Daniel and Jonah Part 3

Chapter 3

Written by Copyright 12/01/19

I didn't see him on Thursday, perhaps it was his day off, at least I hoped that's all it was. The thought that he could be avoiding me crossed my mind but I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Friday night came along and I was looking forward to seeing and learning more about him, at least whatever he was willing to talk about, which if he stayed true to form, wouldn't be much. I had to laugh at the situation. Usually, I found men who only wanted to talk, mostly about themselves. Getting Daniel to speak was going to be a challenge, but one I felt more than up to.

In anticipation of our first meeting, I hesitated to refer to it as a date, even to myself, I closed the store early, arrived at six fifteen and sat down at a booth where he couldn't help but see me as soon as he walked in. The following fifteen minutes seemed to drag, and the longer it dragged, the more I worried that he wouldn't come after all. But at six-thirty on the dot, the door opened and in walked my Daniel. He tried to hide it, but I could have sworn I could see something like relief in his eyes, however brief it was as he saw me and made his way to the booth, his steps somewhat awkward and stilted. 

"Hullo," he said shyly.

"I'm glad you were able to make it." I smiled. His cheeks were rosy from the cold. It was early March now, nights were still cold and we were still getting snow now and again. It was starting to flurry even as he sat down. New England weather is unpredictable at best, even for the experts. He'd apparently unzipped his jacket before coming in so I suggested that he take it off and hang it with mine. After he did that he sat down across from me, looking down at the formica table top.

"Me too. You," he replied, somewhat woodenly. I chalked it up to nerves, but then as I thought back over the months I'd been waiting on him, I'd never seen him really smile, or react to just about anything. Other than the occasional brief half-smile he'd sent my way now and again the last time we'd spoken, I'd never seen any expression on his face at all. I wondered if it was a defense mechanism, but then I figured if, given the chance, I'd get to know all about him eventually.

I handed him one of the menus that had been given to me by the waitress when I'd arrived and began to look through my own, even though I had pretty much decided on what I was going to have. I didn't want to let him know how long  I'd actually been there.

A waitress promptly came to the table and asked if we'd like drinks while we looked at the menu and we both ordered sodas.

I wasn't aware that I was doing it until Daniel looked up and me and asked, "Why do you keep staring at me?" He held eye contact for longer than he ever had before, and I could swear I saw a bit of fear and distrust in those beautiful eyes.

Smiling as gently as I could I replied, "I'm just happy that we're here together. I'm really looking forward to getting to know you better."

His gaze dropped to the menu once more but I could tell he wasn't really looking at it. His tension was like a solid thing and I spoke again to try to put him at ease, "Is there anything you want to know about me, Dan? I'm an open book," I smiled.

His shoulders seemed to relax somewhat but he still seemed anxious to me. At least he was actually turning the pages of the menu, taking his time as he looked at what the restaurant had to offer.  We made our decisions and the waitress, who had obviously been keeping an eye open, walked over and took our orders. 

When she left I continued to talk to Daniel, telling him a little about myself in the hopes that he'd open up to me a bit more. He nodded politely as he listened and began to make more, though still brief, eye contact.

Our meals arrived and we began to eat. Between mouthfuls I continued to talk to him, trying to entertain him with stories from when I'd been younger.

"So my mother said, 'Just shut your mouth and eat it!' and my brother shut his mouth up tight and then pointed to his mouth, then the fork, then at mom, and made mumbling sounds. She got this look on her face, I don't know if she was mad or trying not to laugh or what. Finally, she says, 'Ok, smartass, you made your point. Let me put it this way then,' she goes, 'open your mouth to eat and keep it closed the rest of the time.' So, of course, my brother starts making all these noises while he's eating with his mouth closed. It wasn't until dad gave him a smack upside the back of his head that he cut it out, but we were all laughing by then.  What's your family like?" I asked finally as he concentrated on eating his burger. There was enough of a pause that I wondered if he'd been listening to me after all.

"They're alright enough, I guess." he finally replied. "My mother can be pretty funny sometimes too." he added, the smile returning somewhat, "There was one time when my sister kept wrinkling her nose and refusing to eat dinner until mom told her what it was exactly, so mom said, 'Baby caca on toast. Now eat!' My sister let out a screech and ran away from the table. Now that was funny."

