Breakfast at McDonald's

Paul was sitting in his usual spot at his usual McDonald's, reading the Morning News and eating his usual breakfast - a Sausage McMuffin with Egg, hash browns, two milks, and a large coffee that he would take with him to school.

Paul was thirty-nine - still ten years away from middle age, he told himself - and alone. His brief marriage, to a sweet and lovely woman who turned into a cast-iron bitch before the wedding cake was stale, was far behind him. He had had a few involvements since, but had never found what he wanted.

What Paul wanted was a friend, a lover, and - something else. Something very particular, to him very precious, though a little peculiar. And he had given up on finding it.

He had no illusions about himself as a rare catch; he knew he was short, a little pudgy, and not particularly handsome. He knew he had a nice, if infrequent, smile, and women seemed to like his eyes; but physically, there was little else about him that women found appealing.

As a lover, he knew, he was perhaps too gentle and giving. He no longer expected to find a woman who could appreciate him for what he had to offer, though, and had grown used to bring alone.

But he still dreamed and hoped and speculated. And he still liked to look.

Paul opened the paper to the comics pages - his favorite part of the paper - and looked toward the front counter of the restaurant.

He wondered if she would come in today.

A young woman he had come to think of as "that pretty auburn-haired girl" came in almost every morning and ate a Big Breakfast while sitting across from him. And she always looked sad.

Paul himself was always saddened by her apparent depression. He suspected he knew the reason for it.

The woman was, to Paul, wildly attractive. She was his own height, about five-foot-six; she had wonderful dark-auburn hair which she kept very short; big, beautiful hazel eyes with long lashes; full, rosy lips and smooth, clear, pale skin as white as ivory; and a sweet, shy manner that he found charming and endearing. She was, to Paul, one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

But - she was not as slender, even skinny, as current fashion dictated was necessary for a woman to be attractive. She was, in fact, rather heavy; Paul estimated her weight at around two hundred pounds.

Which was fine with him. Paul LIKED women with lots of soft, generous, feminine curves that bounced and jiggled when they moved - but so many such women seem so unhappy with themselves.

And it was clear, to Paul, that this lovely red-haired creature was one of those. She always wore loose, sacklike dresses and layers of fabric in an obvious but futile effort to hide or disguise her size, and she walked in a self-conscious and closed-in kind of way that indicated she'd rather not be noticed.

Paul found it sad. He had seen it so many times; beautiful but lushly proportioned women who dressed and carried themselves in this way, and who were so clearly ashamed and unhappy. He sometimes wanted to take them by their shoulders and shout at them, "You are BEAUTIFUL! You are DELICIOUS and DESIRABLE and HOT! Anyone in your life who tells you differently is a FOOL! And someday you'll meet a man who can see you as you ARE, and he'll PROVE it to you!"

He thought of her, sipped his milk, and wondered what her name was.

So lovely....

And then she came in.

Frumpy frock, purse clutched protectively to her generous bosom, beautiful eyes darting around nervously - his heart melted, as it always did.

He wondered what she would look like wearing nothing. Radiant, he thought.

As she stood in line at the counter, he caught her eye and lifted a hand in greeting; she smiled and nodded to him. Though they had never spoken, Paul's was a familiar face that she saw almost every morning, and they always acknowledged each other with a smile or a lifted hand or some other small gesture of recognition. It had become part of their morning routine over the past few months, ever since Paul had moved to north Dallas.

When she had her tray, she moved toward her usual table, across from Paul - but it was occupied. She looked around in confusion - and, it seemed, in embarrassment.

Pail saw the reason for her distress instantly. The only unoccupied tables were near the window, high tables with high stools that would be difficult and uncomfortable for her to reach.

He quickly slid out of his booth and beckoned her, gesturing with exaggerated chivalry at the seat opposite. She smiled gratefully and approached. "Please, join me," he said before she could speak. "It's crowded in here today."

"Thank you," she said quietly as she slid into the booth. "Are you sure you don't mind?" Her voice was low and melodious, sensual somehow; Paul thought of a well-played clarinet.

"Not at all," he said with a grin. "It'll be nice to have some company at breakfast." He resumed his seat and smiled at her.

She smiled back, but said nothing. After a moment, she opened her Big Breakfast and began to eat. She seemed to have a hard time meeting his eyes.

"My name is Paul," he said.

She looked up. "Mine's Elizabeth," she said shyly. "My friends call me Beth."

