๎e taxi arrived and we made an intermediate stop at the ๏ฌower shop. I had not been inside this shopโor indeed purchased ๏ฌowers at allโsince I stopped visiting Daphne. Daphne for Daphne; obviously the appropriate choice for this evening was roses.ย ๎e vendor recognized me and I informed her of Daphneโs death. After I purchased a dozen long-stemmed red roses, consistent with standard romantic behavior, she snipped a small quantity of daphne and inserted it in the buttonhole of my jacket.ย ๎e smell brought back memories of Daphne. I wished she was alive to meet Rosie.
I tried to phone Rosie as the taxi approached her apartment building, but there was no answer. She was not outside when we arrived, and most of the bell buttons did not have names beside them.ย ๎ere was a risk that she had chosen not to accept my invitation.
It was cold and I was shaking. I waited a full ten minutes, then called again.ย ๎ere was still no answer and I was about to instruct the driver to leave when she came running out. I reminded myself that it was I who had changed, not Rosie: I should have expected her to be late. She was wearing the black dress that had stunned me on the night of the Jacket Incident. I gave her the roses. I read her expression as surprised.
๎en she looked at me.
โYou look di๏ฌerent . . . really di๏ฌerent . . . again,โ she said. โWhat happened?โ
โI decided to reform myself.โ I liked the sound of the word:ย re-form. We got in the taxi, Rosie still holding the roses, and traveled the short distance to the restaurant in silence. I was looking for information about her attitude toward me and thought it best to let her speak ๏ฌrst. In fact she didnโt say
anything until she noticed that the taxi was stopping outside Le Gavroche
โthe scene of the Jacket Incident. โDon, is this a joke?โ
I paid the driver, exited the taxi, and opened Rosieโs door. She stepped out but was reluctant to proceed, clutching the roses to her chest with both hands. I put one hand behind her and guided her toward the door, where the maรฎtre dโ whom we had encountered on our previous visit was standing in his uniform. Jacket Man.
He recognized Rosie instantly, as evidenced by his greeting. โRosie.โ
๎en he looked at me. โSir?โ
โGood evening.โ I took the ๏ฌowers from Rosie and gave them to the maรฎtre dโ. โWe have a reservation in the name of Tillman. Would you be kind enough to look after these?โ It was a standard formula but very con๏ฌdence-boosting. Everyone seemed very comfortable now that we were behaving in a predictable manner.ย ๎e maรฎtre dโ checked the reservation list. I took the opportunity to smooth over any remaining di๏ฌculties and made a small prepared joke.
โMy apologies for the misunderstanding last time.ย ๎ere shouldnโt be any di๏ฌculties tonight. Unless they overchill the white Burgundy.โ I smiled. A male waiter appeared, the maรฎtre dโ introduced me, brie๏ฌy complimenting me on my jacket, and we were led into the dining room and
to our table. It was all very straightforward.
I ordered a bottle of Chablis. Rosie still seemed to be adjusting.
๎e sommelier appeared with the wine. He was looking around the room, as if for support. I diagnosed nervousness.
โItโs at thirteen degrees, but if, sir would like it less chilled . . . or more chilled . . .โ
โ๎at will be ๏ฌne, thank you.โ
He poured me a taste and I swirled, sni๏ฌed, and nodded approval according to the standard protocol. Meanwhile, the waiter who had led us to the table reappeared. He was about forty, BMI approximately twenty-two, quite tall.
โProfessor Tillman?โ he said. โMy nameโs Nick and Iโm the headwaiter. If thereโs anything you need, or anything thatโs a problem, just ask for me.โ
โMuch appreciated, Nick.โ
Waiters introducing themselves by name was more in the American tradition than a local custom. Either this restaurant deliberately chose the
practice as a point of di๏ฌerence, or we were being given unusually personal treatment. I guessed the latter: I was probably marked as a dangerous person. Good. I would need all the support I could get tonight.
Nick handed us menus.
โIโm happy to leave it to the chef,โ I said. โBut no meat, and seafood only if itโs sustainable.โ
Nick smiled. โIโll speak to the chef and see what he can do.โ
โI realize itโs a little tricky, but my friend lives by some quite strict rules,โ I said.
Rosie gave me a very strange look. My statement was intended to make a small point, and I think it succeeded. She tried her Chablis and buttered a bread roll. I remained silent.
Finally she spoke.