"Hey," Daniel said before I could come up with an answer to that. It sort of freaked me out that a mother would say that to her kids.  "What do you call a fake noodle?"

I frowned in confusion, "A fake noodle? I have no idea."

"It's called an IMpasta."

It took me a moment to realize that he'd actually told a joke and I laughed with pleasure. "Let me try one... what do you call a pig that does karate?"

Dan, keeping his gaze on the top of the table, concentrated for a moment and then with a barely perceptible grin replied, "A pork chop!"

"Dang! Well, that one was too easy, how about... hmmm, let me think... ok, here's one, do you like to read?"

Daniel blinked in surprise, he always had a book with him so I knew that he found the question strange. "Well, yes..." he answered hesitantly, giving me a dubious look.

"I've been reading a book about anti-gravity. It's really hard to put down."

It took Daniel several moments to get the joke. Finally, he said, "I get it. Anti-gravity. I like that one," he said with a chuckle.

I'd never heard him laugh before, and I'd never heard anything quite like it. It was unusual and yet it was also strangely infectious and I began to laugh with him.

"My friend thought he was so smart... he said that only onions make you cry. So I threw a coconut at his head," he grinned.

That stopped me dead in my tracks. "Did... I mean... Daniel... that's... was he hurt badly?" I asked, stunned.

Daniel's face went red then back to pale so quickly I thought for sure he'd pass out. He trained his eyes on the table top his shoulders rose as though he were afraid of something. His hands disappeared beneath it but I could see that he was wringing them.

"I- I- I didn't... I mean... i-i-it's a j-joke... I just th-th-thought it was funny... I... I'm sorry..." he stammered as he began to stand up. When he put his hands on the table I could see I'd been right. His hands were red from the force he'd been using.

I put one of my hands on his and attempted to pull him back down gently. He refused to look at me and tried to pull away once again.

"Dan..."

"That's... that's why... one of the r-reasons... why... I-I-I knew you w-wouldn't like g-g-g-going out with me," he said quietly, "I'll just go now... ummm..." he hesitated as he reached into his pocket for his wallet and took out a twenty. "I d-d-don't know how... how m-m-much my share is but I'm pretty s-s-sure this s-s-should..."

"Dan, calm down, hon," I said softly, "it's alright, I... it just took me off guard for a moment. I didn't know whether you were serious or not and... I'm sorry, hon. I should have known you'd never do anything like that. I do know you'd never do anything like that. I know you don't have a mean bone in your body. Please... don't go."

"It's p-p-probably for the b-best that I do." he replied in a low voice, looking as though he were about to cry. "I knew t-t-this was a b-bad i-i-idea."

"Daniel," I said a bit more sharply than I'd intended, "just sit down and talk to me, alright? Please," I urged more gently.

His body gave an almost imperceptible twitch at the tone of my voice, I'm pretty sure I'd shocked him by raising my voice to him even though it had only been a little. He looked at me uncertainly for a moment. I'm not sure what he saw but he slowly sat back down though he wouldn't look me in the eyes again, and he'd gone back to being completely silent.

"Please talk to me?" I asked quietly. "I don't judge people, Dan," I reassured him, "and I'm here for you if you need me... hell, I'm even here if you don't need me," I tried to joke to lighten the mood.

I'd nearly given up hope that I could get through that barrier that he'd created, it was again several minutes before he chose to speak again, and what he said surprised me.

"Want to hear two short jokes and one long joke?" he asked, finally, still staring at the table top.

"Sure," I replied as though we'd been having this conversation the entire time.

"Joke. Joke. Jjjjjjoooooooooooke!"

It took me by surprise and I couldn't help but to laugh. It was just one of those jokes that's so bad it's actually funny.  "That's great, Dan. You have a great sense of humor."

The little smile that had appeared on his face at my laughter, disappeared. "No. I don't." he replied quietly, "I'm... a weirdo. Strange. I have a sick sense of humor," he continued in that oddly monotonous voice, and still with no expression on his face that I could see. From the tone of his voice, I could tell that it wasn't self-pity, simply a statement of facts as he saw them. "My whole family is the same way," he paused for a moment and then added thoughtfully, "except for my sister. She has no sense of humor at all."

