CHRISTINA

Christina stared out through the dining room window with dwindling anticipation as she finished her glass of wine.  Two hours preparing dinner.  She didn’t even like mutton, but it was Daniel’s favorite.  Now it was drying in the oven while the mint gravy congealed on the table.  Finally she turned away and blew out the remnant of the candles.  She tossed the remaining log in the fireplace, and drained the bottle of expensive Merlot.  Fine wine was supposed to be sipped. She didn’t care.

She had opened it earlier to let it breathe as she recalled their first date.  He had driven her to an obscure little restaurant in his convertible.  Government approved “safe cars” weren't supposed to go that fast.  But his car wasn’t one of the late model cookie cutter G cars.  It was an antique convertible, a restored relic from an era when fossil fuel was cheap and abundant.  She had loved the thrill, the passing blur, and the cool, evening wind pushing in her face.

She had wondered what kind of place he would choose.  An image had popped into her mind: a white horse, a shining knight, and a royal ball.  It was a girlish thought, but that was how he made her feel, giddy and adolescent.

The pathetic “restaurant” had squatted at the end of a row of dilapidated warehouses, leaning precariously to one side.  It resembled more than anything else an abandoned farmhouse sitting by the side of some rural road with warped and sun bleached boards dangling off a splitting porch choked by a sea of neglected weeds.

Inside, it didn't seem quite so deteriorated.  Only because of the poor lighting, she remembered.  He'd led her across the smoke filled room to sit at a table she could barely see.  Soft romantic music hid in the background, blanketed by subdued conversations from shadowed couples.

“I hope you like it,” he had said with an almost apologetic look.

She had loved it, an international mixture of French, German, and Moroccan delicacies.  She had leaned close, enjoying the faint aroma of his cologne.  He had tried for a candle-lit dinner, but the wrinkled little owner had objected, afraid of offending the other guests who apparently desired to be more discreet than they.

His closeness had excited her.  The nervous butterflies were back in her stomach.  It had been a long time since any man had caused that feeling.  She liked it.

That evening had passed quickly.  All too soon, they were standing in front of her apartment saying good bye.  He squeezed her hand before leaving.  He had tried nothing more than to hold her hand all evening.  Not the Daniel she had heard about.  Although she had been at the company only a few weeks, recruited from Cal Tech during the final weeks of her doctorate, she had already heard plenty of interesting gossip.  And most of it concerned Daniel.  She had wondered how much of it was true.  Fidelity didn't seem to be his strong point.  Well, she could change that, she had thought.

She had been wrong.  It seemed the white knight had silently ridden away.  She finished the glass of wine.