Flavian, to his credit as a frugal and serious person, had amassed $820 in leftover tips and salary from the Biscuitroot for his rainy day fund. And the date with Chellis was the rainy day.
He decided on an electric car for the rental, but it was the first time he’d ever rented a car and the process was more daunting than he realized. He had walked to the rental office and it seemed to surprise the woman behind the counter that he had not called ahead or tried to enlist a car on-line. She was only surprised, but he being the sensitive sort, Flavian read too much into it and felt as though he’d done something wrong.
And she picked up on this, through the slump in his shoulders.
“It’s okay hon,” she said. “Don’t stress over it, we’ll get you fixed up.”
But he didn’t have car insurance, and this required more discussion and more money.
He drove off the lot feeling flushed and while Moscow, Idaho is not that difficult to drive in, even at rush hours, he struggled with the navigation and traffic rules and the anxiety that he would be in a collision with a tractor trailer. And why, and for what, was he putting himself through this? He should just own his stunted life he thought, and tell Chellis he wanted to call the whole thing off. That seemed like the best thing to do, he decided. But then he realized he had to go through with it. He simply didn’t have the courage to confess his capitulation to Chellis.
So, on with it, then. He grimly dressed himself, fixing the top button on his shirt and pulling out his best sweater. He brushed his hair, though not with enthusiasm.
“Are you ready?” Chellis asked him at 6:45.
The fact that she’d applied a fresh coat of lip gloss unsettled him.
“I guess so,” he said.
“Okay,” she said. “So here’s the drill. You need to go out and get in the car and drive around the Commons and come back, and park, and knock on the door for me.”
And this he did.
“Good evening Miss Chellis,” he said, using a line he actually practiced in the parking lot.
“Where’s your dinner jacket?” Chellis asked immediately.
He didn’t know what to say.
“You must have spilled something on it, right? Because otherwise you would not take me to the Feather and Spoke in just any old sweater, right?”
“I think that’s exactly it,” he said. “Just exactly it.”
“Okay,” she said. “Now offer your arm to me. But for god’s sake don’t kiss anything yet.”
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