Page 61 of Pete and His Precious

“I was wondering if you might be interested in going out to breakfast with the ladies and me. Tammy has trouble walking that kind of distance, and she could use a strong arm to lean on. We’ll buy your breakfast and chat a bit.” I had to add that chat a bit stuff, because he might offer to just walk us there, and not walk us back.

Tammy looks shocked that she has trouble walking, but I’m pretty sure she’ll go along. And, she, if anyone, can really exaggerate how bad something could be. So if I say she’s having trouble walking, Pete is going to be carrying her to the diner. I’d almost bet on it.

Still, I hold my breath, waiting for him to answer. Like I said, it’s been an awful long time, like never, since I’ve asked the man out. And it’s been almost as long since someone asked me.

There’s a little flutter in my heart as I think about it. Maybe there still is a man out there who might be interested in someone as old and cynical and bossy and flawed as I am. I’ve been working on my flaws all my life, and I’ve shaved a few rough edges off, but I suppose there’s still a lot of work to do. Maybe the good Lord’s waiting until I’m not quite such raw material. The thought makes me want to snort, but I hold it back just in time.

“Yeah. We can do that. Where would you like to go?” he says, and if he is annoyed, he’s doing a good job of hiding it.

“The diners just down the street, I thought we’d go there,” I say.

“There are two restaurants and Nora’s bakeshop between here and there. If Miss Tammy is having trouble walking, it might be smarter to go closer.”

“We can’t,” I say, racking my brain for a legitimate reason.

“You can’t? Can’t what?”

“We can’t go to any of the other places,” Leslie fills in for me, because she sees I’m struggling. I’m terrible at making up excuses. And even worse at making up lies. I can kinda twist things sometimes, and I knew I shouldn’t, and trust me, I’ve been working on that flaw in my personality since about the time I started to talk and realized I shouldn’t do it. But I haven’t gotten very far.

“Why not?” Pete asks, sounding confused.

“Because Zoe works at the diner, and we promised her we’d go eat there and support her. I know she’s struggling a little bit, and we’ll leave her a big tip,” Carrie says, and I think I found someone who lies worse than I do.

Pete looks at her, like he can’t quite believe it, and probably the first thing that is tripping to come out of his mouth, but he admiringly keeps it back, is that if we wanted to give her money, we could just throw it at her when she walks through to her apartment.

“We promised,” Carrie says lamely.

“A promise is a promise,” I say, in for a penny, in for the whole stinking wallet.

Pete doesn’t look the slightest bit convinced, but I really admire a man with self-control, and he doesn’t call us on our total and complete fabrications.

“When did you guys want to go?” he asks, sounding more eager than he should, and I realize then why he didn’t call us out. He wants to go too. I bite back a smile, but just barely.

“Right now,” I say, standing up quicker than I should, and bending over as my back fights and protests.

That’s right. I’m not a teenager anymore, and I have to move more slowly, as my body adjusts to new positions because every new position hurts a bit. That’s okay, I’m doing yoga, and that’s been helping. I know. Someone as old as I am doing yoga is a picture that you don’t want to see any more than you want to see an eighty-year-old tiptoeing in public.

We get out, and I glanced at Tammy, making sure that she’s remembered that she can’t walk.

She’s never forgotten anything negative, although I’m not sure she’s remembered which foot she can’t walk on, since she seems to be limping on both of them.

“I can’t make it!” she says, putting her hands on the end table Pete just complimented, her face all scrunched up in what I would term her normal expression, but Pete seems to think that it indicates pain.

He hurries over to her.

“Do you have a wheelchair?” he asks, stopping beside her, and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“No. But if you carry me that’ll be just fine,” Tammy says, putting her hands up almost like a child who’s asking to be picked up.

That time I can’t stop my snort, and I end up coughing to cover it. I should have said that I couldn’t walk. I told you I can’t lie.

Anyway, he doesn’t need a second invitation. He swoops Tammy up, like she weighs nothing, and looks around at the rest of us who are in various stages of standing. Leslie, of course, isdoing just fine. Once I get going I’m doing good too. I might be eighty, but I’m not decrepit.

And I won’t be, if I have anything to say about it. I’m going to stay young, and I think there are ways. Matchmaking seems to be like a good one. It sure makes me happy anyway.

We all head to the door, with Pete following us, Tammy in his arms.

“It’s a beautiful day,” Carrie says as we step out into the sunlight and her green hair seems to glow.

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