The Dating Game

Henry’s crush on Martha had been building for weeks, but he just couldn’t quite work up the courage to talk to her. He’d see her in the hallways and cafeteria almost every weekday, but instead of starting a conversation with her, the best he could do was give her a smile and half-hearted wave.

Henry’s best friend, Roderick, was getting tired of his buddy’s hesitation – especially since Martha was all Henry ever seemed to talk about these days.

“Go on, Henry … you can’t wait forever. Just go over there and strike up a conversation with her,” Roderick said while the two picked at their lunch. “She’s all by herself right now … ain’t like you’d be interrupting anything or anybody. I bet she’d love the company. I bet she’d love your company.”

Henry disagreed.

“I wouldn’t know what to say. Any time I get near her I get nervous. My hands get sweaty and my stomach gets all jumpy. I just freeze. And if I go over there and make a fool of myself, then I could never come back to the cafeteria ever again. I’d just have to starve, because if she saw me, she’d say to herself, ‘There’s that sweaty, jumpy idiot Henry.’ I need to wait until the time is just right. Of course, the time will probably never be right, so why don’t we just forget it and eat our lunch.”

Roderick huffed.

“We’re not gonna forget it, Henry. Right now is the right time … the time will never be righter than this. And I don’t know what you’re so worried about. I’ve seen the way she looks back at you when you smile at her. And when you wave at her, she waves back, don’t she? She ain’t flipped you the bird once. Ain’t thrown a single roll at you. Plus, there’s a million things to talk about … start with the weather and then go from there. Make fun of the food. Tell her how much you like her paintings in art class. Tell her she has pretty green eyes.”

“I’m not gonna talk to her about the dang weather,” Henry said. “What’s there to say? ‘Hey, Martha, it sure has been hot lately, ain’t it? Well … bye.’ And when we’re in art class I’m looking at her, not her paintings. And her eyes are blue, not green. They are blue, aren’t they? Shoot … now I’m not sure. Anyway, I get all tongue-tied just thinking about her. It’s easy for you … you’re a smooth talker. I’m not. I get too nervous.”

Roderick smiled.

“That’s funny. Roxy used to tell me that all the time, only she said I was a slick talker, not a smooth talker. Same thing, I reckon. And I ain’t gonna deny it, either. But that was the great thing about me and her … we’d start talking about anything and it’d go on for hours. And I bet that’s what’ll happen with you and Martha. Before you know it, you won’t have time to have lunch with me anymore because you’ll be all cozied-up to your new girlfriend.”

Henry shifted in his wheelchair.

“I like having lunch with you, Roderick,” Henry said. “You were the first person who was nice to me when I got moved to assisted living, and we’ve been friends ever since. Besides, I need you to push me.”

Roderick laughed.

“OK, then, you old fart. I’m about to push you over there where Martha is, and you best start talking. Like I keep saying … you can’t wait forever.”