Click a Chick - Conclusion

Other than the fact that I loved her.

I immediately sent Click A Chick, Inc. a text:

nd cell # last nt girl, elizabeth hav smthng fr her

The reply from Click A Chick was prompt:

no can do lgl issus stlkrs

WTF? I wasn't a stalker! I loved her! I texted back:

not stlkr lov her pls?

The reply a few minutes later:

srry

Just that. My desperation response text:

thn giv hr my cell 970-555-6754

The reply from Click A Chick, Inc?

ok no grntees

These people were buttheads, but at least they'd give her my number.

Or TELL me they'd given her my number. I became depressed again after the brief elation of having my cell number sent to Beth. I had no reason to stay in town, other than to see and talk to, one more time, the most beautiful girl in the world, but I could stretch out my stay in DC for one more night. I could only pray that they actually WOULD give her my number, and that she'd call.

Then I remembered that she'd said that she worked in her uncle's Italian restaurant in Georgetown. There couldn't be THAT many Italian restaurants there. I could go to them, one by one, and find her, or ask after her. It was the only positive action that came to mind, and far more preferable to sitting and waiting, miserable and missing her.

There was certainly no guarantee that she'd want to have anything to do with me, or felt anything like what I'd felt, but it was worth a try. I went to the hotel taxi stand, and told the Diamond taxi driver, a gruff looking unshaven type, that I wanted to hit each Italian restaurant in Georgetown. He looked at me curiously.

"What, are you queer for Campari?" he said. I became angry at his rudeness.

"No," I said. "I'm queer for the most beautiful girl in the world, and she works in one of those restaurants." I guess if you mix a 1940s screwball comedy with today's LGBT world, it makes some sense. The driver looked dumbfounded, but then shrugged.

"You know, on second thought, I don't think you and I are going to get along. I'll take the next taxi," I said. As I walked back to the next car in line, the first driver thumped on the side of his cab, and shouted insults.

It was very satisfying to piss that idiot off.

The next cab was driven by an elderly black man, who looked a little like the character actor Ossie Davis. I explained the basics of my quest to him.

"It would be my pleasure to get you to your desired destinations," he said. What a courtly old fellow! I climbed in, and we drove west towards Georgetown.

I wish I could report that I found Beth at the first restaurant, and she fell into my arms, declaring her love for me. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. At restaurant after restaurant, managers, waitresses, and even maitre d's shook their heads in the most discouragingly negative way.

My energy began to flag by the seventh restaurant. Of course, it was entirely possible Beth had just made up the whole story, and I was beginning to believe she might have. But she didn't seem like somebody putting on an act. She had been the most incredibly genuine person I'd ever met. I would see this through until the end, and I left the last restaurant as discouraged as I could possibly be.

I climbed back into the cab. By this time it was about 8 o'clock, and we'd been all over Georgetown for the last 5 hours. "Well, I haven't had much luck so far," I told the driver. I gave him a brief, and expurgated account of my quest, basically that I was looking for someone 'very close to me,' and was batting .000. I didn't tell him any of the particulars, of course.

He had a sad expression on his face when he saw how down I looked.

"No luck, huh?" he said. "Look, I'm so sorry, it must be tough to miss the one person in the world for you - yes, I can see THAT much in your eyes, young lady. I firmly believe we each get one special person, and mine would be my Leslie. Forty years we've been together." He paused. "You know, I still believe in the power of prayer. You might give it a shot. HE's always listening."

I smiled. "I'll bet SHE is. Maybe I will." I smiled, grateful for his interest in my desperate quest. "But could you take me back to my hotel now?"

"Certainly, young lady," he responded, with a gallant bow. He chatted as he drove east, across town, about what exactly, I couldn't say. He was about two blocks from the hotel, when he pulled over to the curb near Massachusetts Avenue, and said, "Here you go, this'll do you some good." He pointed to the doors of a church, a small building of red sandstone block construction, called 'Luther Place Memorial Church.' I looked at him quizzically.

"Look, I appreciate-"

"Now, no, no no....don't you go on with your excuses young lady, I have ALWAYS found it to be true that I find what I have sought in the church." With that he actually got out, and opened my door. I had no choice but to get out, handing him $500 for his time and trouble all evening. I figured I could just walk back to the hotel. Goodness knows, that close to the White House, security wouldn't be an issue.

But the old man wouldn't let me skip the church and get along to the hotel. Reminiscent of an expression I used to see on my father's face, he stood at his cab, with a similar look of 'you get your tail in there, little miss, or you will NOT hear the end of it!' So, to placate him, I went to the large oak doors, and was surprised to find the doors unlocked. I let myself in. A few minutes of meditation couldn't hurt - I'm not very religious. I had no idea what denomination the place was. After a little while I could walk back to the hotel, I thought.

The silence inside the church was overpowering. It was like when you walk alone or with a lover, at night in a heavy snowstorm, all noise is hushed. It was like that, and kind of comforting. The lights were low in there, but there was enough light to see by, especially with the few spotlights on different features.

