Hana hotel restaurant. Posh as posh gets with plates under $100. This will hurt my check book, he thought, as though the ring in his pocket hadn't already wiped clean six months of savings. He hoped, at least maybe, the meal would rid him of the stench of mac and cheese; his normal meal.
"One tonight, sir?"
"Um, ... two," Leroy stuttered. No one called him sir. Not in this town. Not at work, not at home. Especially not where he grew up. Not never, he thought. Leroy grinned sitting at the candle clad table cloth. Intentional double negatives always made him grin. He could not help himself.
He twiddle his thumbs and looked at the candlelight and shadows on his dark hands. One of the waiters, Jenny she called herself, brought a pencil jar filled with thin crisp bread sticking out the top. He wasn't sure how to properly eat it so he just let it sit while he listened to his stomach growl and watched the entrance for Cynthia McCormick. Waiting for her ivory skin and flowing ebony mane to intimidate all the makeup masked beauties sitting at tables competing with each other for the most perfect aura. They would hate Cynthia McCormick. She didn't wear makeup. None. She didn't need it. Women always hated her for it.
Leroy looked out the window. Even from the 42nd floor, he could make out the distinction of his neighborhood and this one. San Francisco is funny for its compactness. You can leave the worst neighborhoods just by crossing a street. Two small blocks and you are in a different world. A scary world with people that call you sir, and put the cloth table napkin on your lap for you and open doors for you.
Leroy adjusted his weight in the soft wooden chair, and watched out of the corner of his eye as a Japanese couple not much older than himself was seated at the next table. He watched a waiter bring them the same stale pencil bread. After seeing the man break off a piece and eat it like a candy bar, Leroy did the same. At least if it was the wrong way, he wouldn't be the only one doing it. That made it less embarrassing. His stomach thanked him for the crunchy morsels.
Cynthia McCormick entered the candlelit restaurant, and all the women turned to look at her, even the ones that couldn't have seen or heard her enter. A rush of primordial resentment rushed over them like a wind gushing down between the alleys of San Francisco's star scraping towers.
Leroy took a deep breath, holding back the urge to wave both arms shouting, I LOVE YOU, MARRY ME, I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT YOU. I tried. I can't.
He settled for standing and pulling out her chair for her. She smiled for him, and he could now feel the hatred of every man in the room. Their jealousy as Leroy and Cynthia McCormick embraced for a short brushing of their lips. It felt good. He smiled back.
"Wow," she opened her eyes wide in mock surprise. "Leroy Johnson in a tie. What's the big occasion?"
"That coming from a woman in an elegant evening gown?" He deflected her question.
She blushed.
"I'm glad you could make it."
The waiter brought them food, said "sir" and "ma'am" lots and was left a large tip. She could not have been happier. They looked like a promising couple. Jenny knew he was going to pop the question. She could tell. This was the place they came. All the happy people. All the ones that had someone. She looked at the credit card receipt and read, "Leroy". She sighed. Not for Leroy, but for all the Leroys that looked right through her.
Jenny stayed and helped bus the last of the tables after closing, and actually turned off the lights as she left for the night. The restaurant did not close early, but there was still plenty of activity on the street. A couple of blocks and she could be on the BART and back home. She was almost walked over by a woman in a black evening gown. They rounded the corner at the same time, obviously headed the same place, just coming from different directions.
Jenny recognized her. She was the girl with the Leroy. But she wasn't wearing an engagement ring. Jenny saw that right away. Jenny politely said, "Excuse me" as the Leroy's girl pushed past and was down the steps to the BART.
Jenny hesitated at the top step.
She looked back the way she had not come, and decided to retrace the other woman's steps. Not too far away, she spotted Leroy sitting on the steps of Union Square in the shadow of a big blue statue of a heart. He held an engagement ring with both hands.
Was it really that heavy?
Jenny felt a little embarrassed, and was going to walk on by, but he looked up and said, "Jenny? You were at the restaurant, right?" He had already hidden the ring somewhere.
He remembers my name? She thought. No one remembers a waiter's name. The Leroy's girl, must be a fool.
"Uh, ... uh, yeah."
"I'm Leroy. I was at one of the tables tonight."
His breath smelled of macaroni and cheese. She smiled, "Leroy. Right."
"Good seeing you." He stood and headed toward the BART.
"Heh, are you taking the BART?"
"Yeah."
"Mind if I walk with you?" She wondered if it was wrong to ask him for his phone number, taking advantage of a sweet guy on the rebound and all.
"No. Not at all."