Atlantea Ch. 04

"No, my profession is electrical engineer. But you are not entirely wrong, I do take athletics exceedingly seriously."

"What sports do you do?"

"Are you familiar with the martial arts?"

"Yes, actually," I said.

"Oh," she said excitedly, "What style do you study?"

"Sorry," I said, disappointed in myself. "I'm just a big fan, especially MMA."

She looked pleased with this answer, grinning broadly, and I felt like my whole body was melting.

"MMA? Then you are familiar with the style I practice. It has no name here, but it is closest to Gracie Jiu-Jitsu."

"Wow, do you watch UFC?" I asked, hopefully.

"Oh yes, with conviction."

"Who's your favorite fighter?"

"Donovan Sargeant," she answered without hesitation.

'A true fan! I am in love. Even more than I already was!' I thought.

"You know, this is gonna sound crazy, but would you believe I've given Donny a massage?" I said.

"You have? How did you possibly achieve that?" she asked, wide-eyed with interest.

"I did an internship with the company that runs UFC when I was getting my bachelor's degree. The pay wasn't great, but I got to meet most of the fighters, and my main job was post-match recovery specialist. Which is a fancy way of saying massage lackey."

"Now I am jealous!" she said.

This seemed like an opportunity to propose we go to a fight together, which would be a plausible excuse to get her number. But I was too nervous, and the moment passed. Instead a sudden panic descended on me, albeit briefly, because the natural pause in our conversation could have been the ideal time for her to politely break off and go talk to other people. I became certain she would excuse herself.

To my undying relief, she seemed to be in no hurry to move on. Instead, we continued to talk, and drink, even as the rest of the patrons began filtering out. Phoebe and the other expecting moms were the first to leave, as they were sleepy, and eventually even Rhea left, after making sure Calista could make her own way home. In the end, it was just Sandra, Calista and I left. I am not sure what time it was.

"Hey you two," Sandra said, leaning on a mop, "I hate to do this to y'all, 'cuz you're jus' so darn cute sitting there, but I gotta close up shop here."

Calista and I were shocked to hear this, only dimly aware of our surroundings. It seemed like Rhea had left just seconds ago, when in reality it had been over an hour. Our conversation just never seemed to come to a natural end; we jumped seamlessly from topic to topic, without pause, and without getting bored. We had an uncanny number of shared interests beyond being MMA fanatics. Among the things we had in common, she also enjoyed dancing, was a huge gym rat, and loved many of the same books.

She laughed hard at the stories I told about growing up in my oddly girl-heavily family. I had a number of "odd-man-out" tales based on the fact that I had no brothers, and four older sisters. Like me, Calista's family was female-heavy too, yet another point in common. As far as I could tell, she had no male siblings, instead having many sisters and girl cousins. She seemed to use the words "sister" and "cousin" interchangeably, though, so I could not get an accurate sense of how many of each there were. She never mentioned a father, so I assumed her parents had either never been a couple, or had separated, or perhaps her dad had passed away.

With the bar about to close, I had one last chance to get her phone number. I decided my best bet was to use the idea of taking her to a UFC bout as a pretext for getting her phone number. Even if no matches were upcoming, I could, with more time, find a reason to contact her about something else. Just as I had mustered the courage to ask, she spoke up instead.

"Jason, do I remember correctly that you and your former partner used to do salsa dancing?"

"That's right, Meg and I actually met at this one club. It's in a real rough neighborhood," I said, "but they have the best musicians, and the dancers really know their stuff, too."

"If it would not be an imposition, would you be willing to accompany me to this club of which you speak? I have always wanted to learn salsa, and perhaps you could instruct me. I believe it is similar to a style we enjoy back in my country."

"Yes, I would like that," I said, as coolly as my soaring heart would allow. "Would Thursday night work?"

She agreed, gave me her phone number, and we soon parted, our respective Ubers having just arrived.