Sitting down after positioning my mega-tool box, computer bag and Ricoh wonder tool (electric screwdriver kit), I ordered a mushroom omelet with potato pancake and apple sauce. I recommend the pancake-apple sauce with great gusto, by the way. As I sat and drank two glasses of water (I always seem to wake up dehydrated) and three cups of blast jamming go juice; I slowly worked my way through the feast. Suddenly, I recognized a lilting giggle behind me and turned to observe a young waitress.

As in many restaurants of this nature in New York City, the floor staff varies between young second generation men of foreign descent and senior persons of a similar ethnic background. The younger gentlemen here were apparently of the Indian-Pakistan lineage- the older gentleman struck me as Hispanic. I imagined him as comfortable with a lifestyle he had chosen many years before that paid him well enough to raise his family. The young men were having a good laugh with the petite waitress over an 8 by 12 that was hanging off the backside of Poppy, this senior chairman of the staff. Poppy was completely unaware of the tail he had grown.

Artie’s had a real Big Apple feel to it. With the delicatessen part being entirely in control of the thirty-foot frontage on the left, the restaurant completed another twenty to the right and made its way forty feet to the back. Although the style of the restaurant portion was very mixed, it was well lit with a strong white underlying color scheme. I sat in one of the booths towards the back and noticed ivory porcelain tile, with deep gold light fixtures and a recessed ceiling. A very diner atmosphere, with the kitchen to my right and a service area to my rear that causing the laughter to ring forward to reach my ears.

When turned to notice the young lady in her laughter and realized the harmless joke being played on Poppy- my server- I smiled to let the young men know that I supported their passive fun. I love being in New York City for all of its diversity and wonder and as a writer I enjoy the richness of all of the sensory experiences this metropolis can offer. My good fortune is that I grew up here and my adolescent work experience thrived on Manhattan life. Survival here is difficult for middle class and below and any humor a person can find can be absolutely priceless. I couldn’t remotely allow myself to create any discontinuance of the staff’s frivolity. Besides that, I enjoyed the joke myself.

After the youngest of the dark skinned waiters broke down the joke to Poppy, I recognized that the father figure took the incident with great heart. I was forced to compliment him on his spirit and he returned the compliment. "I knew you were a good man." Poppy said to me.

I was transfixed by the siren that had drawn me to the incident in the first place. I’m not without drive in the arena of sex, I’d say, but admittedly my attentions were of an entirely different nature. The waitress seemed to me to be crafty regarding her ability to make all of the male staff at Artie’s dance before her for the sake of gaining her entertainment. I could see that her smiles were the reward that the young men and Poppy were motivated to gain. More so, I saw that the waitress doled out this gift with charity and self-gratification. She convinced me that wile was not the trait that had given her this robust tool.

The waitress proved her character when Poppy, possessed by the elevator music piped in by the owners, took her in his mature arms and spun her in classic slow dance fashion. Her smile was intoxicating to me, reminding me of the smiles of my own daughters. The waitress stood close to five-foot nothing with a thin frame of less than ninety pounds and shoulder length mousy brown hair. Her large hazel eyes were hidden behind the aura of her toothy wide porcelain smile that out-shined all of the white of the diner style restaurant. I could see her soft sweetness reflecting a truth in spirit that I believe is rare worldwide and scant in a city as hard as Metropolis can be. I introduced myself and found that this spirit was as challenging as it was sweet.

"Excuse me. I know this might seem forward, but where are you from?" I asked thinking that she must be from a different planet- say Kansas or Iowa.

She smiled. "I’m from Philadelphia."

"I only ask because I write and I thought that you might be an inspiration for me." Please accept that I am not the guy who would throw out a pick-up line to a waitress. My life is very fulfilling and I really thought that this was a statue of fine china that would break under the weight of a life and size that I command.

"My name is James Marry and I write novels. My first book is in publication now, though I’m not represented by anyone. I hope that I haven’t offended you." I offered my hand.

She took my large mitt with her soft tiny mandible. "I’m Caroline and no, you haven’t offended me. You can probably guess why I’m here though."

