Page 70 of Two Chances With You

“Why not? I’ll give you a copy of it right away.”

“My compliments. In any case, it’s an excellent idea.”

“That’s not all, but if you’re careful, you can even get the same kind of lesson every week, the only thing is you have to make friends with the instructors because, sooner or later, they’re bound to figure it out.”

“So what do you do about that?”

“After the lesson, you buy them a couple of Gatorades, you lay out your financial difficulties, and off you sail, free as a bird. It’s just wonderful and, really, easy as pie.”

“Is there anyone else you know who’s using this method?”

The waiter returns. “Here you are, the Ace for the signorina and for you, signore, the small white pizza and the Coca-Cola.” The waiter sets it all down at the center of the table, placing a check under the faux-silver tray and walking away.

“No, I don’t think so.” Gin bites into a large potato chip and eats it. Then, laughing, she covers her mouth with her hand. “At least I hope not.” And so we continue chatting, laughing, and trying to figure out what else we have in common.

“Come on, you’ve never been outside of Europe?” I ask.

“No, Greece, England, France, once even in Germany for the Oktoberfest with a couple of girlfriends.”

“I’ve been to Oktoberfest myself.”

“Seriously? When?”

“In 2002,” I tell her.

“Me too. But the most absurd thing about the whole trip is that one of my girlfriends was a teetotaler. You can’t imagine what she turned into. She ordered a one-liter stein of beer, you know the goblets I’m talking about, brimming over, the ones they wash in those giant basins. She tips back half of it, and before half an hour goes by, she’s dancing some sort of tarantella on top of a table. Just a disaster.”

I watch her as she drinks the Ace. There was a girl dancing on a table in the beer hall we went to. But that evening I think everybody was dancing on tables at the Oktoberfest. I remember that when I told Babi that I was going to Munich with Pollo and Schello and another carful of friends, she got insanely angry.“So, you’re going to Munich, and what about me?”

“You’re not coming. It’s a guy trip.”

“Ah, really? We’ll see about that.”

And then that asshole, Manetta, in the other car, what did he decide to do? He shows up with his girlfriend. And when we get back, furious arguments about it with Babi because, naturally, like everything else, sooner or later, that fact became general knowledge.

“What are you thinking about?”

I lie. “About your friend who danced on the table. You should have filmed her. You would have laughed afterward.”

“But we laughed like fools while it was happening. What good is afterward? What matters is now.” And she takes another sip of Ace, glancing at me knowingly.

Ouch, what’s that supposed to mean? Things look bad. Very bad. Gin wants things “now.” But not now, not this instant, not yet. But maybe tomorrow.

“What are you thinking about? Still thinking about my girlfriend dancing on the table? I doubt that. If you ask me, you met someone at the Oktoberfest, and you’re thinking back to one of your escapades.”

“You’re seeing it all wrong.”

“I’m seeing it perfectly. I’ve got twenty-twenty vision.”

I look around and I’m in luck. Behind me is the waiter, who smiles. I hadn’t noticed him.

“May I?” The waiter leans forward and pulls the check out from under the little faux-silver tray. I hadn’t even heard him come up behind me. Odd, that’s not like me. Look at that, for the first time, I’m relaxed with Gin. Is that a good thing?

“That will be eleven euros, signore.”

I reach into my pocket for my wallet. I open it and smile. “You’ll have to pay. I don’t have any money.”

Gin, so elegant and beaming, perfectly attired and made up, grimaces at me, with faux irony. Then she smiles at the waiter, in apology for the wait. She opens her purse, pulls out her wallet, opens it, and this time she doesn’t smile at all. In fact, somewhat awkwardly, she blushes. “You know, signore, I changed clothes for lunch today with my family and, since they’re paying, I just didn’t think of it.”

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