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Franks' at IL MARE Restaurant He's talking to the Restaurant Hostess. She leafs through the reservation book.

" Sir, I'm sorry, but we just received our fourth star and I'm afraid a reservation at this time will be extremely difficult. When were you hoping to dine with us? "

" Two years from tomorrow. September 15, 2004. "

The Hostess blinks and closes the book. " We should be able to accommodate you, Sir. "

*~~~~~~*

Gerard get's home from work late. He enters the apartment in a hurry and runs to the bedroom, throwing off his clothes. He checks in on the rather fancy shirt and slacks that he has hanging in the closet, ready for tonight.
Pepper is watching him. He takes a deep breath.
" He's waited two years. What's another half-hour. Right? "
He continues his preparations but at a calmer pace.
He showers, dresses and sprays some cologne on and then exist the building fast.
*
Gerard approaches the restaurant but stops before he goes in. He's ready: excited but calm. Confident.
As he takes off his jacket he scans the room. The tables are full. Before he can locate Frank the Hostess comes up to him.

" Follow me to the reception. " He's lead further into the restaurant. " May I help you, Sir? "

" Yes I have a reservation. Way, or Iero, I-E-R-O. I'm not sure what name it's under. "

" Oh! Yes! You're the. . . " She stops herself. " Follow me. "

Gerard is shown a table fore two. It's empty. He's quite surprised.

" I hope you forgive me, but i can't help asking. . . "

" Yeah? "

" This reservation is sort of. . . legendary. It's been here longer than-most of the staff. There’s always been intense speculation about who made it, and why, and if you'd actually show up. Some of the crew even have bets going. . . "

Gerard looks around. Waiters all over the room are sneaking glances at her. Chef's are g out from behind the kitchen door. Gerard suddenly feels very self-conscious.

" I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-- I'll send the waiter for your drink order right away. "

A waiter appears and pours Gerard a glass of champagne.
" Complimentary. "

" Thank you. "

The waiter can't help himself. " Good luck. " He says and darts away. He sips the champagne, nervous.

[ Half an Hour later ]
His glass is empty. Has been for a while. He's still waiting, alone at the table. The waiter comes over to refill his glass, but Gerard stops him. He is aware that the restaurant staff is watching him, whispering to one another. He watches as the Hostess shoos them away.
*
Hours have passed. Other diners are lingering over dessert, coffee, chatting intimately across the candlelit tables.
Gerard still is alone.
After a long moment he pushes him chair back and gets up. Everyone is watching him, gravely.
He makes him way to the front, expressionless. He collects his coat, not speaking to anyone.
The Hostess watches he leaves.

Gerard walks home. Alone. His stoic facade begins to crumble. Tears come to his eyes.
Frank wasn't here.

*~~~~*

Gerard gets up. He slept in his clothes.
His face feels puffy. Probably from crying. He goes to the bathroom and scrubs his face clean. He puts on his everyday clothes. He hangs the fancy clothes in the closet and closes the doors.