Divots

Karen knew she should either laugh or fake it but couldn't.

"That's so interesting," she said absentmindedly.

Not offended by her seeming lack of interest in the least, Chris slid the first 'mailbox' into the small tunnel he'd dug underground, covered the access hole with dirt, then stood up.

"My dad is my hero. And my best friend. So anytime I get some spare time, I do what I can for him."

"So you're a pilot. In the Air Force," she continued, hearing what he said but unable to get over the shock of what he was telling her.

"I am. It's all I ever wanted to do. Granted, I wanted to fly something sleek and sophisticated, but I'm happy flying the E-4B. One day, maybe after a 20-year career, it'll serve as the perfect transition to a civilian passenger jet."

He set a second trap while Karen tried to sort through why she was feeling so discombobulated without much success.

"My dad also mentioned this was your father's place and that he passed. I'm very sorry to know that. I can't even imagine. Losing my mom was awful, but I was only ten."

She was finally getting a handle on her thoughts and said, "It's not easy. And I'm not complaining, but I lost my husband a year or so before that. I never dreamed my dad would die, too."

Chris looked right at her then told her again he was sorry.

"I hate that these are just words, but I really am sorry. I just wish there was some way to say something that made a dime's worth of difference. But death is so final."

"You don't belief in an afterlife?" she asked, not sure why she did.

"I can't say. Nor do I think anyone else can, either. Not honestly, anyway. You probably don't want to hear any more about that, so I'll stop," he said with a warm smile.

"No. Please. Share your thoughts. I've really struggled with faith the last year or two."

"I can imagine," he said before continuing.

"For what it's worth, my perspective is that all of the available evidence says that when we die, that's it. I know there are a ton of 'near-death' experiences, but to me, the key word is 'near'. Had they actually died, they'd, well, they'd be...."

When Karen didn't respond he apologized.

"Sorry. The first rule of business is to be honest. The second is to never, ever talk about politics or religion with a customer. I didn't mention religion, but that was too close, so I'll set this last trap and leave you be," he told her apologetically.

"No, you didn't offend me at all. I asked for your opinion. I guess I just thought that most people...in America...believed in heaven or some life after this one."

"Most still do, but the number that don't has grown rapidly. That said, I respect their right to believe anything they want or worship who or whatever they like as long as they don't advocate killing people in the name of their god. And having said that, let me say that I actually do see strong evidence in several areas that there was likely a designer of some kind. I just can't get from there to one who takes an interest in human affairs because the whole notion of 'answered prayer' is my um...my bridge too far. I suppose that makes me a Deist, but now I'm talking religion, and my dad would kill me."

He realized what he said then apologized for talking about death again, too.

"I'm actually fascinated," Karen told him. "I kind of know what a Deist is, I've just never met one before."

"I'm the only one I know, too," he told her with a laugh. "But unlike theism there isn't really anything to believe in or do except acknowledge that human beings were designed or created in some way a long, long time ago which doesn't rule out evolution. I can't even say who or what this designer might have been, but when they found the Rosetta Stone they didn't know its origins, either. That didn't prevent them from immediately recognizing that it was the result of a designing mind. Other than that...."

"So do you believe in evolution?"

"You're trying to get in trouble, aren't you?" Chris said with a laugh.

"No. I just think this is very interesting as losing the two men I loved the most so close together has made me ask a lot of questions. Unfortunately, I still don't have any answers. So I promise I won't tell your father you talked to me about anything but moles. And divots."

He laughed again then warned her he was passionate about this and could go on all day.

"Okay. Forewarned is fair warned, right?" she replied with a happy laugh.

"Fair enough. So...two things. I try to never use the term 'believe in' but rather 'is there evidence to support a belief in'. The second is it depends on which definition of evolution you're using. Evolution can mean any of three different things. I accept two of them. I just don't see enough evidence to justify belief in the third."

He smiled then said, "Which is why I'm a Deist. Am I'm boring you to tears yet?"

"No. Not at all. On the contrary. I've never heard any of this before. What can I read or watch to understand this better?"

"I have a small library full of books you might find interesting. At the risk of violating Dad's third rule of business, I'd invite you to have dinner with me so you can check them out and choose for yourself."