"Oh?" I thought for a moment. "Student?"

"No. I’m in New York for the other reason that young women work in restaurants."

I’m not daft and remember that I lived here for most of my young life. "Really? You’re an actress then?"

"That’s right." Caroline said with that gorgeous smile. "What have you written?"

Grant me some space as this question can bring me to expound lengthy speeches on the verge of eclipsing Plato’s oratories, but I kept it simple and tried not to be a braggart.

"My first novel was into its third reading at Tri-Star until I fired my agency." I gave her my promo card for Shut Up.

"Really? Why is that?" Caroline asked convincingly.

Suddenly I recognized that Poppy was standing protectively over my left shoulder.

"They asked me to write a treatment for a screenplay and to postpone finishing my second novel for the series. Then I discovered that the agent hadn’t even read the work. I’m obsessed with the craft and I really didn’t want to stop on number two for so long. I’m re-writing the treatment anyway since the first script was moving so slow." That was as little as I could stand to share with Caroline on my life’s attention.

"Can I pick up the novel here?" She asked.

My heart fluttered since I do attend to any possibility that another copy will sell. "Any major bookseller can get it for you in about four days. I’m out of contract with the publisher but they still sell for me."

Poppy spoke. "Great. Maybe we can all get a copy."

"I would be thrilled if you did." I answered anxiously. "If you do," I said to Caroline hopefully, "send me an e-mail at my web site and when I’m in the city I will come by and scribble it for you."

Caroline warmly answered. "I will do that. Maybe I can let word get around too. You can scratch my back if you get a chance too."

I was reacting from pride, I knew it, and I was uncomfortable with it. I just couldn’t control it. "It might be of interest to you, but oddly enough the main character of the future portion of Shut Up is a young woman much like yourself."

"Well, I’ll have to see it I think. Thank you."

My comfort level could not be retrieved and I looked for a casual escape clause in my lonely contention. I laid the tab and tip on the table for Poppy and offered. "Please do. I’ll look forward to seeing you again." I was a little confused by her thanks.

We said a short goodbye and I made sure that I included Poppy in the discussion this time and they both wished me success. I retreated out of the restaurant-delicatessen and carried my burden to Loew’s to complete my mission for the day as planned. Of course, with the nature of what I do with electronics, field engineering for light emitting diode signs (Broadway lights describe them best), the one expected setback that I deal with regularly deals with coordination. We build the signs but we don’t install them or place the electrical service that runs them. On this repair the first problem was to turn the thing on because a circuit breaker wouldn’t set in the on position so an electrician needed to be called. New York City is not the best place to get an electrician on site quickly, so I had to reset for another date after this problem was handled.

That date was two weeks later and I certainly had not forgotten about Caroline. Allow me to digress for a moment since I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. My family life and my marriage are very fulfilling. I will admit that my wife Gail acted very much like any life partner might in hearing of my writer’s interest in a small waifish girl with a marvelous smile. You have to know that I told her about the encounter since it would be foolish for me to write a piece and expect her not to see it. Either route is perilous in my estimation, but to tell Gail up front at least avoids any problems that dishonesty might lay me out with. That’s a lesson I wish that I had learned a lot earlier too.

At any rate, after I took care of another job on the next Big Apple visit, I began to follow through with Loew’s again. Arriving early, I expected to find Caroline at Artie’s. No such luck. She had taken the day off to try out for a bit roles in The Producers- a Broadway play starring Steven Weber from the old "Wings" television show. Poppy said he would leave a message for me though.

So I went about clearing a display problem on the Loew’s sign. A cable supplying data between two boards had corrupted. Then I ate a medium pizza and watched a movie in my room. It seems like where ever you come from makes the best pizza, but I have to tell you. Try a Manhattan cheese pizza with nothing on it. It is worldly and you’ll know all the rest of them started with that model. Needless to say, I crashed pretty hard after my nightly phone home. Until my cell rang at near nine thirty that is.

"Hello, this is James." I answered expecting the call to be electronics related.

"Um. Hi." A female voice elicited.

