald and Alayne became aware of each other watching and turned awkwardly away. The silence dragged on, an agony to Gerald. He now had a superior knowledge of the wallpaper by his seat.
Finally he could take no more. Say something, fool, the more anal portion of his mind commanded him, as a parent commands a child. Gerald prepared to say something intelligent and alluring.
"How do you like your English class?" he said. I give up, said his mind.
So, for the next five minutes, they discussed the pros and cons of Alayne's English class. The conversation proceeded in jumps. Gerald would ask another question, and Alayne would answer it with a careless shrug, making no attempt to fuel the conversation. Finally, he gave up. Alayne put her chin on her elbow and began to hum. The food hadn't even arrived yet. Gerald sighed inwardly.
The date hadn't exactly begun well, either. Alayne had only agreed to go out with him because he had asked her in front of all their friends. She had looked extremely uncomfortable, but Jennie and Sarah and Jeff had urged her on, and she accepted. Really it was a dirty trick of Gerald to ask her out in front of Sarah, who was a hopeless romantic, but Gerald, one has to understand, was a fairly desperate lad. He wanted Alayne more than anything, and was not above certain sly tricks.
Anyway, he had gone to pick Alayne up, tripped into her house over the doorstep, and nearly broke his front teeth in the process. The roses he had brought for her, free of Gerald's sweaty hand, had scattered throughout her house like frightened squirrels. That was another thing...... Alayne had been very surprised that Gerald had brought her flowers. Had she been expecting a more platonic date? Gerald hadn't known, but did not consider her reaction to his gift a good sign. No, not a good sign at all. Then he had been driving her to the restaurant, and she'd had to warn him twice to watch the road. Both times he'd crossed the center line because he'd glanced at her. Poor Gerald.
As they were arriving at Bickford's and sitting down at their table, Gerald had tried to spark conversations with Alayne about one inane thing or another. Really, he was trying to gauge her attitude toward him. Basically, whether she wanted him or not. God, he hated not knowing. Why did it always have to be the guy who made the advances? Why not the girl? Why..... why?...... WHHHHHYYYYYY? Poor Gerald.
And so here they were, sitting in silence. Gerald was painfully aware of the lack of communication. He was now using the silence to study Alayne intently. She saw him looking at her; gave a little half smile of embarrassment, tilted her head away and kept on humming. Gerald's heart soared. She liked him!!! Hold the phone, his pessimistic mind said, she smiles a lot, remember; she smiles at everyone. Sheesh. Gerald's mind had been running in circles like this the whole date, like a gerbil in a cage, alternating between joy and crushing despair.
So he did the only thing left to do. He hummed along with her. She looked up and smiled at him. That was encouraging, so Gerald kept doing it. Soon they shifted to a different song and tried to hum in harmony. After awhile, Alayne began to laugh, and Gerald did, too. And with that, the ice was broken. They were no longer a "boy and girl on a date", they were friends again. And finally they began to talk, talk of their week, of their classes, tell jokes. They both agreed it was silly that they had been so uptight before. Like two people coming in out of the cold, they began slowly to become more animated, to gesture more. For Gerald's part, he was relieved that they were talking again. He began telling her of about something funny that had happened to him on the way to pick her up, and noticed how intent upon his story she seemed. She's having a good time, now, he noticed, she's enjoying my company, and with that came the inevitable thought, so does she want me, or what?
Now at this point most of Gerald's mind was screaming for him to let well enough alone; he was lucky to have a great friend like Alayne, a wonderful human being who so obviously cared about him and liked to spend time with him. Why not just stay friends and have a wonderful dinner? Yes, why not, indeed? Why not be thankful that the awful silence, the tensions between them had melted? Why not let it be?
But the other part of Gerald's mind, the romantic, hormone-infested part, could not let well enough alone. Look at her, it said to him, she's beautiful. Look at the way her eyes fall shyly when she laughs at your jokes. Look at the way her hair falls in a copper cloud about her white shoulders. She wants you, Gerald. If your friendship is this rewarding, imagine how beautiful a relationship could be between the two of you. IMAGINE it, Gerald. Gerald imagined. He looked at Alayne as she told him of the minor fight she and her mother were in. And he decided. Maybe it was hunger pangs (the food still hadn't arrived), or maybe it was stupidity, or maybe it was.....destiny. He had to tell her how he felt for her. And what would follow would be in the hands of Cupid himself.
The conversation went on, lazily, dancing over this and that. Gerald waited patiently for the end of one topic and the beginning of another. Now that he had committed himself his nerves were alive, like a disturbed bee hive. They made his hands shake, his heart beat faster. They threatened to strangle him with anxiety. And yet, the more nervous he became, the more beautiful Alayne became.
Finally he saw his moment. Alayne had told a joke and they both laughed then were silent for a moment, content.