"Before I answer, what's the third rule?" Karen asked, a warm and fuzzy feeling developing in her tummy.

"No flirting with customers. Ever," he told her, a huge smile on his handsome face.

"Are you flirting?" she asked somewhat hopefully although not sure what it was she felt hopeful about.

"I don't care for 'spin', so I'll answer your question directly and honestly. Yes. I'm definitely flirting."

As he waited for a response, a warm smile on his attractive face, Chris asked her if it was working.

"I'm not sure," she said, which was either not true or only partially true which she understood made it 'spin'.

"Tell you what. If you'd care to join me one evening, I'll leave my number on the invoice in hopes that you might call."

"So you can show me these books that might enlighten me on...everything you said, right?"

Karen was smiling, although there was a little facial expression that made him laugh.

"Sure. Let's go with that and pretend I don't think you're a beautiful woman I'd also enjoy having dinner with and getting to know."

"Oh. Wow. Okay. I'm out of practice, but I'm pretty sure you're flirting now."

"I'm pretty sure you're right," Chris said with a laugh. "And as much as I love my dad he can't fire me, so it's worth the risk."

Karen loved his confidence. And his smile. He was clearly well educated, and he was a pilot. What reason was there for her to say 'no' other than his age, and after her brief...flirtation with the age question...she decided to accept his invitation.

"Okay. I'll take you up on your offer," she said in an agreeable tone.

"Great! Let me give you my address."

As he was jotting it down, along with his number, he said with a little chuckle, "And no, I don't live with my dad. Just in case you were wondering."

As before, he had a sudden realization that he'd stepped in it again. Karen had come home and lived with her dad. The smile vanished and Chris got serious.

"Karen. I didn't mean it like that. Really."

"I didn't take it like that," she said, looking at him in a way she couldn't have just moments ago.

"Whew. Thank you," was all he said. But the way he said it touched her deeply.

"So when did you want to do this?" she asked, sensing he genuinely felt bad.

"It's Sunday all day today. Is Sunday dinner too soon?"

Karen only had a couple of friends she could talk to since coming 'home', and both of them were married and didn't want her around their husbands, something she understood. So it wasn't as though she had a lot going on since her father's passing. In fact, other than working and tending to the house and the yard, she really didn't have anything going on.

"No. That sounds nice. What time?"

"If you want to help me prepare how about 5 o'clock? If you'd prefer to sit down to a finished meal, maybe...6:30?"

"Don't tell me you cook, too," she said, hoping to lighten the mood.

"I love to cook. Just don't tell anyone, okay?"

"Oh. My lips are sealed!" she told him as she did the 'lip zipping' thing only without throwing away the pretend key.

"Great! So I'll leave you with the two traps, and I'll be back to check them in a couple of hours," Chris told her. "If we don't have your divot maker by then I'll stop by before I call it quits for the day."

"Sounds good. And I have to tell you I'm looking forward to hearing your...what? Your philosophy on life, liberty and happiness?"

Chris laughed a little then told her it wasn't quite so all-encompassing.

"I'm just a kind of...seeker of truth...where 'truth' is defined as 'that which comports with reality'."

"That which comports with reality," she repeated. "I already feel very dumb."

Chris laughed again then promised her it wouldn't be deep or heavy.

"Just my own personal musings."

"On the insignificant little topic of...the meaning of life," Karen quipped as she tried not to smile.

"What can I say? That sort of thing interests me. Like Popeye said, 'I yam what I yam'."

He tried to initiate Popeye's laugh, but it was so bad that the imitation made her laugh.

"Yeah. I don't have much of a future in comedy or acting, do I?" he said with a dose of humility.

She wanted to tell him he was handsome enough to be an actor, but she barely knew him, and, unlike him, she wasn't a flirt. She did, however, enjoy being flirted with and now had what was essentially a date; her first actual date that didn't involve a website since her life took a sudden, unexpected turn for the worse. Or was it somehow possible it may have been for the better?