โAll right, Gregory Peck. What are we doing ๏ฌrst?ย ๎eย My Fair Ladyย story or the big revelation?โ
๎is was good. Rosie was prepared to discuss things directly. In fact, directness had always been one of Rosieโs positive attributes, though on this occasion she had not identi๏ฌed the most important topic.
โIโm in your hands,โ I said. Standard polite method for avoiding a choice and empowering the other person.
โDon, stop it. You know who my father is, right? Itโs Table-Napkin Man, isnโt it?โ
โPossibly,โ I said, truthfully. Despite the positive outcome of the meeting with the Dean, I did not have my lab key back. โ๎at isnโt what I want to share.โ
โAll right, then. Hereโs the plan. You share your thing; tell me who my father is; tell me what youโve done to yourself; we both go home.โ
I couldnโt put a name to her tone of speech and expression, but it was clearly negative. She took another sip of her wine.
โSorry.โ She looked a little apologetic. โGo.ย ๎e sharing thing.โ
I had grave doubts about the likely e๏ฌcacy of my next move, but there was no contingency plan. I had sourced my speech fromย When Harry Met Sally. It resonated best with me and with the situation and had the additional advantage of the link to our happy time in New York. I hoped Rosieโs brain would make that connection, ideally subconsciously. I drank the remainder of my wine. Rosieโs eyes followed my glass, then she looked up at me.
โAre you okay, Don?โ
โI asked you here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.โ
I studied Rosieโs expression carefully. I diagnosed stunned.
โOh my God,โ said Rosie, con๏ฌrming the diagnosis. I followed up while she was still receptive.
โIt seems right now that all Iโve ever done in my life is making my way here to you.โ
I could see that Rosie could not place the line fromย ๎e Bridges of Madison Countyย that had produced such a powerful emotional reaction on the plane. She looked confused.
โDon, what are you . . . what have you done to yourself?โ โIโve made some changes.โ
โBig changes.โ
โWhatever behavioral modi๏ฌcations you require from me are a trivial price to pay for having you as my partner.โ
Rosie made a downward movement with her hand, which I could not interpret.ย ๎en she looked around the room and I followed her eyes. Everyone was watching. Nick had stopped partway to our table. I realized that in my intensity I had raised my voice. I didnโt care.
โYou are the worldโs most perfect woman. All other women are irrelevant. Permanently. No Botox or implants will be required.โ
I heard someone clapping. It was a slim woman of about sixty sitting with another woman of approximately the same age.
Rosie took a drink of her wine, then spoke in a very measured way. โDon, I donโt know where to start. I donโt even know whoโs asking meโthe old Don or Billy Crystal.โ
โ๎ereโs no old and new,โ I said. โItโs just behavior. Social conventions.
Glasses and haircut.โ
โI like you, Don,โ said Rosie. โOkay? Forget what I said about outing my father. Youโre probably right. I reallyย reallyย like you. I have fun with you.
๎e best times. But you know I couldnโt eat lobster every Tuesday. Right?โ
โIโve abandoned the Standardized Meal System. Iโve deleted thirty-eight percent of my weekly schedule, excluding sleep. Iโve thrown out my old T-shirts. Iโve eliminated all of the things you didnโt like. Further changes are possible.โ
โYou changed yourself for me?โ โOnly my behavior.โ
Rosie was silent for a while, obviously processing the new information. โI need a minute to think,โ she said. I automatically started the timer on
my watch. Suddenly Rosie started laughing. I looked at her, understandably puzzled at this outburst in the middle of a critical life decision.
โ๎e watch,โ she said. โI say โI need a minuteโ and you start timing. Don is not dead.โ
I waited. I looked at my watch. When there were ๏ฌfteen seconds left, I assessed that it was likely that she was about to say no. I had nothing to lose. I pulled the small box from my pocket and opened it to reveal the ring I had purchased. I wished I had not learned to read expressions, because I could read Rosieโs now and I knew the answer.
โDon,โ said Rosie. โ๎is isnโt what you want me to say. But remember on the plane, when you said you were wired di๏ฌerently?โ
I nodded. I knew what the problem was.ย ๎e fundamental, insurmountable problem of who I was. I had pushed it to the back of my mind since it had surfaced in the ๏ฌght with Phil. Rosie didnโt need to explain. But she did.
โ๎atโs inside you. You canโt fakeโsorry, start again. You can behave perfectly, but if theย feelingโs not there inside . . . God, I feel so unreasonable.โ
โ๎e answer is no?โ I said, some small part of my brain hoping that for once my fallibility in reading social cues would work in my favor.