"Hi?" I answered.

"This is Caroline. Poppy gave me your number."

Well I’ll be. The waitress rings.

"Well, hi there. I didn’t think you would be calling." I answered.

"Well I had to." Caroline said.

"Oh?"

"Sure. I bought your book. I need you to sign it for me." Caroline answered and I could hear her smile as she toyed with me like she had with the men that she worked with at Artie’s.

"I would love to, but I don’t know when since I finished up that job at Loew’s today."

Caroline paused a moment. "It is a big city, James."

I guessed that she was egging me on a touch. "Yeah, I guess I could still run up and see you when I get done tomorrow at Macy’s."

She brightened. "You mean the Macy’s at Herald Square, I’m sure."

"Well, yeah. I’m going to be working on the Macysports sign actually."

"Cool. I’m off tomorrow and the 1,2,3 line runs right by here. You buy lunch and I’ll take care of getting there and finding you. One o’clock sound right?" A take charge girl can be very uncomfortable in my tiny tight little world.

"Uh…One thirty might work better." I was thinking I could actually finish the damned job if I had a little luck.

"Fine." Caroline said. "We’ll get some hotdogs and sit in the park. I’ve read some of your book and I like it so far. I’ll speed read some until then. I’ve got some questions on your web site too. See you."

"Uhh…" Click. She was gone like the breeze that had brought her in. I was stymied. I stared at my cell for a good thirty seconds before I turned it off.

The next day, things did not go as planned. But I made sure that my work could pause for lunch at 1:30. The Macy’s maintenance crew had some other stuff to accomplish and I had given them an hour’s worth of directives too. I did call my wife to tell her I was having lunch with the actress and she surprised me with her reaction. Gail laughed at me.

Actually she couldn’t help giggling. Gail to me that she had been thinking about me and Caroline getting together to talk and she had tried to be jealous about it. In fact my wife had recognized that her first reaction had been cold with that same attempt. But in thinking the whole idea out, Gail realized that she had absolutely nothing to worry about. I was totally baffled.

My wife explained. She knew that most wives would be nuts if their forty three-year-old husbands of three years told them that they were going to lunch with a twenty-five year old actress. But those women weren’t married to me, Gail said. For one, my wife knew that I had been working hard on my faith. I have always been a church-goer and I had been doing a great deal of reading regarding Christ. Secondly, Gail had seen me countless times with pretty young women at church, home and work and she recognized that they generally made me uncomfortable. And third, Gail said that she usually had to lay out a trap door for me to become sexually interested at home, so why would she ever think I would be looking for some young stuff outside of our marriage. Gail is a good-looking confident woman. She felt that she knew that my mind didn’t work that way in spite of the graphic sex that she knew was in my novel and it’s sequel.

Great. My wife thinks that I’m a shy, sexless, bible thumper and she laughs about it. Isn’t that special? Though I was relieved that she wasn’t concerned, I will admit that the concept had irritated me from the back of my mind.

And doubt can be a funny thing at a time like this.

I’m not the guy that people say is often remotely doubtful. Cocksure, definitely, but never doubtful. I work with vice presidents and managers for Walgreen’s, McDonald’s and Staples on a daily basis and these folks can all smell it if an engineer is the tiniest bit insecure. With my work, I need to be very self-dependent, leaving the home office out of the loop as much as possible. Each job is given to me in total and I’m expected to reach completion without testing the network of engineers and programmers that I leave behind in Clearwater, Florida. And I take the respect that my company gives me very seriously. This characteristic is not one that can be set aside in the rest of my life either. I suppose that is why I am so glad that my wife is as independent as she is. She frees me up to be even more independent.

The issue that this concept gives me to consider is that I really thought Gail should feel less secure about my meeting with Caroline. I knew in my heart that she wouldn’t need to feel this way since I am true blue on any given moment to my family trust. But I still couldn’t grasp that my wife was above the jealous reaction that I expected.