It intrigued her that perhaps something Chris might have to say could help her regain her faith in God; faith that had waned severely after her husband's death. She'd never been an evangelical but she'd been a Methodist who regularly attended church and one who believed God watches over us. But after her prayers for her late husband went unanswered, she wasn't so sure, so regardless of what Chris might tell her, she felt like she had nothing to lose and maybe something to gain.

Rather than respond to his mostly-rhetorical question about his comedic future she only told him she enjoyed talking with him and looked forward to doing more of that.

"Or in my case...listening," she said with a laugh that covered up her insecurity about knowing so little about such things.

"Anytime I start to bore you just stop me, okay? I'm passionate about philosophy, flying, fitness, and flapping...my gums."

Karen laughed again and decided she liked him. Young or not, he was a very nice guy, and if God really did exist, maybe he brought them together for a reason. Not to be a boyfriend, let alone a husband, but maybe...a voice of reason or some kind of...restorer of confidence?

After he left she thought about how she'd been so interested in the possibility of dating an older man just the day before and how quickly she'd forgotten all about that. While she realized the absurdity of actually dating a man as young as Chris, she couldn't help but think about what that would be like in the way she'd entertained dating someone his father's age.

Would there be enough common experience between two people separated by ten or more years? Was that really even important? What about her aging so much 'faster' than him? How could any young man want to be with...Grandma...after a decade or two? That alone convinced her the dating outside of her age group was a very bad idea. Talking and listening was fine. Dreaming was not.

"You're a mess, Karen," she told herself later that day after having thought about what Chris had said as well as what to wear on her first real date, which in her mind, was no longer really a date, with anyone but her late husband in many, many years.

As she was deciding, she heard a vehicle pull up. Chris was back after four hours and she went out to see if he'd had any luck.

He saw her then held up the plastic 'cage' and said, "Ta-da!" as a little mole poked its snoot around at the sides and top of the trap.

"Oh, my goodness. Thank you SO much!"

He bowed a little then said, "All in a day's work, madame."

She couldn't help but laugh and thanked him then told him to give her a sec and she'd get a check for him. She knew that a business typically paid a fee on a credit card, and she didn't want his father to lose money for her convenience. Besides, writing a check wasn't exactly a hardship. She just didn't write them very often anymore.

She returned with it then thanked him again.

"My pleasure. And...no more divots, right?" he asked with a smile.

"Right! Yes, that's worth every penny."

"Okay. So...I'll see you soon, I hope. As in this evening."

"You will," she replied rather sweetly.

"Oh. Red wine or white?"

"Either is fine."

"Okay. I'll pick up both just in case."

Back inside she returned to the 'what to wear' issue. A dress was too much. A tee-shirt was too little. She grabbed a long-sleeved sweater that was aqua-colored and a pair of jeans with some flats and liked the look. The top was pretty and she'd only worn it once, and since it was cool outside, it would be perfect.

By 6:45 she was ready to go and took one more look at herself just to be sure. She rarely wore lipstick, but she had a tube that was subtle enough to make her lips pop without drawing attention to them the way any shade of red would. This was almost the same color as her lips with just a hit of a copper tone in it. She put it on then re-decided she looked good enough.

Knowing the mind game she was playing with herself she asked, "So why are you so concerned about your appearance if this isn't a date?"

Her 'smarty pants' self came back with, "Duh! Because we always want to look our best, okay?"

The rational brain knew there was no way to win the argument, because it was always okay to look one's best, so she gave in and stopped thinking about it. Until she got to Chris's door when her insecurities came back.

"Karen. Wow. You look great!" he said the moment he saw her. "Please come in."

She thanked him for the compliment then stepped inside and took a quick look around. It wasn't as spartan as she imagined his bachelor pad might be, but it wasn't exactly decorated, either. What stood out to her was the way that everything was so organized and the apartment was clearly more than just functionally clean without appearing sterile. It looked immaculate. The word 'scientific' came to mind, and she had to stifle a laugh.

"You have a nice place," she told him truthfully after making a quick assessment.

"Thanks. It's not bad for me and my two roommates."

"Oh. You have other people living here?" she asked noticing it was a one-bedroom.

"Uh-huh. But it's just three of us. Me, myself, and I," he quipped in deadpan fashion.