I found that statement to be amusing but was afraid to laugh at this point. "So you came by your sense of humor honestly," I smiled, "I've always been told that I have my father's sense of humor... and my mother's nose."

Dan glanced up quickly to look at my nose before looking back down immediately.

"Yep," I continued, "and she's still mad at me to this day for not giving it back to her."

At first, he frowned, seeming confused as he looked once again at my nose. 

"Was it plastic surgery? Did you lose your nose in an accident and she gave you hers?" he asked innocently.

"It's just a joke, hon. I meant that I inherited the shape of her nose, not that I actually had it on me, understand?" I smiled gently so that he would know that I wasn't making fun of him, but I did wonder how he could be so literal about a thing like that.  "Hasn't anyone ever told you that you have your... I don't know, father's eyes and..." I looked at his features, "your mother's lips? Or the shape of her face or... understand?" I asked gently.

"What's a faceor?" he asked, confused.

I wondered at first whether he was pulling my leg, but then I realized that he truly didn't understand what I'd said, "That was my fault, Daniel, I let my sentence trail off. What I meant was, has anyone said that you had the shape of your mother's face, or some other feature?"

"Oh," he said in understanding.  "People tell me I look just like my grandfather, on my father's side."

Quietly I replied, "Then your grandfather on your father's side must be a very good looking man."

Though it was obvious to me that he was trying to keep it in check, a small smile played about those full lips that I hoped one day to kiss. "He was. He had some political views that drove my mother up the wall," he said quietly, still smiling as he reviewed the memory, "she hates politics and never talks about them, but once she got so mad at grandpa that... well, it's a long story," he chuckled.

"Come on, Dan," I encouraged with a smile of my own, "tell me a little bit about yourself. You've hardly said a word about yourself since we sat down."

He blushed again at the memory of what he had said, so I continued quickly, "What's your favorite color? It might be cliche but I really like blue, pretty much every shade of blue I've ever seen. So how about you?"

"Green." he said quietly, "I always dream of having a home far out in the woods somewhere, far away from people, and being surrounded with lots of trees and grass."

He took a breath as though he were going to say something else but let it out and closed his mouth once again.

"That's a really nice dream," I agreed, "the way you describe it, it sounds like a really romantic spot."

Dan shrugged slightly, "I have to get a better job though," he said in his quiet, almost monotone voice, "I don't think I'll ever be able to live like that on a bagger's pay."

"Now, there, see?" I responded, pleased, "I never knew what your job was. Which store do you work at?"

He mumbled the answer so that I could just barely hear him and he blushed again, before taking another bite of his burger. I was pleased to know that he didn't work far from my store.

"It's an honest job for honest pay, Dan, and I bet you're great at it," I encouraged.

He only shrugged and continued to nibble at his dinner. 

"How about your favorite holiday? Christmas, for me, is in the top three, but I really love Halloween. I love to get dressed up and bring my nieces and nephews out, or even to just stay home and hand out candy." I replied, having another bite of my now somewhat cool steak and potatoes. 

I could see Dan perk up and smile. He looked at me a little more bravely than he had til now, and replied, "I love Halloween. It's my favorite too. It's the one time of year where I can just be... invisible. Behind my masks, no one knows who I am, and I can just have fun. I love to get dressed up and go out. I bring my little brother out, and when he's done trick or treating, I usually go to my friend's house. He always does up his porch. My friend, I mean. I think he buys every light and decoration in town." he joked. I had to admit that I was pleased to hear more inflection in his voice and to see more animation in his features.

I laughed at that image and admitted that I had a tendency to go a little overboard myself.

"My favorites are skeletons," he said, "then my mother and little brother pose some of them."

"How do you feel about ghosts?"

"I love them!" he replied, looking up at me and favoring me with a real smile, "But I can't always afford the decorations I want. I usually get a bunch of stuff from the dollar store. I especially like the Grim Reaper. I've always found him fascinating."

Our conversation continued in this relaxed, friendly way as we finished our dinners. I found myself doing most of the talking, but when he did speak, I felt like a sponge, soaking in every word, watching his expressions as he became comfortable enough to reveal little things about himself, all of which I found fascinating.