I went to the last row of pews in the rear of the church, and sat down, wondering where I would go from here. I was kind of drawing a blank, but praying that 'Click A Chick' would come through for me, and praying that maybe whoever He or She is who pulls all the strings could cut me a break. I was actually getting some comfort from the whole thing, when someone at the front of the church abruptly got up and began walking toward the rear of the church.

I thought it might be the pastor attending to his altar, or one of the parishioners getting in some late night prayers. I had my head down, and I was surprised when I heard the person say something, the sudden sound, a shock in the quiet of the church.

"Lisa!", loudly. Then, as though realizing where she was, for it was a girl's voice, again she said, "Lisa!", this time in a softer whisper.

My head jerked up - it was Beth! "Ohmigod!" I blurted out. I jumped up, banging my knee on the back of the pew in front of me, pain shooting through my leg. "Shi-" I began, but remembering where I was, and also having something much more important to do than complain, I hobbled into the center aisle, and Beth took me in her arms.

"Oh my Lisa!" she said, several times, her face next to mine as we hugged, and held onto each other. I could feel tears running down her cheeks, then realized my cheeks were wet, too.

"I wasn't sure if I'd ever see you again!" Beth said. "Umm, you do want to see me, don't you?"A look of fear flickered across her face.

"Only every minute of every day to come," I said. "What happened? Why did you leave? Why didn't you leave me a note?" I was crying, I'm pretty sure it was because I was happy.

"Oh, I woke up and realized I was going to be late getting to work at my uncle's restaurant. I kissed you, and told you 'I love you,' don't you remember? You were kind of asleep, but I didn't have much time. I said I'd be back as soon as I could." She looked embarrassed. "I couldn't find my panties, so I wore yours from last night. Are you mad?"

"Uh, no...actually, I'm kind of turned on, thinking about you wearing my used panties," I said. "But, go on..."

"I hurried through my work at the restaurant, dying to see you again, and rushed back to the hotel. When I got back, you were gone. I asked at the desk, but they said you'd left. I thought they meant, for good. I didn't know what to do, and this older man, sitting in the lobby coffee shop overheard me, and said I should come here, to this church, that HE always found what he sought in a church, and I would too."

"An older man?" I said. "Was he black?" I was beginning to get suspicious, it's the lawyer in me. I don't believe in coincidences.

"No, he was a white guy, with an old-fashioned mustache. You know, like in westerns on TV?" That was puzzling.

Beth looked at me, eyes shining. Her grip on my hand tightened. "Oh, Lisa, I never want to let you go! Please say you feel the same!"

"Oh, I do, Beth, I love you so much. Let's get on back to my room - we have a lot of decisions, and plans to make. And I'd like to tell those idiots at the registration desk to get their facts straight. And, umm, do you think you could quit your job?"

"At my uncle's restaurant? Oh, I don't-"

"No, silly - at Click A Chick," I said. Beth nodded.

"Oh, yes! You're the only woman I ever want," Beth said, as she kissed my cheek softly.

"And Beth, I've GOT to know - WHAT is the name of your uncle's restaurant? I went to every single Italian restaurant in Georgetown, and nobody ever heard of you." She looked embarrassed.

"Umm, it's called 'Alfredo's," she said, looking at the floor.

"Alfredo's?" I repeated, puzzled. "I didn't see any Italian restaurant in Georgetown called 'Alfredo's'..."

"Well.....it's more of a pizza place," she said. "And it's kind of in 'north Georgetown', on Wisconsin Avenue..." Beth's face was turning red.

"It's blocks away from Georgetown, and a pizza place, and you call it a Georgetown Italian restaurant?" I asked.

"I kinda thought it sounded better, we sell calzones, too," Beth said, her face now bright red.

Her smile, though, was brighter than the sun. "You went to EVERY Italian restaurant?" Her eyes were moist. "You really DO like me!"

"Correction, I LOVE you," I said. We kissed, but chastely. After all, we were in a church.

As we walked down the church aisle, hand in hand (not for the last time, either!), we crossed the area in the rear of the church, where baptisms are performed.

"Look Lisa, what a beautiful baptismal font," Beth said, pointing at a carved white, marble bowl sitting on a pedestal. My eyes, though, were fixed on a simple 8 x 10 framed black and white photograph of two men standing together, one black, one white, on the wall above it, with a printed card below it that said:

"Donated by the LGBT Community Group in memory of Pastor Ezekiel Preston, pastor of The Luther Place Memorial Church, Washington, DC, 1972 - 1982. He and his life partner, Leslie Askew, established the Lutherans Concerned of North America LGBT program at Luther Place Memorial Church. Both men died helping others in the crash of Air Florida Flight 90 on January13, 1982. Requiescat in pace"

"Beth, that black gentleman looks like my taxi driver tonight....." a chill ran up my spine.

"Oh, Lisa, the man in the hotel coffee shop..." she said, then stopped and stared at me.

"Maybe you and I need to get to church more," I said, as we walked out the door and up the street, clinging to each other as though we were never going to let go.

*

Epilogue

It was a month later at my home in Ft. Morgan, CO, that Beth and I received a thank you card from Luther Place Memorial Church, for our $500 donation to their 'Homeless Youth Fund.'