The Perfect Moment

Just a couple of hours into September 30, 2003, with only a faint light coming from his computer monitor, Joey sat on his bed and sorted through the sizable memory box and several scrapbooks he had been given. He finally allowed himself to smile—even if just for a moment—as he recalled pulling into the spot next to Emily, from which she had started to drive away with her ballet slippers still on the roof of her car. Joey politely honked his horn a few times to get her attention, but she figured he was just being a rude, arrogant—typical male—driver. She stopped abruptly and shot out of her vehicle, which, at that point, was blocking two parking spots and half of the lane.

“What are you doing honking like that?” Emily shouted.

“What are you doing yelling like that?” Joey replied as he got out of his car. Slender but not muscular, Joey stood a couple of inches shy of six feet. “I was honking to get your attention.” He pointed to the ballet slippers on the roof of Emily’s car. Emily looked at them and felt embarrassment envelop her just as the fog would a cool summer’s morning in her hometown of Portsmouth, New Hampshire.

“Oh,” was all she was able to muster as a reply.

“It’s okay,” Joey smiled. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’ve had a bad day.”

“You wouldn’t know the half of it,” Emily said, now a little more at ease.

“Well, if you’d like me to know the half of it—or the whole of it—maybe we can meet later for coffee,” Joey suggested.

“Nah, that’s all right. I’ll be fine.”

“Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be here until eight tonight.”

“That’s three hours from now,” Emily said questioningly.

“I teach music lessons here at the Academy of the Arts. Helps put me through college,” Joey explained. “I’m in my second year at UNH,” he added. Then, a car—whose driver was obviously not privy to the fact that he was interrupting a momentous occasion—beeped at Emily. Emily looked at the car and then at Joey.

“Well, I should get going now.”

“Okay,” agreed Joey. As Emily started to get back into her car, Joey called to her. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Emily.” The car honked again.

“Okay, Emily. If you decide to come back tonight, ask for Joey.”

Emily smiled ever so slightly. “Bye, Joey.” And Joey watched Emily drive away.

Thinking he would never see her again, Joey entered the academy and approached the music department. As soon as he arrived, Cindy, the receptionist, called for him.

Holding her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, she said, “It’s for you. Perfect timing.”

“For me?” Joey asked, baffled that anyone was calling him at that time. He thanked Cindy as he took the phone from her.

“Hello?”

“Joey?” a familiar-sounding female voice asked.

“Yeah,” he confirmed.

“It’s Emily.”

“Oh, hey!” Joey exclaimed, a little surprised she was calling, especially given that he had just seen her not more than two minutes ago.

“Want to meet at 8:15 at Breaking New Grounds for coffee?”

“Sure…I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay, see you then.”

When Joey hung up the phone, he looked at Cindy. “Is a girl easy if she calls you two minutes after she meets you?”

“Would a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ make you happier?”

“Very funny,” Joey said, but Cindy knew he didn’t mean it.

“So just out of curiosity,” Cindy added, “isn’t this a little out of character for you?” She went on to explain, “You know…asking a girl out who you don’t even know?”

“Oh,” replied Joey. “I guess it is.”

“But?” Cindy asked, looking for a follow-up.

“But there was just something about her.”

“Her eyes?” Cindy suggested, somewhat facetiously.

“No.” Joey rethought his response. “Well, yeah…I mean, that’s just it: her eyes might be really nice. But it’s like…it was just the ‘whole package’ that intrigued me.”

Cindy smiled and nodded as she reached over to answer the ringing phone. Joey smiled as he made his way toward his instructional room to begin his first lesson.

Throughout Joey’s six lessons, he couldn’t help but wonder what his next encounter with Emily would be like. He was actually quite impressed with himself for even having the nerve to suggest that they meet for coffee. As Cindy had pointed out, it was certainly unlike Joey.

The three hours of lessons seemed to last an eternity, and he kept checking his watch in astonishment that it still wasn’t 8:00. “Hasn’t this kid been here for nine hours already?” he thought to himself as he listened to six-year-old Taylin play “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” with notes seemingly extracted from the score to Psycho.

Finally, though, after much anticipation and several supplications to God to make him temporarily deaf, Joey was free from his indentures and ready to make his way to the coffeehouse. It was about a ten-minute drive from the academy to the coffeehouse; he made it there in just under four seconds. When 8:15 rolled around and Emily still hadn’t arrived, Joey began to wonder if he was the victim of a cruel, heartless joke from a girl too dimwitted to remember to remove ballet slippers from her roof prior to operating a motor vehicle.

