Sacrifice

(Challenge: 2nd Date with God)

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"Prove it.  What would you do?"

The question is a loaded one. She sits, utterly relaxed, cigar smoke pooling around her like some kind of halo. Her highball glass, half-emptied of an old fashioned, gently swirls as she toys with it.

I don't know what to say.

"I'd never really considered it, I suppose." It is all I can do to choke out that answer. To fill the empty air between us, I nervously sip on my bloody mary.

I know who she is, of course. She'd made it abundantly clear by demonstrating a minor miracle the last time we saw one another. I was charmed, amazed, and petrified, all at once. 

She'd done her best to soothe my fears, but it's hard not to be awestruck.  It's even harder to not be more than a little afraid.

I was half expecting a trumpeting Michael, or something, but was relieved when I received a simple text. "I'm having a drink at Paul's Place tonight at 7, if you'd like to join me.  I'll be glad to see you."

Unpretentious, unassuming, but still a little cocky. Like I didn't have plans tonight? Like I would just drop everything because she was going to be at some little cigar bar down the street from me?

Of course I canceled the dinner plans I had with my friends from work, and here I am.

What would you do, she aks.  The irony of the question isn't lost, to be sure. Images of cheesy bumper stickers flash in my mind, and I'm sure that is her intention. Legions of her lemmings practically line up wearing those tee-shirts and wristbands.

"We'll put a pin in that for now." Peering over the brim of her glass, I can see a hint of laughter in her eyes as she sips the whiskey.

I sigh with relief. "Thank you." I practically chug my cocktail.

"You seem nervous."

"You should be used to that reaction."

"I want you to be relaxed. Completely at ease."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" Wincing, I snatch the celery from my glass and chomp down on it, to keep myself from speaking further.

To my surprise, she laughs. It is a throaty, deep laugh, not at all matronly or familial. It is ... almost seductive.

For the first time, I truly understand why women fall for powerful men. Images of presidents, actors, and fictional president actors flash in my mind. They always managed to attract such unlikely partners.

"Yes, that Kevin Spacey is something else, isn't he?" Her tone is playful, but I still choke on my celery. "Careful, A. Chew. Swallow. Breathe. I admit, sometimes the design leaves a little to be desired, with life and death so close to one another. I'm also a little disappointed, sometimes, in running the plumbing through the recreational area, but, well. Life is balance." She puffs her Nat Sherman and smirks.

A few patrons turn to look at me. At her gesture, they studiously begin to ignore my coughing. Finally, I recover, and I finish my drink in one gulp. As if by magic, a waiter whisks away the old glass and replaces it with a new, fresh drink.

"It isn't that I doubt your dedication, Abe. Truly, I don't. I know you love me."

I furiously nod my head in the affirmative.

She continues, "It's just that, well. Sometimes, I require...proof. It isn't for me, so much, as it is for them." She gestures with her smoldering cigar at the patrons of the bar. "They're savages. They mean well, I know. But they're still practically cave men, trembling at thunder and losing their fucking minds at every full moon. Don't even get me started on eclipses. Jesus." The single large ice cube clinks as it bounces off of the glass as she drains it. Staring off into nowhere, she fishes out the orange slice, absentmindedly nibbling the fruit before discarding the rind onto her small square napkin. Before she speaks again, another Old Fashioned replaces her empty one. "The wait staff is very attentive here," she comments.

"I think they know you." I manage a feeble laugh.

"People haven't known me in a long time, Abe." Sadness creeps into her voice, and it scares me more than wrath. She turns her gaze towards me, peering within. "Tell me about Sarah."

It catches me off guard.

"Tell you what?" I'm flustered. "I mean, you already know, right?"

She sighs.

"Indulge me, would you?" Expectantly, she pulls on her cigar.

"I mean, she's a good woman. A great mother."

"But?"

"But we were just incompatible."

"So you're between wives, is it?"  Her eyes twinkle.

"Something like that. But I'm in no hurry to remarry."

"I see. Is that why you are on Tinder?"

"Well, yes. I mean, I get lonely."

"Oh, that I can understand."

"What about you? Why would you...need Tinder?"

"I tried Grinder for a while, but I got bored.  Not enough conversation. I figured I'd switch avatars, see what happens."

"Don't you already know what's going to happen?" I nervously pluck the olive from its little plastic sword.

"I still like to experiment, Abe. That's how we ended up with wonderful things like the platypus. And artichokes."

I don't quite know how to respond to that, so I go on about my ex-wife. "Sarah is a fantastic mother, but she agreed that we weren't a great fit. I mean, our parents arranged the wedding, and all that. Very old world."

"I'm fond of the Old World. People truly knew me, then."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to..." I trail off, thinking it best to just take another drink.

She sighs. "Oh, stop apologizing. You know me just fine. That's why we're here."

"To be fair, we're here because the picture you posted was hella hot."

She smiles. "Thanks."

"I mean, you practically look like a carbon-copy of Scarlet Johansen."

"There are no accidents, Abe."

"Right." Another nervous sip.  I consider asking about geoducks or naked mole rats, but I let it ride.  It's almost too easy to let my mouth run, with the Grey Goose coursing through me.

"You're right about Sarah. She is a good woman. I'm sorry you two haven't been able to make things work. I'll send you someone you'll be fully compatible with, if you like."

"I'm in no hurry. Playing the field has been fun."  I sip.

"You're getting no younger."  She sips.

"True. And my tastes seem to stay the same."  I sip a lot, blushing at the confession.

"Lucky for you there are a lot of ladies out there who like older, wiser men."  She spares me a small smile.

"I'm not exactly old, you know."

"No, but you will be."

"So you're telling me my future, now?" Vodka makes me bold, it seems.

She grins, and I relax. I'm not sure how far I can carry things with her.

Finishing with her cigar, she puts her elbows on her knees. Leaning forward, she peers into my eyes. It takes everything I have not to squirm, gazing into that beautiful abyss.

"I'm going to make your dreams come true, Abe. All of them. Every. Last. One. Because I like you." My reaction to her words is visceral. Crude.

She glances down at the physical manifestation of my enthusiasm.

Smirking, she traces a finger along my thigh.

"Answer my original question, Abraham. Will you prove that you love me?"

Stammering, I finally release a "Yes" at nearly a yell. To make sure my point gets across, I nod enthusiastically.

"Great. Then let's go pick up Isaac from his mom's house."

God help me, I know what she means me to do, but I still can't lead her out of the bar fast enough.