The Date (a short story) ☔🌁🌉📚🐠💐

 It's a rainy October day in San Francisco.

It's also a foggy day in San Francisco, where the dismal cotton candy formations make it  muggy, and therefore additionally miserable.

He is tall, handsome, with dark tan skin and a full head of effortlessly, yet perfectly-styled, thick black hair in a "curtains" cut that would have fit in very nicely in any 90's Tiger Beat. He wears Buddy Holly-style glasses, an Amos Goldbaum MUNI shirt under his vintage navy blue track jacket, and second-hand knock off versions of Diesel trousers and Saucony shoes. His entire life is held in the pockets of his knock off Diesel trousers; his pockets protrude a little from how much they hold, and he jingles when he walks. He is quiet, shy, and patient. 

She is considerably shorter than he is. She is also tan, but lighter. She has shoulderblade length thick dark hair with a slight wave. She has bright green eyes that sparkle mischievously. She wears a Freddie of Pinewood Red Plaid Work Blouse under a well-preserved blue cardigan with elbow patches from Forever 21, circa the mid-aughts. She wears a nondescript dark brown miniskirt, black tights, and long since discontinued John Fluevog ankle boots. She carries her entire in her vintage brown leather purse, and also jingles when she walks. She is less quiet and shy, but is similarly patient, though less patient than he is.

They are perfectly matched.

They met on MUNI. They had caught each other's eyes for several months before she finally broke the silence, asking politely, but coyly, "may I sit with you?"

It's raining today. The orange and brown leaves from the few trees which are not evergreens and the blood red fallen leaves of the Japanese maples litter the path of the 38, and sparks appear from the wires for the trolleybuses. The buses are packed, wet, dirty, and humid. Everyone is miserable, and the windows are steamed up.

He pulls the cord for the 6th avenue stop, she collects their cats and dogs umbrella, and they disembark the bus. She steps out first and holds the umbrella on her tip toes so that it is high enough to cover him. They huddle under it together and walk to their first stop.

Their first stop is the Green Apple Books on Clement, a block over from their bus stop. This is the first, and perhaps main location. Neon signs blaze in the window. It has labyrinthian twists and turns, and feels like a Nancy Drew novel with hidden (although not) staircases. It feels as though this location is hiding secret debaucheries of an older San Francisco, yet is satisfactorily what one would expect from a used bookstore. He wants to find I Am Half-Sick of Shadows, and is uncharacteristically annoyed he can't find it, despite walking right past it when they came in.  She has her sights on finding one of the Mark Twain novels that told of the further adventure of Tom Sawyer and friends that border on fan fiction, had they not been written by the man himself. 

She teases him that she can get to the second floor before he can, racing up the stairs, but not before taking one of the novelties on the shelves on the landing to purchase on their way out. He doesn't try to race her, he just lets her win. The upstairs always feels like a secret, even if it isn't one. Even the music room feels like a hidden passage way under the stairs.

They leave with their books (he eventually found his) and a reissued Dononan record hugged tight to her chest in a brown paper bag; he now holds the umbrella. They spent so long in Green Apple, the sky has grown dark, and the neon from the neon signage in the different windows reflect on the wet pavement. They cross Clement to the 6th Avenue Aquarium & Flowers, another local legend location, although for perhaps less than savory reasons. How this place is still open is a mystery to all;  unethical animal husbandry practices met also, of course, the with the questionability of selling sharks and puffer fish as pets. If you can look beyond the rows of dirty tanks with half dying or already deceased fish, it is a remarkable gawk at a free aquarium. The second-story claustrophobic walkway I am sure is a place no one wants to be in an earthquake, but somehow private enough for a quick exchange. (Although, really, who wants to kiss in front of unstable tanks of half-dead fish?)

He buys her flowers from the front of the store on the way out, as a toll for not buying any of the fish and spending a considerable amount of time just lookie-looing at the fishes' various misfortunes. It is now fully dark outside. It is raining a little harder, and it is still misty outside. He takes her photo in front of the store, under the overhang so that the sea horse statue is in the frame and the neon lights from the storefront reflect on her face. They make their way back to Geary waiting for the bus. He is patient, she is less so. They chat briefly. She mentions that she would like to go to one of the "real" aquariums soon.

Most of today's outing was spent in silence, wordless exchanges. It was not an overtly romantic outing. It was not even overtly remarkable. It was, however, everything she had always wanted. It was the kind of memory-making day and you replay the Super 8 reel of over and over again in your mind for decades to come. It was not overt, it was not showy, it was not costly.

It was, however, everything she had always wanted. It was as if the day had existed just for her, as though she had dreamt it into life. It was as if someone had heard her whispers out onto the ocean during solo night walks along the intermitted lit pier. A new lifetime of small moments complied into a greater life experience.

A day that had everything she had always wanted.

Yes, even with the rain.