Richard waited until the last credits of his nine o' clock show had scrolled away before shutting off the television set. He had been watching a History Channel program about the techniques used in the construction of the first skyscrapers. Richard typically watched dramatic shows and classic films from the 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s, but he found these skyscrapers fascinating. After the program was completely finished he checked his email and headed downstairs to the parking garage. Richard drove out of the garage of his Pasadena apartment complex with an air of deliberation. He maintained this care despite the fact that he was in no rush at all. It was a Los Angeles evening, that is to say, it was dry and 72? Fahrenheit as the sun glowed in dimmed defiance through the layer of smog covering the city. Richard turned onto Colorado Boulevard, Pasadena's main drag. It was 8:40 in the evening yet the streets still teemed with hundreds of shoppers enthusiastically patronizing the wide selection of chain stores such as Urban Outfitters, Barnes & Noble, and Starbucks that dominate Colorado Boulevard. Richard did not particularly like or dislike these chain stores. They were not good places to shop or bad places to shop, moral or immoral; they were objects that should be avoided by his 1999 Volkswagen Passat.
Richard was on his way to meet someone for dinner. Her name was Anna and they were scheduled to meet at an Armenian restaurant in Glendale called Massis at 9:00. Richard calculated that he would arrive at 8:57 give or take three minutes depending upon his luck with traffic lights, and the availability of parking spaces. A man driving a red suburban with a crack above the right tail light darted in front of Richard's Passat in an effort to merge onto 134. Richard cursed him. The suburban-driving rascal's impudence only further cemented Richard's hatred for highways. Drivers on surface streets were bad enough in the city of Angels.
The God of traffic lights smiled his emerald smile upon Richard and he arrived at 8:56. Anna had not arrived yet so he allowed a waitress to lead him to a table. The restaurant was large and ornately decorated. There were several huge tapestries scattered throughout the room that depicted men on horseback engaging in epic battles. These men were armed to the teeth and had jet black hair and sharply pointed beards. Richard stopped for a long moment as he became mesmerized by a pair of curved scimitars he noticed along a wall.
"I would like to sit near those swords," he told the waitress. She apologized and told him that that table was reserved. She proceeded to show him to a table by a window. Richard selected the seat facing away from the street because the constant flow of cars and pedestrians tended to make his stomach upset. He adjusted the silverware at his place such that the distance between the fork on the left side of the plate and the knife on the right side were equal. Richard adjusted his napkin horizontally in front of the plate until it was precisely parallel to the table.
A waitress led a woman to Richard's table. The woman wore a white dress. She had brown hair and Richard estimated her age to be somewhere in her mid thirties. Richard thought that she was very pretty.
"Hello," said the woman, offering her hand to Richard.
"I'm Anna, you must be Richard."
"That's right," Richard replied, shaking her hand with the same care he employed while driving.
"It's very nice to meet you, Anna."
"Likewise," they sat in silence for a brief and not unnatural moment. Something about Richard made Anna feel simultaneously confident and at ease. He was probably five to ten years older than she was. His dark hair was slick and greasy; he had well defined cheek bones and an imperial nose. It was ambiguous whether the grease was the result of a lack of hair care products such as shampoo, or large amounts of expensive hair care products. Anna had a sneaking suspicion that it was the former.
"Have you ever been here before?" she asked.
"No, this is my first time."
"It's really a wonderful little restaurant, one of my favorites."
"Did you know that Glendale has the highest population of Armenians outside of Armenia in the world?"
"No, I did not know that. That's very interesting."
"I love Middle Eastern food."
"Well I'm very glad," said Anna. "Jordan tells me that you met in college, is that correct?"
"That's right. We were roommates our freshman year at UCLA; he was the first person I met when I came to school. How did you two meet? He told me but I can't remember."v
"We work together."
"Oh, right. Jordan's marketing firm. What are you guys working on these days?"
"We've recently taken on an account with Volkswagen."
"I drive a Volkswagen!"
"That's wonderful," said Anna, smiling.
"Volkswagen has sent a dozen of their most promising young managers to America in order to better understand the market. We're putting together examples of a bunch of archetypal American consumers to help them understand our culture. We've got the soccer mom, young professional, etc. For each of them we have a mannequin dressed as they would dress surrounded by samples of products that represent their characters. Today I sent out one of our interns to buy an x-box game console and a bong for the trust fund kid."
"That's very interesting," Richard told her. Anna noticed that he had not met her eye with any consistency since the conversation began. After shaking her hand his eyes had flitted about like a nervous bird, but as she spoke for an extended period his eyes remained locked on her face. She could tell that he was attentive, yet he seemed somehow detached, as if his mind was two places at once. He finally broke his laser gaze to continue glancing through the menu. Anna had always been intrigued by eccentricity.
"Jordan tells me that you're a writer. What type of writing do you do?"
"I write television shows for children. For the last year I have been working on a show about pirates." Anna raised an eyebrow and Richard considered this action to denote interest.
"The twist is that the pirates are the good guys. They're fighting to save the world of Honalin from a wizard who's trying to cast a spell on the twelve seas. He turns the water into an evil murky blackness that nothing can live in except for monsters. The pirates have to steal magical treasures that protect the seas from Valindar. We're on the sixth episode now and three of the seas have been tainted already."
The waitress came to take their orders. Richard ordered lamb chops, Anna ordered Warak-Ianab-Bzeyt.
"How do you feel about wine?" asked Anna.
"What? Oh. Sure."
"We would like one bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, please," Anna told the waitress. The order was recorded and the waitress silently retreated.
"Wait, who's Valindar?" Anna asked. Her question was posed with sincerity, as if this same question was likely being asked by any number of people on dates around the world.