One minute later, he saw Emily headed in his direction. Joey admitted to himself that perhaps he had ever so slightly jumped the gun with his previous thought. As Emily was approaching Joey, she was fumbling through her purse. Only feet away, something unexpectedly fell to the ground. Joey quickly bent down to pick up the item for Emily. Just prior to taking it in his hand, though, he realized what it was that she had dropped. “Umm…” Joey thought to himself as he quickly grabbed the tampon that lay on the ground and handed it back to her. “Here ya go,” he clumsily blurted.

As she quickly stuffed said item back into her purse, Emily’s face turned a shade of red Joey had never seen before. He realized it made her even that much more attractive.

“Well, that was totally awkward and embarrassing,” Emily muttered uneasily as she intentionally avoided eye contact with Joey.

“Nah, if you want awkward, try having your grandma ask you to help unhook her brassiere when you’re, like, eleven years old.”

“Eww! Really?” Emily exclaimed, now a little more relaxed.

Joey chuckled as he nodded in confirmation. He opened the door for Emily, and the two entered the coffeehouse. After about seven or eight minutes of comfortable, natural conversation, Joey decided that falling feminine hygiene products and grandmother’s undergarments served as effective icebreakers.

As the two continued to speak, Joey looked at his menu and complained. “Grr…I hate that.”

“Dare I even ask what on the menu could possibly cause you such agony?”

“Why would they use a semicolon here?” Joey indicated the location of his grammatical woe. “Semicolons are used to join together two sentences that could otherwise stand on their own. ‘Rice pudding with whipped topping and a cherry’ doesn’t even call for a comma, much less a semicolon!”

“Okay, see, at this point, most girls would have politely excused themselves to use the restroom, and you never would have heard from them again. But I find it bizarrely fascinating that it meant that much to you to risk ridiculing yourself within the first ten minutes of us getting to know each other.”

“I’m sorry,” Joey replied. “I’m just really into language…and writing.” Joey went on to explain that he was majoring in English and Spanish. He also told Emily about his favorite hobby: songwriting.

“What kind of songs do you write?” Emily asked with peaked curiosity.

“Well, are you familiar with Barry Manilow’s music?”

“Umm…only because my mom blasts it when she’s cleaning the house. So basically you write mushy love songs.”

“Yeah, pretty much. And Broadway-style music, too. Does this now surpass my semicolon rant on your list of reasons why Joey’s a dork?”

“No, I still don’t think you’re a dork,” Emily confessed. “I’m actually…intrigued.”

“Really?” Joey felt almost proud. “Why’s that?”

“Well, it’s just that…so far, you seem like a nice guy. I mean, most guys—I’ve determined— are either jerks or gay.” Emily paused and then looked up at Joey. “You’re not?…”

“…a jerk?” Joey suggested, even though he knew what Emily was implying. “No. Are you?”

The server arrived to take their order. Two teas, a slice of cinnamon pound cake, and a chocolate chip cookie proved to be no challenge for Emily and Joey’s server, and she had the order on their table in no time. Just as Joey’s hand reached for a packet of sugar, Emily’s hand had the same intention. The two met at their point of destination in a strange but tender collision. “Sorry,” Joey blurted as his hand—almost as if not under the control of his mind—hastily retreated.

“That’s okay,” Emily smiled as she blushed slightly. Moments later, she jumped with excitement. “Listen to this song and tell me who sings it!” Emily exclaimed, referring to the music that was playing softly in the background of the coffeehouse.

“Umm…okay,” Joey responded. After listening for a few moments, he admitted, “I have no clue. Should I know?”

“Yeah…only because it’s one of the best songs ever,” Emily insisted. “It’s called ‘The Lady in My Life.’”

“Well, it sounds kind of like Michael Jackson, but I’m hoping that you wouldn’t be attributing top-quality music to Michael Jackson.”

“Just listen for a minute, Mr. ‘I Write the Songs That Make the Young Girls Cry.’”

However, the look on Joey’s face while he tried to give the song a fair chance indicated to Emily that he didn’t particularly enjoy what he was hearing. After about thirty seconds, he declared straightforwardly, “It would drive me to drinking.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “It might actually be the one thing that would make me start.”