He smiled again. "May I call you Beth?"

She smiled back, though cautiously. "Okay."

They ate in a mildly awkward silence for a few moments. "Would you like to look at the comics?" he finally asked. He offered her that section. "Best part of the paper."

She hesitated, looking at his face. Paul had the impression he was being measured or examined, somehow. He smiled, and warmly; he just liked her. She seemed as sweet as she was pretty.

Beth finally smiled back and nodded. "Yes... Yes, I would. Thank you! I've always liked the comics." She took the paper from him and began to read the strips. He couldn't help noticing where her eyes went first, and he smiled again.

They ate in silence again for a few moments. "What's your favorite strip?" he asked.

She looked up with an embarrassed smile. "I like 'Love Is...'" she said. Her full, creamy cheeks took on a slightly rosier hue.

Paul smiled. "Kim Casali's panel," he said. "I like that one too. It's sweet."

Beth blinked, looked down at the paper, then back at Paul again. "That's right!" she said. Her eyes narrowed and she looked down at the paper again. "Okay, who does 'Pearls Before Swine'?" she asked with a quizzical smile.

"Stephen Pastis."

Her eyebrows went up, and she consulted the paper again. "'Get Fuzzy'?"

"Darby Conley."

"Okay," Beth said with a smirk. "I've got you this time. Who does 'Sally Forth'?"

He grinned. "Francesco Marciuliano and Craig MacIntosh."

She goggled at him, her shyness forgotten. "That's amazing!" she exclaimed. "How come you know so much about the comics?"

Paul shrugged. "I've loved cartoons since I was a kid," he said. "Other kids read about sports stars; I read about cartoonists. I even cartoon a little myself."

"Really?"

He flipped the paper to an advertising page that was mostly white space, took a pen from his shirt pocket, and quickly drew a comical head of a bald, mustached man in a coat and tie who was frowning. It took no more than ten seconds.

Beth looked at it and laughed. "That's amazing!" she said again. "And you did it so fast!"

Paul grinned and followed it up with quick cartoons of a dachshund, a wide-eyed cat, a puzzled-looking horse, and a giraffe. Beth laughed at each one and looked at him in admiration, her big hazel eyes sparkling. Her self-consciousness seemed to have evaporated.

"Those are really good! Is that what you do for a living?"

"No," Paul said with a smile. "I'm a fourth-grade teacher. It comes in handy, though. Saves me a fortune in reward stickers."

"You're a teacher?" She looked down at her forgotten breakfast and took a bite.

"Mmm-hmm," said Paul, taking a bite of his own. He swallowed and asked, "What do you do, Beth?"

She shrugged. "I'm a nanny. I take care of a single mom's two children. She's a teacher, too."

"So we're basically in the same line of work."

She smiled ruefully. "Except you have a degree and I don't."

He made a dismissive sound. "Pfft! The longer you go to school, the dumber you get."

She looked at him wryly. "You don't really believe that."

"In some ways, it's true. Like Paul Simon said - "When I look back at all the crap I learned in high school - "

"It's a wonder I can think at all," they finished together, and laughed. "He's my favorite songwriter," said Beth.

"Really? Mine too. I don't think he's ever cut a single track I didn't like."

They looked at each other for a moment, smiling, friends. Then Beth looked at her watch. "Oh, sh- uh, fooey. I'm gonna be late!"

Paul looked at his too. "Whoops! I'd better go, too. It won't do for teacher to be tardy."

They gathered their trash and stood. "Thanks, Paul," Beth said, shy again. "This was fun."

"It was, wasn't it? Meet you for breakfast tomorrow?"

She looked at him, and Paul once again felt he was being measured. Then she smiled.

"Sure. Why not? See you tomorrow."

Paul smiled back, then said, "Here, I'll take that," indicating her tray. "You go ahead. My school's just a few blocks away."

"Thanks," she said again, and hurried out.

He dumped the two trays in the trash receptacle, then watched as she walked across the parking lot. ThIs is important, he thought. Will she look back?

She did. He waved, and she waved back with a smile - a smile that held no hint of self-consciousness.

Beth, he thought as he started his car. Her name is Beth.

---

The next morning, Paul was waiting at his usual table - with two trays. When Beth entered, he beckoned her over; she pointed at the counter with a questioning look, and he grinned and shook his head, pointing at the table.