I wanted to holler at the waitress who came over at that point and asked if we would like dessert, interrupting our conversation. I felt that I had made some headway with Daniel and was afraid to lose that momentum. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly to stop myself from telling her to just go away and we'd call her when we were ready. After all, she was only doing her job, and no one deserved abuse. Swallowing back my irrational first reaction, I smiled at her and chose a strawberry shortcake sundae and a black coffee.

"Do you have pecan pie? Or cheesecake?" Dan asked, hazarding a glance at the woman.

"We have both," the waitress replied cheerfully, "you can get the cheesecake plain, with chocolate, strawberries, or cherries."

"Cherries please," he requested quietly.

"Coffee?" 

Daniel wrinkled his nose in a way I found absolutely charming, "No coffee for me," he said with distaste, "I'll have..." he hesitated, looking at the dessert menu again, "I'd like a strawberry milkshake, please."

"Coming up," the waitress replied as she cleared our table, and turned smartly to fill our order.

"Darn!" I said with a grin, "I wish I'd thought of cheesecake."

Without thinking, Dan replied, "Do you want mine?"

I was surprised at his generosity, "That's ok, Dan, I'll be perfectly happy with my sundae. I can always get cheesecake the next time we go out."

I became a little nervous when he remained silent, "We... we are going to go out again, aren't we, Dan? I'd really love to see you again."

"You don't have to..." he began, his gaze once again studying the table top.

"If you're suggesting that I'm just asking to be polite I'll swat you one," I leaned down to where he could see me and grinned, to let him know I was only joking, "I really would like a second date with you. Please?"

He sat quietly for several moments, thinking hard about my question before he answered quietly, "If you get to know me, you might not like me..."

Before he could finish his sentence, I cut in, "I already like you, Daniel. A lot. Will you give me a chance?"

Before he could answer, the waitress arrived with our desserts and drinks. With another wide smile and a friendly request to call her if we needed anything else at all, she left us to our conversation.

At first he was completely silent, staring down at the table top as though it were an especially interesting book. Finally, taking a deep breath and folding his hands together on the table, he said softly, "I want to tell you right off, before we go any further. I'm autistic.  I don't get people most of the time, and from what I've seen I don't want to. It's caused a lot of problems over the years. Things I'm not... proud of.  I have a lot of... issues, my mother calls them. Would you still be willing to date me, knowing that? I'll understand if you don't," he added, all of his previous animation gone, and the nearly monotone voice back in force as his features once again lost all expression.

Suddenly everything became clear to me, and a weight lifted off of my chest that I hadn't known was there before. I had heard a little bit about autism and vowed to myself that I would learn more now. I looked at him and said, "Dan, everyone has problems of one kind or another throughout their lives. You have. I have. So has everyone else that I know. I can't possibly hold your past against you. As far as your autism, it's only a part of who you are, it's not who you are. Do you know what I mean? I think it's just a part of what has helped you become, in my opinion, a very kind, considerate person. Knowing this, and knowing that there is a lot more to learn about the man named Daniel whom I've come to be so fond of, yes, I'd like to go out with you again. Do... would you like to go out with me on a second date? Soon?"

He seemed uncertain, still not sure that I would stay with him for long. I could only imagine that his past relationships, if any, had not gone well, and I silently cursed anyone who had rejected and hurt this man who already meant so much to me.

"Let's have our dessert, Dan, whadda ya say," I smiled. "It'll give you some time to think, alright?"

"Okay," he replied softly. He pulled the cheesecake toward him and began to eat it slowly. I tried not to smile as I noticed him picking up the pace, making sounds of pleasure as he took bite after bite until the cake was gone, after which he started on his milkshake.

"My Nonnie used to make the best cheesecake," he commented out of the blue, "I liked this one here, but it's just not nonnie's," there was a little more animation to his voice, and slightly more variation in his tone as he spoke and I found myself hanging on every word.

I knew that he was trying to shift attention away from himself, personally, and yet tell me something of himself at the same time.

"So your nonnie was a great cook then," I said, picking up the thread of the conversation, hoping that I'd learn more about him.

