Perfect Symmetry

The moment we sat down at that table, I knew what kind of a meal this would be. It was a “get to know me really well” dinner, where Jon and I (being friends) would truly open up to one another. He ordered a huge cheeseburger and I asked for a bowl of bean chili with a side of fries.

After his first big bite of burger, Jon turned to me. “Tell me about you, Jazz.”

I nearly choked on my chili. His eyes were staring me down, and his voice was soft but commanding at the same time. Who was this guy?

“What do you want to know?” I countered.

“What are your parents like?” Jon asked immediately.

I took a spoonful of soup and blew on it thoughtfully before swallowing it and thinking about my answer.

“They’re back in California. I go back to see them at Christmas and during the summer sometimes,” I replied coolly.

“You’re not super close with them?” he continued.

I wrinkled my nose. “I used to be. But then, during my senior year of college, I got involved with this guy, and I moved to New York just to be with him. I quit the job I had been given right after graduation and followed him like a little puppy.”

“And your parents disapproved,” Jon reasoned.

I nodded. “Of course they did. Looking back, I disagree with myself! I was a disillusioned idiot.”

Jon stole one of my fries. “I’m guessing it didn’t work out with the guy.”

I laughed darkly. “Yeah, that’s for sure.”

“What happened?” Jon asked nosily.

“Well aren’t you interested?” I retorted impishly.

Jon shrugged. “We’re friends aren’t we?”

I smirked. “Yeah, I guess. Well, he was a few years older than me, and as soon as we moved in together he started acting really distant and even shifty. I got a job working nearby, not nearly as good as my old one, but I was trying the whole “value love more than money” thing. Then, I came home early one day and found him with another woman.”

Jon put down his drink and covered my tiny hand with his huge one. “That must have been terrible.”

“I was more angry at myself than him. It’s like at that moment, I woke up from this dream and realized how idiotic I was being. I followed some thirty-two year-old to New York? What the hell was wrong with me? I moved back to Chicago and tried to get my job back, but they refused. So I got my masters in marketing and here I am!” I threw my hands out and presented myself to him.

He smiled appreciatively. “That’s a good story. You were hit by a pile of shit, but you cleaned yourself up and rose to the top.”

I chuckled. “You make it sound better than it is. But thanks. Anyway, my parents sort of said “I told you so” and I was already hurting. It kind of ruined out relationship, at least for me. I always feel like they’re judging my failures.”

Then, we both started to speak at the same time. “Tell me about-“ “Have you had-“ both of us stopped and blushed slightly.

“You go,” Jon said gallantly.

“I was just going to ask you about your parents,” I admitted.

He took another bite of his burger. “They’re also good. I go back and see them during the holidays and the off season.”

“Where do they live?” I asked curiously, taking a few more fries and eating them.

“Back in Winnipeg,” he explained.

“Wow! Do you speak French?” I asked excitedly.

Jonathan looked up at me with a glint of pride in his eyes. “Oui, je parle français couramment. Êtes-vous impressionné?”

I gaped at him. “I have no idea what you just said, but it sounded beautiful.”

He laughed, red spreading onto his cheeks. “I said I do speak French. Fluently.”

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “You must have said more than that.”

Jon’s blush deepened. “I asked if you were impressed yet.”

I grinned at him. “Well, you can color me impressed.”

“Do you speak Spanish, Ms. San Jose?” he changed the subject immediately.

I sat up straighter and cleared my throat dramatically. “Claro que si! Yo hablo español, Jon. Estudié por seis años. Pero he olvidado mucho recentamente.”

Jon looked impressed. “Wow, your accent is great! If I didn’t know you were Indian, you could pass for a Spaniard.”

I laughed modestly. “Thanks. I love the language. But I could never do the French accent.”

“It’s all here,” Jon pointed to his throat.

“I thought you were going to say it’s all in here,” I teased, pointing to my heart.

Jon rolled his eyes. “Cliché.”

“But it’s the language of love!” I said breathily, clasping my hands in front of my chest mockingly.

“I guess after having your parents lecture you in English and French, it stops sounding so loving,” he explained heavily.

“I visited Paris once, and I never felt less cultured or more fat,” I joked, taking a few more fries.

“You are not fat,” Jon retorted immediately.

I patted his hand from across the table. “This friendship is going to work out just fine, Jon. That was the perfect thing to say.”

“It’s just the truth,” he shrugged it off. “So, do you have any siblings?”

I shook my head negatively. “No, but I always wanted an older brother. It would have been nice to have someone to look after me.”

“I have a younger one; you can borrow him if you like,” Jon jibed.

“I take that into consideration,” I played along with a smile.

By this point, we had both finished our meals, and were just sipping our drinks.

“Do you want dessert?” Jon asked politely, skimming the dessert options.

I closed my eyes and braced my self for the oncoming storm. “So uhh you know how you wanted to get to know me?”

Jon nodded patiently. “Yeah.”

“Well one of the weird quirks of Jazz is that she doesn’t like sweet pastries, ice cream, chocolate, or candy,” I said bravely.

He just stared at me like I was an alien. I ducked my head. This was usually the type of reaction I usually got.

“You’re kidding, right?” he replied finally, studying my face for signs of mirth.”

I laughed nervously. “I’m being serious.”

“What the hell do boys get you for Valentines Day?” Jon asked in disbelief.

“Balloons and cards,” I answered quickly.

He leaned across the table, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “No way you are telling the truth.”

“It’s true! I’ve just never liked them. Even as a kid,” I threw my hands up to indicate that it was out of my control.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with some stupid diet, does it?” Jon asked wearily.

My eyes widened. “Hell no! Jon, I just scarfed down a plate of fries right in front of you. I am not on any type of diet.”

He put his head in his palm and stared at me with skepticism. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

I blushed like mad. “So you can get dessert if you want, but I won’t be sharing it with you.”

“Well that’s no fun,” Jon stated firmly. He motioned for the check, and the waitress with the huge boobs set it down in front of him.

“Here you go,” her voice was raspy, breathy, and just plain sexy in my opinion.

Jon barely gave her boobs a glance as he took the bill from her hand. She sauntered away and I took out my wallet.

“No, no put that away, Jazz,” he ordered when he saw me fishing out some bills.

“Aw come on, Jon. It’s only fair if I pay my share,” I whined, trying to shove my money into the check booklet.

He raised it high above his head so that there was no way I could access it. I slumped into my seat, defeated.

“A gentleman never lets a woman pay, no matter what the nineteenth amendment says,” Jon added decisively when he saw my mouth open in protest.

“Well thank you Sir Jon,” I teased as we got up and I pulled on my coat.

“You’re welcome my lady. Now let’s go; it’s late,” he glanced at his watch and then led the way back to the car.

This time, Jon knew just where to drive, and with my tummy full and the radio blaring softly, I felt my eyes drooping on the drive until I lost consciousness and drifted off to sleep.