“You mean, you don’t drink, either?” Emily asked, now thinking Joey was making all this up. But still, he seemed sincere and really had no reason to lie, so Emily kept her guard down a little.

“Nope, not at all. Actually, I don’t even drink coffee.”

“Wait,” Emily said. “You invited me out for coffee even though you don’t drink it?” she asked suspiciously.

“Yeah, I mean…but wouldn’t it have sounded gay if I’d asked you out for tea instead?” “Yeah, because nothing else you’ve said tonight would fit that bill,” Emily kidded.

The two smiled at each other as they sipped their tea at the same time. Joey looked at Emily. Her beautiful blue eyes mesmerized him. He loved how she had her dirty blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. He interpreted it as, “You were probably expecting me to do my hair tonight, but I don’t want you to think I spent too much time thinking about it.”

After Joey and Emily talked some more and finished their tea and desserts, Emily looked at Joey and admitted, “I think that’s pretty cool, by the way.”

“What’s that?”

“That you don’t drink. I mean, neither do I. Not with dance and all. No time. But it’s not like I’m dead-set against ever drinking. But it’s cool that you know that’s what you want, and so you go with it.”

As Joey was thanking Emily, the server arrived with the check. Joey picked it up off the table. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to pay.”

“That’s very nice of you, thanks. But I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. We’re here as friends.” Although Emily’s words actually discouraged Joey a bit, he didn’t let her see that. Instead, he smiled and nodded as he took a $10 bill out of his pocket. He placed it on the table with the check and got up to leave.

“Ready?” Joey asked.

“Wait, you’re leaving her a $3 tip on a $7 check? That’s like, 40 percent.”

“Thank you, Fibonacci,” he said sarcastically. “But yeah, she earned some ‘tip points’ tonight.”

“Tip points?” Emily asked with a confused look.

“Uh-huh. Throughout the meal or whatever, if they do good things, they earn tip points. If they do bad things, like not checking to see how we’re doing or messing up the order, then they lose tip points.”

“Well, I guess now I can say that you’re officially a dork.”

“Thanks,” Joey said proudly as the two exited the coffeehouse at around 10 PM. They stood in front for a couple of minutes, talking about a few things here and there, when Emily unexpectedly proceeded to reveal something to Joey that took him by surprise.

“I have to tell you this before we say good night,” Emily said seriously.

“Umm…okay,” Joey responded hesitantly, somewhat confused.

“Look, I have a boyfriend…Brian.”

“Wow,” Joey muttered in disbelief as he shook his head. “Surprisingly, I’m at a loss for words.”

Emily looked at him apologetically and continued, “I know you’re thinking I should’ve told you from the start—”

“Ya think?” Joey interrupted, perhaps a little rudely.

“Joey,” Emily tried to explain, “even for just the one minute in the parking lot when we met, I don’t know…I just knew I wanted to get to know you better.”

“Okay, but…” Joey’s voice trailed off, knowing that he had made his point.

“And now that I’ve gotten to know you a little better, I’d really love for us to be friends.”

“Ah, the magic ‘f’ word,” Joey sounded like he had heard it many times before. “Well, are you really into your boyfriend?” he asked.

“I’m not going to cheat on him,” she responded, not sure where Joey was going with his question.

“No, I wouldn’t cheat on my girlfriend if I had one. What I meant was, like, ‘Do you think it’s going to be a long-term relationship?’”

“Oh,” Emily comprehended. “We just started going out a couple of weeks ago. I mean, I’m here with you tonight, if that counts for something.”

Joey, with the faint belief that maybe someday things would be different, compromised. “Friends it is, then.”

When he got home that night, Joey called Brendan, his best friend from high school who was now attending college in California.

“That’s so cool!” Brendan replied to Joey’s summary of his evening with Emily. “The only thing is, she has a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I know,” conceded Joey. “But it doesn’t seem like anything permanent. Plus, if I’m in the friend zone now, maybe that’ll work to my advantage. I’ll get to know her better, and then maybe, well—who knows?”

“Yeah, I hear ya. Hopefully things will work out. You totally deserve a nice girl.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Anyway, I have an idea of what you’ll be dreaming about tonight. Just…good luck keeping your sheets clean, man,” Brendan joked.

“Sick—you’re totally sick. Goodbye.”

But Joey did know what he would be dreaming of that night…and he was perhaps slightly concerned for the integrity of his sheets.