Dorsai - Taxi

I grinned at her via the mirror and said "Point taken", and got a smile in return. Fair enough – each of us had staked out our 'territory' in the relationship we'd have over the next day or two.

When Jenny first stepped into my place, I could see from the expression on her face that it wasn't anything like what she'd expected: it was clean, neat, and somewhat spacious. My furniture wasn't antiques, but it wasn't beat-up garage sale rejects, either; I had simply bought the stuff with quality and comfort in mind, not with any idea of impressing anyone. Along the longest wall in the living room was a bookcase that I was continually adding on to – at the time, it was 12 feet long, 6 feet high, and full, with another couple dozen books stacked on the floor at one end. I was already planning how to add to the shelves by going around a corner and building more shelves along an adjacent wall.

In one corner was my 'reading' chair, an extremely comfortable recliner, with a small table next to it, that sat under a short section of track lighting with halogen lights aimed at it from the back. Nearby was the sofa-bed that I slept on when I first got started as a cabbie; once I'd had it re-upholstered, it was amazingly comfortable. Across from that was what I suppose could be called my 'entertainment center': another set of shelves that held my TV, VCR, stereo system, and all my videos and music.

Scattered around were small-to-medium paintings that I'd bought. Most of them were from 'unknown' artists – but it was the paintings themselves that had gotten my attention: a landscape, a portrait, a couple of impressionist pieces, and even an abstract.

As she was turning her head and looking the place over, my cat Demosthenes came out from under the sofa to introduce himself to her. She really didn't notice him until he started stropping himself against her ankles and purring loud enough to raise the dead. She bent down long enough to pick him up, and ratcheted his purring up a couple of notches by rubbing his ears as she walked over to look at what books I had. She walked the length of the shelves before turning back to me and asking "You've read all these? All of them?"

I laughed, and answered "Oh, those are just the ones I wanted to keep. That couple that aren't put away yet, there at your shoulder, I haven't read, yet, but all the rest of them, yes."

"But there are books here that I didn't even know existed until I got to college, and took an advanced Literature course! And I see all this stuff here by Plato and Socrates and Descartes and what I'm pretty sure I remember as other philosophers, too… you actually read all these? For fun?"

"Sure, why not?"

"I didn't think anybody actually read this stuff for fun – I mean, not anybody that I'd ever actually KNOW, or outside of school."

"Well, school is where I got introduced to some of them. I read Ayn Rands 'Fountainhead' and 'Atlas Shrugged' in high school, along with Plato's 'Republic', but the rest of them I didn't get to until college."

She looked at me in amazement and asked "You've been to college?"

"You don't have to sound quite that surprised, but yes, I did. I majored in Philosophy – at least, until I realized that most of what they were trying to teach me was so much bullshit, and dropped out to become a cabbie."

She looked at me doubtfully, and I told her "Really – I was, and I did. Sit down. I'll get us something to drink, and tell you about it."

She parked herself at one end of the sofa, and after telling me what she wanted from the choices I offered, I went into the kitchen to get us some drinks. When I got back, I handed her the soda she'd asked for, and took a sip off my beer before sitting down at the other end of the sofa. Then I explained to her how I'd been going to school to get a Philosophy degree (she was mildly impressed with the school I'd been attending), and dropped out when I'd realized that the author of a book I'd had to read was a Famous Name because he argued that the English word 'water' didn't have any meaning because the word for water was something else in other languages. I eventually had to dig out my last gradecard from college to prove to her that I really, truly had been a student there before she was fully convinced. Then she insisted that I tell her about my career as a cab driver, from the time I got started until then – and more to the point, why I'd chosen to become a cabbie. When I was finished, I could see that she'd decided I was worthy of a lot more respect than she'd first thought.

Then it was her turn to tell me about herself: how she'd grown up in a fairly well-to-do part of San Francisco, gotten decent grades in school, and gone on to college without having the faintest idea of what she wanted to do for a career. Then she'd discovered that the doodling and drawing she liked to do was a good start on a career as a commercial artist, and got herself focused on that. Then, when she'd graduated, her family had gotten her a job with an advertising company owned by another Chinese family they knew. She lived in a condo her parents were paying for – she did have to pay her own utilities, phone, and so on – and her car had been a college graduation present from her folks; it had replaced the car she'd gotten as a high school graduation present. By the time she was finished, I knew that I'd been right: she was spoiled (even if not as badly as I'd feared), and had never really had to live completely on her own.

By the time we'd finished swapping stories, it was time for us to start thinking about getting something for supper. When I said that I was getting a bit hungry, she said that she was, too, and offered to pay for dinner. I said that I'd agree to her paying, but only if I got to pick the restaurant; I could see that she figured I had an ulterior motive, but said that was fine with her.

We went out to my 'personal' vehicle, an old Volvo 264, and I got us to one of my favorite restaurants. It was probably the equivalent of one of those national chain places, with a couple of notable differences: being local, it had it's own character (instead of National Bland), the food was significantly better. I went there often enough that several of the staff knew me by name, which slightly surprised Jenny. We were quickly taken to an out-of-the way booth where we'd have a little privacy, and given our menus. After a little discussion, we were ready when Eve came to take our orders – that nights Special, catfish dinners. Jenny was more used to her fish meals being sea bass or swordfish or something equally 'highbrow', but had been willing to follow my lead when I suggested that she wouldn't regret it.

As we were waiting for our meal, I took the opportunity to tell her "You said that you were just looking to 'spend some time with somebody' after I picked you up at the airport earlier. That's something that's kind of open to interpretation, so I want to let you know that I'm not coming into this with any expectations of any kind. There's a double bed in my bedroom. The door locks from the inside, and it has its own bathroom; and the sofa we were on converts to a bed, too – and it's fairly comfortable. So there's a place for each of us to sleep alone if that's what you want; just let me know which one you would prefer. Or, if you like, we can sleep – SLEEP! – together. I'm not some sex maniac that can't control himself around a pretty girl. I know that sometimes it's nice just having another person next to you when you go to sleep at night. While we're together, I'm not going to be any more undressed than you are. But if you decide to run around in your bra and panties, don't be surprised if I look – but that's ALL I'll do, is look; I'm not going to consider it as some kind of invitation to grab you, or throw you down and ravage you or anything. Things are only going to happen between us IF, and as fast as, you decide they should. I'm not going to 'test' you or push for things to happen – it's up to you to make it clear what you want between us. Okay?"