The park is a small triangle just south of 34^th street and 6^th avenue. For people who haven’t been to New York City, the spot is very metropolitan. Cross streets control the outside perimeter and traffic passes by noisily at any time of any given day. This day was no different, but the space is small enough that I found Caroline immediately in spite of the fact that I was ten minutes early. She greeted me with a big healthy smile.

Let’s face it. I’m a guy. I may be 43 years old and very content with my marriage, but I still have an ego. And I’ll tell you; Caroline didn’t have to be a Victoria’s Secret model to make me feel a little proud. She was young and vibrant and directed. The girl had big goals and I was on the verge of getting to know her a little bit better. That is a pretty cool deal even if I was expressly NOT going to be having any dalliance with the young lady. Did I say that? Dalliance? Geez, I’m such a square. I still admit that I was not remotely interested in Caroline sexually though.

She was looking at me with an odd expression of wonder.

"What’s the matter with you, playwright?" Caroline asked.

I was stumped, but I knew then. "What do you mean?"

"Your brain looked like it was headed somewhere that your body wasn’t going for a minute there." She answered with a smile.

"Huh." I said. "Imagine that."

We walked silently for a moment and then we sat on a city bench in the small triangular park. Caroline looked at me thoughtfully.
"I get the impression that you are uncomfortable. Did I say something wrong?" She asked.

I had to consider this for a second. "No. You’re okay. I’m just having one of those days."

"One of those days?" Caroline seemed annoyed yet still amused.

"Yeah. I guess so."

"Listen." Caroline said. "I saw your stuff on the web site and I liked it a lot. You have an interesting way of seeing things."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I like your short stories a lot- especially the ones that were not science fiction. Maybe that was why I ordered a book." She smiled again and disarmed me.

I smiled back. "Really?"

"Yeah. I picked up just before you tried to catch me at Artie’s. I want you to sign it for me."

"I’ll do that." Thoughts crept in on me again. "I’ve got to ask you though."

"Oh?"

"Well, I was wondering why you would meet me like this?" I blurted my concern right out.

She laughed for a moment then put her hand to her mouth to stifle herself. Gail came to mind suddenly. Looking over her hand at me, I supposed that she thought I was graced by ignorance. Caroline caught her breath and looked at me with the same priceless smile.

"You were married before. Weren’t you?" She asked.

I nodded.

"And you did tell your current wife about our rendezvous. Right?"

"Well… yeah." I said. "Of course I did."

"All right then." Caroline said. "I think I can figure this out."

"Oh?" I didn’t know there was anything TO figure out.

"Yeah, I think so." She added. "Let me ask you about your first go around then. What happened with that?"

The ride was unsure, but the sled had power and I was trapped in the passenger seat. "We were young and we made some mistakes. Neither one of us ever got over it. So we split up after twelve years. Two kids, a boy and a girl, who seem normal and sweet."

Maybe she was just smiling too damn much. "Uh huh." Caroline said. "I’d bet she blamed you for chasing some woman you never got to sleep with. Then to pay you back she let you catch her in the rack with another man."

A swift kick might have felt better. Caroline looked at me with that waiting look. You know. The one that says she knows she’s right.

"Well, not exactly." I couldn’t bail quick enough. "Okay, you’re pretty close. I did start it, but I think it was me who took most of the abuse there. She slept with the guy and then she tried to make him my best friend."

Caroline looked at me with "See- I told you so," sort of eyes.

"Okay. You’ve got me. But what are you telling me?"

Caroline giggled a bit before she laid waste to my protective dream. "Listen, James." She said. "It took you a long time I bet to make it back to a meaningful and serious relationship again. Don’t you see?"

She had me going there.

"James. You are a nice guy who got beat up back when you were still figuring out who you were. It knocked you on your butt and deep down inside, you’re watching out for the fall again. You don’t get it, do you?"

I didn’t either.

"You love your wife and you would never consider sex with me, except for the sake of fear. You’re afraid that I might be after you and the memory of your last brush with infidelity has made you into a complete idiot."

"Why, thank you very much." I said with the appropriate ruffle amount of feather ruffling.

"Don’t take it personally. Only this one area seems to be jaded, and it does come through in your writing." She continued painfully forward with her amused beam. "It really is a rather adorable quality and I didn’t realize you were so messed up with it until today."

