Someone else's shoes

 

We haven’t exactly had glorious Florida weather for the past few weeks, so with another blustery upper-60s day, My Guy and I happily chose an inside table at the waterside restaurant for another mid-week lunch. It’s always breezy here, and the closer you get to the water, the more the wind picks up.

          We could see several groups of people on the porch right outside our window, and they looked comfortable enough since the restaurant had strategically placed wind shades to slow things down a bit.

          Halfway through our lunch a young couple arrived, he, fit and handsome, her, willowy and very attractive with long silvery-blond hair framing her face. I watched with interest as they chose a table outside, diagonally across from our window.

          My own hair is long enough to be an issue, so I’ve become skilled at outside dining. A slight breeze : loose hair but sunglasses on top holding it back. A stiffer breeze : sunglasses + ponytail. So windy all napkins go flying : ponytail + baseball cap.  

          The young lady was facing me, and I decided that judging by her continuous smiles and fussing with her long, long hair – they must be on a date. Perhaps they chose their table because its view was unimpeded by a shade, but he sat with his back to the sun while she was pinned to her chair as though in a 1,000 watt spotlight.

          In spite of her sunglasses, in order to see him, she had to constantly hold one hand over her brow while controlling her hair and also attempting to eat her lunch.

          Along with knowing I would by then have slapped a ball cap on my head, I began to ask myself questions.

          Why didn’t he see how uncomfortable she was and switch seats?

          Or change tables?

          Did she need his approval so badly she was willing to put a brave face on wind and sun?

          Juicier than that – maybe this was a power play situation: hostage? Sex worker?

          It certainly added spice to my crab cake.