Karen gave him a look then chuckled.

"I know. That was bad, but I got you to laugh, and that's never a bad thing."

"No. No, it isn't," she readily agreed.

"May I offer you a drink? I rarely drink alcohol, but I bought a bottle of red and a white just in case."

"I don't drink much, either, but I'll have a glass if you are."

"Red or white?"

"Either is fine," she told him again.

"I'm making roast chicken and red potatoes with asparagus so...white?"

"Sure. Sounds great. So does the food."

They spent the next few minutes talking about how he got interested in cooking as he worked away in the kitchen.

"Ah, well...I had a crush on a girl whose father was a chef at one of the nicer restaurants in Omaha. I asked my Aunt Judy for some help after she got me to tell her why. I was surprised to find out I liked 'pulling the whole thing together'. You know, getting the ingredients out and having everything ready at the right time. And tasting good, too, of course."

Karen laughed politely and found herself really enjoying the conversation as well as his surprise hobby. She was a decent cook herself, and she knew many great chefs were men, but she'd never personally known a man who really enjoyed it. It didn't take long to see that Chris knew what he was doing and that he was having a great time. Karen had no idea whether any of that was due to her being there, but she let herself believe that at least some of it might be.

They exhausted the topic of cooking fairly quickly and moved to flying at her request.

"I'll tell you, but then we're talking about you, okay?" Chris said as though that was a command.

It made her laugh and she warned him it might not be too interesting.

"Yeah, I find that very hard to believe," he told her in a way that made her feel good inside.

"When I was eight, a couple of years before my mom died, we watched the Air Force Thunderbirds perform. I...was...spellbound. From that moment on all I wanted to do was fly, and I wanted to fly for the Air Force. As I said, I had dreams of flying a fighter of some kind. You know, the Air Force version of Top Gun--a movie I absolutely loved, and the sequel is even better."

"I saw the first one but haven't watched the new movie. People say it's good."

"It's absolutely awesome. I wanted to stand at attention and salute Captain Tom Cruise. I don't know anything about his actual life except the Scientology thing and that he does most of his own stunts, but in that movie, he was a true American hero. In my opinion, of course."

"I will have to watch it sometime," Karen said.

"I uh, I have it on DVD. I know everyone streams everything these days, but I still like the old Blu Ray discs."

Karen was almost hoping there would be an invitation to stay and watch it, but that didn't happen. Her feelings about Chris and being 'with' him in any capacity were all over the map, and she'd just gone from feeling excited and hopeful to disappointed in five seconds flat.

"Long story short, I worked really hard helping my dad, and he helped pay my way through college. I worked nearly full-time, but without his help, I'd still be in debt. So as I said, I kind of owe him everything."

"He's a very nice man," Karen offered.

"Well, he thinks you're a very nice woman," Chris told her with a smile. "He told me you were beautiful, and he's right."

Karen suddenly rode her mental roller coaster back to the top of the mountain and was feeling wonderful again just like that.

"Well, I can definitely see where you get your good looks from," she said with a smile of her own.

"I'm gonna tell him you said that," he told her as he pointed at her as though she'd done something wrong.

That, too, made her feel good, and just as she was going to say something witty, or at least half-witted back to him, he told her it was her turn.

"Oh, my. I'm so boring by comparison. What's there to say? I grew up here, I went to the University of Nebraska...."

"Me, too!" Chris said, chiming in unexpectedly.

Karen wanted to asked what year he graduated, and yet she didn't want to know.

He apologized for the interruption and asked her to continue.

"I met my husband when I was 25. We got married two years later then moved to Massachusetts for his work. After he passed away I came back to live with my dad, and you know the rest of the story."

Chris gave her a serious look then said, "I hope you don't think you're gonna get off that easily."

"That's my story," Karen said before adding, "and I'm sticking to it."

"Okay. Fine."

He pointed at her again then said, "For now. And speaking of now, it's time to put the chicken and the potatoes in the oven."

Chris invited her to sit down in the small living room which was really more of a tiny area in the one larger, open room that was everything but the kitchen, bedroom, and a couple of closets, one of which contained a stacked washer and dryer.