"Yep, she made the best cheesecake, and she'd make homemade manicotti and sauce, and special bread for Easter. She'd make a loaf of it for everyone to take home," he paused for a moment here and then continued, "my grandma is a wonderful cook too. She makes really great banana bread, and her sauce is spicy and delicious. Do you know she puts pepperoni in her sauce?" he asked, glancing up at me with a pleased expression, "My mother said that she was floored the first time she ever ate at Grandma's house when her and dad were still dating. She said she'd never tasted anything like it, and grandma sometimes makes too much and brings us a batch. It doesn't last long. My mother says we're like locusts."

One grandmother passed away if I was reading him right, and one grandmother alive. Nothing yet about grandfathers other than that quick comment earlier, so I didn't ask the questions that were at the tip of my tongue. Honestly, I was more distracted by the pleasure he showed when he spoke of his grandmothers.

His obvious emotions were at such odds with his usual quiet, reserved demeanor, and the usual flat tone I'd become accustomed to, and it was clear by the softening of his features and the dreamy expression in his eyes that he loved them very much.

"So your mother must cook like your nonnie?" I asked curiously.

Dan shrugged, "I guess when she wants to. She's always saying she's not the cook nonnie was, but dad says she does fine when she's not worrying about it. And he's always saying that mom's not happy unless she's worried about something," he chuckled. 

Oh, how I wanted to hear more of that laughter!

He finished the last of his milkshake, not slurping it, deliberately I think. If he'd been alone I'm sure he would have.

"So, why don't we head out?" I asked as I picked up the check. I left the twenty on the table to see if he'd pick it back up.

"We have to pay first," he said finally, taking out another twenty dollar bill, trying to hand it to me. He blushed a little when I told him to put it back in his wallet. "No, that's ok," he replied tonelessly, "I'd rather pay for myself."

"How about if I pay the bill and you leave the tip?" I tried to compromise.

Seeing no problem with that, Dan put the twenty on the table with the other one which he seemed to have completely forgotten about and walked away. I knew a lot of people who tipped well for good service, which we'd received, but a forty dollar tip was too much for a fifty-seven dollar tab. As I followed him, I wondered if I'd be doing the right thing by saying anything about it.  Just as I was about to speak, the waitress ran up to us.

"I'm so glad I caught you! You accidentally left this on the table!" she said, somewhat breathlessly as she held out the cash.

"It wasn't an accident. It's for you." Daniel said quietly, his face once again expressionless.

"Sir, I... I really do appreciate it but this is just way too much," the waitress blushed, she didn't like to offend anyone but she felt that she couldn't, in all honesty, accept such a large tip.

Dan's neck and ears went pink. "It's for you," he repeated before turning and walking toward the door, making no attempt to take the bills back. He seemed to be a little angry for some reason. The waitress gave me a worried look and I smiled at her. "Don't worry about it, miss, he just likes to show his appreciation for good service, you deserve every penny of that," I reassured her, "you have a good night now."

Resisting the urge to pat the befuddled woman on the shoulder in reassurance, I ran outside and caught up with my Daniel, calling to him to slow down.

He stopped, his gaze on the asphalt, his shoulders tense.

"Dan, it's not that big a deal, ok?" I tried to reassure him as well, "Waiters and waitresses don't make much. You did a really nice thing there.  Once she gets over the shock of it she'll be blessing you all night."

With that, he glanced up at me and asked quietly, "They don't make much? They seemed to have a pretty large menu," he replied thoughtfully.

"I mean, they don't make much per hour, in wages," I explained, "so they depend on tips to make up their income.

He asked with a concerned frown, "Why don't they make much? Isn't there a minimum wage? Do you really think I did a good thing?" he asked in one breath, then, very quietly, almost too quietly for me to hear he said, "I could use some blessings."

"I know for a fact, but, uh, maybe next time you leave a tip we'll calculate what a good one is and leave that much, ok?" In an attempt to change the subject, I grinned and said, "So, c'mon, I'll walk you to your car. Zip up your jacket, hon," I added, "it's cold out here."

"I don't drive," he replied, simply, "and I like the cold. It doesn't bother me."

"You should still zip up, Dan," I said worriedly, "it's snowing and you're going to be covered in it in a minute."

"I like the cold," he repeated as he continued to walk away.