"He's the evil wizard."
"Makes sense. Valindar sounds like an evil name. So does the show follow a plot line?"
"Yes."
"Do you know how it's going to end?"
"Yes, but the problem is that our producers may pull the show anytime. It was a risky concept. Children's shows that follow a plot line either go big or bust if the kids miss an episode, they might just lose interest all together."
"How have the ratings been so far?"
"Mediocre."
"I'm sorry."
"It's alright," replied Richard, "I won't mind if they pull the show," Anna raised her eyebrows, "If they pull the show now, The Pirates of Honalin will be like a dream to millions of kids for the rest of their lives. It will be an elusive world that hovers between conscious and unconscious." Richard's voice rose as he spoke. He leaned in closer to Anna and his hand recklessly displaced a napkin as he clutched the table.
"I don't follow," she said.
"I think that we have succeeded in creating an engaging fantasy world. Our artists are really something and I'd like to think that it doesn't take more than a couple of episodes to draw a child into the storyline. If it stops now with three seas tainted and only two of the twelve treasures found, it will be just like some vivid dream. Children who watch The Pirates of Honalin will always wonder about it. I mean, most kids who think about it will remember it was a television show, but there will be no reruns, no DVD twenty years later to alter their whimsical childhood memories."
Richard delivered his ideas with fervor. He stared intensely at Anna; his eyes seeming to burn. The clatter of the restaurant seemed distant, muted in the enveloping silence. The silence was finally broken by Anna.
"That's an interesting idea ... although I would rather finish the series, have them all produced and aired. I would like the closure."
"Oh, I've already finished writing them all. I know what happens." She stared quizzically at him, pursing her lips, and Richard noticed again how pretty she was. Her dark hair was brushed back except for a few strands that had broken rank and settled against her cheek. Richard did not register the clichéd quality of the effect, it was just pretty. He suddenly realized that she might have found his speech strange.
A few minutes later the waitress approached the table with their food. She smiled pleasantly as she placed the dishes upon the table, Anna returned the smile. Richard picked up his silverware and began to scoop up a bite of rice with his fork.
"There's parsley all over this," he said, "I can't eat it," he lowered his fork back onto the plate, his face stoically blank.
"Are you allergic to parsley?" Anna asked.
"No. I just don't like it, it gives me a headache."
"You mean like ... an allergic reaction?"
"No," Richard replied vehemently, his eyes flashing angrily at Anna, "Parsley has always given me a headache. So does popcorn. That's why I hate movie theaters."
"I didn't ask why you hate movies theaters. I asked why parsley gives you a headache." Richard didn't say anything. He stared down at his plate filled with lamb, rice, and little green bits of parsley.
"I'm sorry," said Anna, lowering her gaze as well, "I'm sure they will take it off for you." As Anna guessed, the restaurant's staff was gracious in the face of their error, they swiftly returned Richard's meal parsley free and the two diners continued to eat. Richard noticed that it had grown dark outside some time ago. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and glanced down to check the time. He conceded his 10:00 show but 10:30 would not be compromised.
Richard made the decision not to miss his 10:30 show with the utmost conviction. However, without his even noticing, his resolve began to fade. The wine was almost gone at this point and it was beginning to have an effect. Their conversation smoothly transitioned from the best movies ("Apocalypse Now" according to Anna) to a discussion of the best way for the survivors to spend their time after a nuclear winter. Richard forgot where he was for nearly twenty-six minutes.
"I'd play badminton," giggled Anna.
"Why would badminton be any better after a nuclear winter?
"I don't know ... more choices for badminton courts? If you felt like it you could set up a court in the middle of 134 or in the Chinese Theater."
"What else would you do?"
"I'd watch mafia movies and videos of volcanoes. Volcanology is incredible. PBS has a great series on the Ring of Fire; I bought is so I can watch it whenever I'm not feeling well."
"I love volcanology!" Exclaimed Richard, "A few months ago I saw a show about Mt. blank. Did you know that blank?" Richard looked at Anna. He noticed that bits of her hair were over her face again, and he suddenly felt very nervous. She noticed that his eyes had begun to flit around again and wondered what he was thinking. In his mind he saw himself in his apartment with its walls covered in comic art and movie posters, the soft, silent carpet, the immaculate desk, the dining room table that was always set even though he usually ate in the kitchen. Anna was there too, she was sitting next to him on his couch, her hair streaming all around her face. With an effort, he brought his attention back to the present moment.
Dinner was nearly finished and Richard didn't know what to do at this point, so he tried to tell himself that there was nothing that should be done. They chatted about volcanoes for a little while but Richard was barely there, he was watching himself speak. The check came and Richard, remembering what men are supposed to do in this situation from his hundreds of hours spent with silver screen portrayals, offered to pay for the meal. Anna told him that he was silly and said that they should split it. Richard wasn't sure what men were supposed to say when women offered to split the meal and he was watching himself from a distance now, so by the time he thought of something to say the waitress had already come and taken away the check with both of their credit cards stuck inside.
"I had a very nice time," said Anna as she put on her coat. Richard wasn't trying to think of something to do anymore. He was focused on his 10:30 show, telling himself over and over again that it would be great. The last episode ended on a cliffhanger. It would be great, he would be comfortable again.
"I did too," he mumbled, "thanks for suggesting the restaurant. I love Middle Eastern food." Anna smiled warmly at him. She was slightly drunk and happy, and as a result, she was only slightly cognizant of his recent change in mood. Richard tried to force himself to think of something to say, but instead he thought about his 10:30 show. He said goodbye and began walking briskly towards his car.