โDon, you donโt feel love, do you?โ said Rosie. โYou canโt really love me.โ โGene diagnosed love.โ I knew now that he had been wrong. I had watched thirteen romantic movies and felt nothing.ย ๎at was not strictly true. I had felt suspense, curiosity, and amusement. But I had not for one moment felt engaged in the love between the protagonists. I had cried no tears for Meg Ryan or Meryl Streep or Deborah Kerr or Vivien Leigh or
Julia Roberts.
I could not lie about so important a matter. โAccording to your de๏ฌnition, no.โ
Rosie looked extremely unhappy.ย ๎e evening had turned into a disaster. โI thought my behavior would make you happy, and instead itโs made
you sad.โ
โIโm upset because you canโt love me. Okay?โ
๎is was worse! She wanted me to love her. And I was incapable. โDon,โ she said, โI donโt think we should see each other anymore.โ
I got up from the table and walked back to the entrance foyer, out of sight of Rosie and the other diners. Nick was there, talking to the maรฎtre dโ. He saw me and came over.
โCan I help you with anything?โ โUnfortunately, there has been a disaster.โ
Nick looked worried, and I elaborated. โA personal disaster.ย ๎ere is no risk to other patrons. Would you prepare the bill, please?โ
โWe havenโt served you anything,โ said Nick. He looked at me closely for a few moments. โ๎ereโs no charge, sir.ย ๎e Chablis is on us.โ He o๏ฌered me his hand and I shook it. โI think you gave it your best shot.โ
I looked up to see Gene and Claudia arriving.ย ๎ey were holding hands.
I had not seen them do this for several years.
โDonโt tell me weโre too late,โ said Gene, jovially.
I nodded, then looked back into the restaurant. Rosie was walking quickly toward us.
โDon, what are you doing?โ she said.
โLeaving. You said we shouldnโt see each other again.โ
โFuck,โ she said, then looked at Gene and Claudia. โWhat are you doing here?โ
โWe are summoned to a โthank-you and celebration,โโ said Gene. โHappy birthday, Don.โ
He gave me a gift-wrapped package and put his arm around me in a hug. I recognized that this was probably the ๏ฌnal step in the male-male advice protocol, indicating acceptance of the advice without damage to our friendship, and managed not to ๏ฌinch but could not process the input any further. My brain was already overloaded.
โItโs your birthday?โ said Rosie. โCorrect.โ
โI had to get Helena to look up your birth date,โ said Gene, โbut โcelebrationโ was a clue.โ
I normally do not treat birthdays di๏ฌerently from other days, but it had struck me as an appropriate occasion to commence a new direction.
Claudia introduced herself to Rosie, adding, โIโm sorry, it seems weโve come at a bad time.โ
Rosie turned to Gene. โA thank-you?ย ๎ankย you? Shit. It wasnโt enough to set us up: you had to coach him. You had to turn him into you.โ
Claudia said, quietly, โRosie, it wasnโt Geneโsโโ
Gene put a hand on Claudiaโs shoulder and she stopped.
โNo, it wasnโt,โ he said. โWhoย askedย him to change? Who said that heโd beย perfectย for her if he wasย di๏ฌerent?โ
Rosie was now looking very upset. All of my friends (except Dave the Baseball Fan) were ๏ฌghting.ย ๎is was terrible. I wanted to roll the story back to New York and make better decisions. But it was impossible. Nothing would change the fault in my brain that made me unacceptable.
Gene hadnโt stopped. โDo you have any idea what he did for you? Take a look in his o๏ฌce sometime.โ He was presumably referring to my schedule and the large number of Rosie Project activities.
Rosie walked out of the restaurant.
Gene turned to Claudia. โSorry I interrupted you.โ
โSomeone had to say it,โ said Claudia. She looked at Rosie, who was already some distance down the street. โI think I coached the wrong person.โ
Gene and Claudia o๏ฌered me a lift home, but I did not want to continue the conversation. I started walking, then accelerated to a jog. It made sense to get home before it rained. It also made sense to exercise hard and put the restaurant behind me as quickly as possible.ย ๎e new shoes were workable, but the coat and tie were uncomfortable even on a cold night. I pulled o๏ฌย the jacket, the item that had made me temporarily acceptable in a world to which I did not belong, and threw it in a trash can.ย ๎e tie followed. On an impulse I retrieved the daphne from the jacket and carried it in my hand for the remainder of the journey.ย ๎ere was rain in the air, and my face was wet as I reached the safety of my apartment.