I was sure that I had no idea how to take that comment and I looked at Caroline quizzically enough for her to press on.

"All of your male characters are struggling with the same issues. They don’t understand women. Some of them have been entirely crippled by this fact and some of them have become whores because of this. Your hero in the book seems to be looking for a rescue from his plight when he falls for the police woman." Caroline said.

I had never considered this before, but it rang with a hollow truth that was undeniable. Had I offered my work to the Gods only to show my own ineptness in dealing with the majority of my own species? I thought that I had written an exciting story of betrayal and sex with an underlying message of hope for humanity. Go figure.

"You know that can’t be true , Caroline. I appreciate your insight on my writing, but you haven’t even read the whole book yet." I offered in my defense.

"No." She said. "But your web site reeks of the same fragrant odor from story to story. The novel just simplifies this thinking in the mask of a thriller. All of your female characters are take charge women who go after everything and anything they want. They just don’t seem to get it because of the men who manipulate them because of their own heroes’ and villains’ numerous paranoid weaknesses. Your fear of self destruction through commitment comes from your experience with infidelity when you were young."

I needed to get past this nonsense without hurting the girl’s feelings. "Okay. So let’s say that you’re right, Madame Freud. How do you and my wife figure into this?"

"Don’t try and drag me into this, James." Caroline offered on the edge of hysteria. "Your wife is probably more aware of this than anyone, but she probably isn’t clear about it. She just knows that she doesn’t need to worry about you on your short work trips or you taking a couple of hotdogs with me. For a woman to get her hooks in you, she’d have to make you a project- and I’m sure that’s just what your wife did to get you. You’re a failsafe, mister."

Groovy. I’m unbreakable now. How come I don’t feel like a superhero then?

Caroline and I ate two hotdogs and drank some Cokes. We touched on my psyche occasionally as we talked about each of the readings she had gleaned from my web site. And she became surer of my perpetuity in stone regarding my faithfulness. I was never convinced, but I suppose that I couldn’t be either. Other than my discomfort, the day turned out to be a good one. After the lunch, I repaired the sign and went to my room. I reviewed the writings I had placed on my site and I read some passages in my book. After a while, I had to check with the source of my confusion so I picked up the phone and called.

"Hi. It’s me." I said without a doubt that she would know who was speaking.

"Hi me." My wife answered. "What’s wrong?"

She knows me too well. "I met with Caroline today."

Gail chuckled knowingly. "Oh yeah? How did that go?"

"She called me an idiot and said I don’t understand women."

"Honey!" Gail exclaimed. "She didn’t."

"Well. Not exactly. But that’s the short version. She said that was why you weren’t worried about me meeting with her though."

"James. I think that version is too short for me to grasp, but I also think she was telling you something else."

"Oh? What’s that?"

"She was telling you that you love me enough that meeting with any woman would make you uncomfortable even if you knew it weren’t romantic. And do you know why that is?" Gail asked.

"Tell me." I said, hearing her smile through the phone.

"Because you love me, stupid."

Now, how do you like that? Maybe I don’t understand women very well. But they all seem to have my number pretty well etched in granite. Don’t they? I took some contentment in Gail’s bottom line because that was the only thing in my life that was truly a priority for me. I had spent a long time alone between marriages and even with all of the women I dated I looked for one I loved that would keep me happy. Gail isn’t perfect, but neither am I- obviously if you put any weight in Caroline’s contentions. But she makes me happy most of the time and any little misery I have to surrender to is a small accomplishment compared my own faults. Maybe she is right about my shyness, my sex and my relationship with God but she to hardly ever complains about any one of these characteristics and the giggle indicates she might even be endeared to them (except the sexless part). I think a relationship of that value is pretty rare and should be treasured. I think the trick is not to forget that and Gail has no shortage of reminders for me.

Caroline got that part in "The Producers" and I haven’t heard much about her since that day. Maybe I’ll have to get some potato pancakes with applesauce some day soon. Yeah. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t.