All of Gerald's terror; his nervousness, and love for her spilled over in one word: "Alayne", he said. And he must have sounded so nervous saying it that Alayne paused, and looked up at him. "Yes?" she said. Her eyes seemed to swallow him up.
Gerald had had a beautiful speech prepared, but all that came out was "I really like you a lot, you know." And that phrase, unromantic and ambiguous, hung in the air between them for an agonizing moment. It could have meant many things, but Alayne got Gerald's message. The world trembled on the brink.
And then Alayne broke his heart. First a funny look came onto her face. She struggled to think of something to say. But there was no joyful smile, no beautiful embrace, no "I like you a lot too," spoken through with a shy yet ecstatic voice. She was trying to think of the easiest way to let him down. Even before she spoke, Gerald felt black despair crowd the edge of his vision. And then Alayne began to speak, and her every word fell like a sledgehammer. If the romantic part of his mind had had a body, it would have sat down heavily, it's jaw dropped and it's face pale.
"Gerald.....I.....don't know what to say, I mean I sort of knew you liked me, and I think Sarah and Jennie and Robert knew, too. You're a great friend, Gerald, and one of the nicest guys I know. But I don't see us together........I'm sorry."
Oceans boiled, mountains crashed; the sun fell and the moon exploded. Gerald had been transformed to an iron statue, could only sit still and not speak as his exposed emotions were cut to pieces. Alayne talked further, about how sorry she was, that she didn't want to hurt him, that she still really liked him. Finally, she said "I'm sorry." After all, what else could she say?
Gerald wanted to tell her how sorry he was that he had put her in this position, but he was concentrating on not crying, and if he spoke, he would lose control. "I'm sorry, too", he finally managed. What's wrong with me?, he wanted to scream at her. Why not me? Alayne's bright eyes were now poisonous to him. They held no love for him, they reserved that for some other man. Gerald had never so quickly and completely plunged from hope to despair. He looked over at Alayne, who, he could see, wanted to comfort him, but he could not let her; that would be even more humiliating. He had to finish this date as gracefully as he could and then go home and.... whatever.
The waitress chose that moment to arrive with their food. "So, how are you lovebirds doin' today?" she inquired with a nasal voice. She beamed at both of them. Gerald didn't move. Alayne smiled, embarrassed, and looked at her plate. The waitress, not sensing what was going on, cheerily put their food in front of them, and continued to speak, "So 'dya buy her flowahs, honey? What, he didn't buy you nothin'? Why didncha buy her nothin?" Gerald, with all the strength left in him, managed a shrug. People from other tables were looking curiously at them. His humiliation was now complete. The waitress chewed gum at them for a few seconds, then, just now beginning to sense something was up, walked slowly away. Gerald put his head in his hands. Finally they both turned to their food, relieved for the diversion.
They somehow got through the rest of the date and the drive home. Gerald, after dropping her off, paced around his house, mired in rage, despair, humiliation, love. Then he went back to Bickford's, taking only his car keys and a .44 Magnum. He walked into the restaurant, his face stern and his eyes seething with madness and rage. "THIS....." he bellowed in voice that sent little kids screaming and adults pale. Then everyone screamed when he raised the Magnum. But his voice carried above them all. "THIS.......IS THE PLACE WHERE MY DREAMS DIED! THIS IS WHERE ALL HOPE, ALL GOODNESS LEFT ME......FOREVER!!!" And with that, Gerald began to shoot people. He shot the waitress who had brought them their food. She collapsed over a diner with a huge red hole through her abdomen. Gerald shot more people, picking off anyone who had witnessed the scene between himself and Alayne. Finally, when he heard police sirens blaring outside the restaurant, he turned the gun on himself and sank gratefully into oblivion.
Too bad I don't have a .44 Magnum, Gerald thought ruefully as he sat on the couch in his living room, feeling sorry for himself. He had just finished crying about Alayne one more time, and it seemed he could not squeeze out another tear. It was time to mollify his sorrow and watch a good movie or call an old friend or something.
Someone knocked on the door. Alayne. Gerald's heart soared once more and his hormones flooded back through his system with a rush. He opened the door and Alayne, beautiful Alayne, fell into his arms.
"Oh, Gerald, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, forgive me. I went home and thought about it, thought about what I was giving up." With that, she looked up at him. Her wide green eyes beckoned him. He bent his face down to hers, feeling their lips, their souls, join forever. He held her body tighter and whispered, "Nothing to be forgiven Alayne, I love you, I-"
Gerald shook himself. These daydreams were killing him. Honestly and truly. He did a mental checkup. Still sane, he thought, still here, I just still love Alayne, that's all. He sighed, a deep sigh, that seemed to flush some of the despair through his body and out. Then he went and ate a big supper and watched a good movie. When he would think about that day much later, after he found happiness again, he would simply consider it a bad date. He hoped.