"Did you take a cab? A bus?" I asked, looking for the nearest bus stop, thinking I'd wait with him until the next one if he was uncomfortable taking a ride from me. I still worried that he wouldn't zip his jacket up.

"I walk."

My eyebrows rose as I thought about the location of the store he worked for and where we'd just come from and I realized he'd spent at least a good 20 minutes walking just to get to the restaurant.

"Dan..." I began to say, somewhat aghast.

"I like to walk. It's good exercise. It's not crowded and noisy like a bus and I don't have to worry about the taxi drivers padding the fare."

"Where do you live, Dan, if I can ask," I inquired worriedly.

"Off of Greywren street," he replied, vaguely and somewhat evasively I thought.

I thought about the layout of the city for a moment and then realized that he'd walked away from his home to get here and would have to double back which would take him over an hour, close to two perhaps. If I estimated correctly, he wouldn't be getting home until a little before 9 PM.

"Come on, Dan, I'm driving you home," I said.

"I like to walk," he replied in that nearly toneless voice that I finally understood that he reverted to when he was nervous, "it won't take that long."

I could hear him whispering to himself, the last words he'd spoken, over and over again as he continued to walk away. I thought that perhaps he was trying to convince himself, more than me.

"Daniel," I said more sternly, "It's dark, it's cold and getting colder the longer we stand here and talk. You are not walking when I can easily give you a ride and get you there safe and warm. No arguments," I told him in a no-nonsense tone.

Although his expression didn't change much, I could imagine the thoughts warring in his brain. He only knew me from the store, but he did know me. We'd had dinner and he'd told me what might be the worst about himself, and yet I'd stayed. It was clear to me that this was not a man who trusted easily and I would have to take things slowly, but on this matter I was adamant.

"I'm driving you home, Daniel," I repeated firmly, "now let's get going."

As though a switch had turned on his demeanor changed and he seemed much calmer, much less rigid.

"Ok," he replied quietly. We got into the car and he directed me. As I'd expected, it was a relatively short drive, but it was mostly uphill and I was glad he'd allowed me to drive him home. According to my dashboard thermostat, the temperature had dropped again and it had begun to snow harder. When I pulled up to his house, a friendly looking little Cape Cod with green shutters, the kitchen and outdoor lights were on, and the lawn was covered with a thin layer of the white stuff.

"Thank you," he said, getting out quickly. He was just about to close the passenger side door when I called to him.

"Dan!" 

He opened the door and peered in at me curiously.

"Will I see you again?"

"Sure," he replied with no hint of guile, "I'll stop in the next day that I'm scheduled." With that, he closed the door and turned to head into his house.

I got out of the car and walked slowly over to his side so that he wouldn't feel threatened in any way.

"That's not what I meant, Dan... I mean... will I see you again. Can I take you out again some night? Soon?" I asked.

He turned back toward me and looked straight at me, grey-blue eyes wide in the darkness, "Are you sure you want to? After tonight?"

"I'm absolutely sure," I smiled, gently, "what do you say? Movie next time?"

With a very serious expression and tone he replied, "Only if I pay." 

It seemed to mean a great deal to him, so I readily agreed, "I get to buy the popcorn and soda though, alright?" I grinned.

He considered it for a moment and then nodded, "I don't know what next week's schedule is yet. I'll find out tonight when I get inside. I hope we can get the same night off."

I didn't remind him that I owned the cafe and could work any hours I wanted. "You name the date and time and we'll go. I'll drive," I said pointedly.

That little smile I'd come to love so much appeared at the corner of his mouth, "Alright," he replied softly. He hesitated for a moment as though he wanted to say something else but changed his mind, "I'll see you sometime next week." Then he turned and walked slowly up the little hill that led to his house, looking back once when he reached the door and favored me with a full grin. Before I could do or say anything else he was inside and lost to me for the time being.

Next week couldn't come fast enough for me. It wasn't until I was most of the way home that I realized that I hadn't gotten his phone number or even his last name. I'd been to his house, but since he'd been navigating, I hadn't been paying attention to street names and hadn't even thought to look at his house number. I thunked my forehead lightly against the steering wheel before finishing my trek to my own house.

(end chapter 3)