First date.
The two words held me captive as I walked through South Station. It was the MBTA stop closest to Mastro's Ocean Club.
Pedestrians were busy threading their complex itineraries between the Greyhound terminals, the stairs leading underground, and the exits to the city.
Who knew how many of them were on their way to a first date?
Above the crowd, bold letters in garish orange and blue caught my immediate attention. Dunkin Donuts, they spelled. I had never realized the franchise was so abundant in the city. They advertised their carbs at every corner, doing their best to turn me into an addict.
Perhaps I should have invited Venus to grab some donuts at Dunkin's.
Would she like the Sugar Raised?
I shook my head no. Dunkin Donuts might have evoked a dimply smile from Braces, but Venus did not seem like that kind of girl. It would hardly be the wisest choice for a first date with her.
My first first date since Helen.
Dating Venus. The words had quite a ring to them.
A ringâand not the diamond-studded kind Braces was wearing when I had last seen her.
Was Braces a woman who could be bought with precious jewelry? She did not look the part. But Mister Chiseled Jaws did seem the type of guy who'd bribe a girl into his silken sheets. So maybe, she found macho males attractive.
Who cared? I most certainly did not. These two could tumble through these silken sheets of theirs as much as they wanted. They were no longer any business of mine.
Venus was.
And Venus was a Mastro's Ocean Club lady, not a Dunkin Donuts gal. And if she wanted Mastro's, she'd get Mastro's. Even if it was more than a mile's walk from the nearest MBTA station and might not offer a dessert better than the Sugar Raised.
And even if Mastro's might object to the smiley on my tie.
At least, Seaport was one of the few city districts that could easily be navigated on foot without making one feel like an idiot. It had decent sidewalks, lovely parks, and restaurants.
As I emerged from the station building and squinted at the evening sunlight, my phone rang in my pocket.
A thought made me freeze in my steps.
Was it Venus, balking?
No, it was Helen.
Curious, I took the call. "Yes, what is it?"
"Hey, it's Helen."
Her voice, surprisingly enough, had a friendly ring today. The kind of ring she used to snare bait with.
"Yes?" Phrasing the word with caution, I stopped at Summer Street, waiting for the traffic lights to put a halt to the endless flow of cars.
"I... There's a lot of noise on the line. Can you hear me well?"
"Yes. No problem, I hear you fine. It's just the noise of the traffic."
Mr. Ped Xing turned green, and I crossed.
"Traffic? Are you downtown?" she asked. "Going out?"
"Yes, I'm at Seaport tonight." It felt kind of nice to give her this news. For once, it was me who was enjoying the perks of being single again.
"Oh, great! Are you... getting together with the guys from the Institute?"
Someone was curious.
The thought of Helen being jealous made me grin. "Nope, it's no one you know."
"Oh..." She hesitated.
I said nothing, still grinning.
Helen eventually regained her voice. "Anyway, here's what I wanted to ask you. It's your 40th birthday in three weeks. And Janice has told me you are having a party and inviting some people over. So, I had wondered... if you'd need some help. I could take care of the kitchen while you're entertaining the guests. Prepare the food and drinks, you know, those kind of things."
Helen's little speech left me speechless.
Had she just offered to cook at my birthday party?
At a party I hadn't even invited her to?
I had actually thought I could invite Venus if Mastro's worked out fine.
But having Helen there at the same timeâthat just sounded awkward.
My ex pushed through my silence. "And I could also keep an eye on Janice."
The thought of our daughter made me recover my voice. "Thanks for the offer, Helen. But I'm good with the cooking." I was planning to have stacks of pizza and bowls of salad delivered right to my apartment front door. Fuck health food, it was my 40th birthday. "But I'd be happy if you could pick up Janice earlier that night, so she could sleep at your place."
That was something I had wanted to ask her anyway. And since she was offering help, this felt like a good moment to ask.
"Er..." I could sense her hesitation. She was clearly not happy with the way conversation was turning out.
"Please?" I asked. "She'd be bored to death at the party, and she'd not be able to sleep with all the noise."
I reached Seaport Boulevard bridge. The gentle waves of the channel below it gently shimmered in the soft light of the evening sky.
"Okay, I'll do it. For you, as a birthday present. When does the party start?"
"It starts at 7:30," I said. "So, if you could pick up Janice around seven, that would be great."
"I'll... I'll see what I can do. See you then. I've gotta run now, but it has been nice to hear your voice. Take care."
"You too," I said as the phone clicked off.
Pondering the exchange and its abrupt ending, I turned left after the bridge, following the pedestrian walk along Boston Main Channel. Boats of every kind cruised its crystal blue waters. The people on the shore were lazying around, enjoying  the warm weather, strolling, or just sitting on the benches.
Was Helen making an effort? Trying to re-establish our family of three?
I remembered the meerkats we saw at the zoo last monthâmeerkat Janice, meerkat Helen, and meerkat Evan, happily cuddling.
Human Janice had loved the idyll.
Could we get back there? Reclaim the lost territory? Give Janice the intact family she craved and deserved?
Why had we failed at it in the first place?
Helen and I had had our own first date when I was a Ph.D. student, and she just began working as an HR assistant at the university.
We were young, carefree, and eager.
Then, Janice came. And with her came the responsibility, the chores, and the burden.
She had put an end to the unfettered freedom of youth.
Suddenly, my evenings with Carl and the guys would leave my wife grounded, and Helen's sailing weekends would see me pushing a stroller along Seaport's shores.
The easygoing lives we had had before Janice were gone. And even though Helen was climbing the ladder of university administration, her salary and the little money I earned at the institute would always put a limit to what we could afford.
Now, with Janice older and my monthly pay promising more freedom, could we get back together?
I shrugged.
Not that I had minded strollering Janice along Seaport's shore, though. It had made me feel a proud and happy father.
And this evening, years later, found me at the Seaport's shore once again. This time I strolled without the stroller, as I strode across the meticulously cut lawn separating Mastro's Ocean club from the water.
The waiter smiled as I told him my name. He must have been already expecting me, as he motioned me to a table right by the windows.
He didn't comment on the bold, shiny smiley adorning my tie. I felt relieved to be admittedâbut a tad disappointed, too, at my act of rebellion going unnoticed.
The table setting for two was a poem of linen, silver, and crystal, accentuated by a vase holding a single red rose.
Outside the window, a line of birch trees and the calm water lay quiet under a sky on its way from afternoon blue to evening indigo.
Someone beside me cleared her throat.
Venusâshe had a bright, red-lipped smile on her pale face, and a space-black long dress caressed her curves in all the right places.
The unfettered freedom of my youth was gone, that may have been true.
But life heading towards its forties sure did offer charms of its own.