She approached, laughing to see that he had already ordered her breakfast. "Here, let me pay you for that," she said as she sat down.

"Don't be silly. I just thought I'd save us some time. Small price to pay for good company."

"Well, thank you," she said uncertainly. They opened their breakfasts and began to eat. He handed her the paper, already open to the comics pages. "Oo, thanks!" she said.

"Check out 'Pickles" today," he said. "It's really cute." She did, and laughed.

Then, laughing around a mouthful of biscuit, she asked, "Did you see 'Rose is Rose'?"

He nodded. "One of my favorites," he said. "A happy family. I like that."

"Me, too." she hesitated, then added, "It's nice to see two people in love like that. Even if it's just in a comic strip." She looked at him, then reddened a little.

The moment could have been awkward, but Paul grinned. "I've got high hopes for Luann's brother Brad, too. His romance with Toni seems to be going well."

She laughed. "If TJ doesn't screw it up," she said. Then she looked at him. "Isn't it funny how you get to care about the people in the comics?"

"The good strips do that," he said. "They become kind of real. It's like a good book or movie. You can tell when the writer likes his characters." He smiled. "I can see you're a big fan, too."

She smiled back and nodded, then looked at him curiously. "What do you think is the greatest comic strip ever?" she asked.

He thought. "That's hard," he admitted. "'Peanuts' is kind of the standard, but artistically it never impressed me much."

"Mmm," she said, nodding, her mouth full of eggs.

"I liked 'Calvin and Hobbes,'" he said, and Beth flapped her hands excitedly.

When she swallowed, she said, "Oh, me too! That strip was such fun! I have a lot of the books!"

"I have the big collection," Paul admitted, blushing a little himself. "All of them."

"Wow!"

....They were almost late again.

---

The next day, they talked about music, and discovered that their tastes matched there, too; the next day, it was movies. The next, books; and then TV shows. They both confessed to being Star Trek freaks.

That was a Friday, and they had had breakfast together every day for a week. "Have you seen the new Star Trek movie?" he asked as they finished their Egg McMuffins.

Beth shook her head. "No," she said, "But I've heard it's really good."

"Would you like to go?"

She blinked and looked at him. "You mean, like - like on a - "

"A date. Yeah," he said. "And have dinner too." He smiled. "How about it? I really want to see it, and I'd hate to go alone."

She looked at him, nonplussed. "Tonight?"

"Why not? It's Friday."

"O-okay," she said. "Okay. Sure. Uh, what time?"

"Well, let's look." The movie listings were in the same section as the comics, and they bent over the page together. "Ever been to the Studio Movie Grill?" he asked. "We can have dinner while we watch the movie."

"That sounds fun!" she said, and he was pleased to see a hint of sparkle in her eyes. "Do you want me to meet you?"

"Okay," he said. Best not to push it, he thought.

"Where is it?"

He smiled and pointed. "Right over there," he said.

The theater was in the same shopping center as the McDonald's. She blinked, surprised, then giggled. "Well, I think I can find that," she laughed.

The movie started at both seven and eight o'clock. They chose the later movie - each knowing that they wanted a bit of time to get ready, though not speaking of it - and agreed to meet at 7:45. Then they finished breakfast and went to their cars.

She looked back at him twice this time, and he noticed a small spring in her step.

He smiled and thought, move over, Brad. This romance looks promising, too.

---

Paul found himself shaving with extra care, choosing a soft, cuddly turtleneck and a casual sport coat, and slapping on a little extra Old Spice.

Then he brushed his teeth again. You never know...

He was early, and stood outside the theater for twenty minutes or so before Beth arrived. She was wearing a long dress, loose and flowing, of a flattering forest green. He noticed she had taken a bit of care with her makeup, which she normally didn't wear; her big eyes looked even bigger, and her full, lovely lips were tinted a slightly darker pink. She wore dangling gold earrings, a matching pendant, and pretty gold-colored sandals.

Even her feet are beautiful, he thought. "You look delicious, Beth," he said with open admiration.

He couldn't tell if she was wearing blusher, but her cheeks grew a bit pinker at that. "Thank you," she said quietly. Her shy smile was endearing. Then she added, "I don't think anyone's ever called me 'delicious' before."

He grinned. "You're beautiful," he said with unaffected admiration.

She stopped and looked at him. Her face was oddly blank.

"I mean it," Paul said softly. "You are." Then, before she could react further, he said, "Come on. We don't want to order after the movie starts."

They took their seats, in big office-style chairs sharing a small table in front of them, and looked at the menu. "I hear the pizza is good," he murmured in her ear. "The burgers, too."

They settled on burgers, and as they sat back to watch the previews, he took her hand. She let him.

He squeezed - and she squeezed back.

---

The fries were excellent, the burgers better, and the movie was best of all. As they left, they talked about it excitedly.

"That was amazing!" said Beth. "I heard it was good, but - "

"Stunning," Paul agreed. "Roddenberry would have been proud."

Beth stopped in her tracks in the parking lot. "Oh, my God!" she said, her face alight.

"What?"

"I just realized - they really started it over, didn't they?"

"What do you mean?"

"It started a different timeline! They aren't tied to anything that happened in the series any more!"

He blinked. "You're right!" he said. "All bets are off. A real reboot." he shook his head. "Brilliant," he said.

"I can't wait till the next one!" Then she looked at Paul. "I don't want to go home. I want to talk about the movie some more."

"How about Starbucks? There's one on Forest."

"Okay!"

"Let's go in my car," said Paul. "Silly to take two. I'll bring you back here later."

"Okay," she said again. "The guy who played Spock was perfect!" she bubbled as they walked to his car - and this time, she took his hand.

---

They closed the place down, drinking decaf lattes and talking - at first animatedly, then more and more quietly.

As they drove back, she was oddly quiet. Then, just as they turned into the parking lot where she had left her car, she spoke softly: "Paul?"

"Yes?"

"Do you really think I'm pretty?"

He glanced at her as he pulled his car in beside hers. She was looking at him starkly, her lovely, round face open, vulnerable, and a bit fearful- but her eyes were hooded and dark.

He smiled. "I didn't say 'pretty,' Beth." He set the parking brake and took her hand yet again; they had held hands for most of the evening, even at Starbucks. "I said 'beautiful.' And I meant it." On impulse, he lifted her small, plump hand to his mouth and kissed it.

"But I'm so f-"

He touched her mouth with his fingertips. "Don't say it," he said.

"But-"

"Beth." He looked at her, his eyes soft and serious. "You. Are. Beautiful." He smiled at her childlike, puzzled look.

He touched her face again, brushing her soft cheek with his fingertips. "Beth, listen to me." His voice was low, but clear. "I love the way you look. There is not a single thing about you that I'd change. Nothing. Do you understand me?"

"But-"

"I love your butt," he said, then grinned.

She blinked, then laughed. "Really?" she said. He could see the light in her eyes coming back.

"Real women have curves, Beth," he whispered. "I like real women. You turn me on. Okay?"

She nodded, and he saw her small smile. "Okay," she said softly.

"C'mere," he said, and pulled gently at her hand. She slid closer, and he put his arms around her, also gently.

He held her, and he felt her humming tension, her uncertainty. He stroked her back and cuddled her a bit. "It's all right, Beth," he whispered, his mouth an inch from her small, pink ear. "Really, it's all right. I mean every word. It's all right."

"I think it is," she whispered back. "Yes..." And he felt her relax against him.

He kissed her - gently, again - and her mouth was as soft and sweet as he had thought it would be.

She kissed him back, and then they just held each other for a while without speaking.

"Thank you, Paul," she finally breathed.

He chose to take it another way. He leaned back and looked at her, smiling. "No, thank you," he said. "The movie was great, wasn't it? Did you have a good time?"

She smiled back at him, her big eyes bright. "The best," she said.

"Can I call you tomorrow?"

She grinned at him, at ease now. "You better," she said with a lilt in her voice. They laughed, and he escorted her to her car.

Before she got in, she turned toward him, and he took her in his arms again and held her close. Her arms went around his back too, and they kissed again, warmly.

Not intimately, yet; too soon. But he knew - and knew that she knew - that that would come soon.

Another quick, small kiss, and she slid into her car and was gone, but with a wave.

Paul drove home, dreaming of her lips and of the full, soft breasts she had pressed against his body, and of the warmth of her in his arms.

For her part, Beth drove home in a bit of a daze. She, too, had given up on love.

Was this really happening?

---

The next day - Paul called, all right. He called at eight o'clock in the morning.

Beth answered blearily, her voice thick with sleep: "H'lo?"

"Good morning! I'm sorry I woke you. I just couldn't wait."

She smiled sleepily, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "That's OK, Paul. Good morning."