I was taking a big chance and I knew it, but sometimes, you just have to take a chance, don't you? Back home in high school, I used to take my dates out on picnics. It may sound corny, but all but one of them loved it. It was different from what everybody else did, hanging out at the local Dairy Queen or watching football practice on the bleachers at school. My prior fiancée, though a native Oklahoman herself, hadn't really liked to do anything outside, so when I wanted to do something special for her, I would make an indoor picnic: I'd lay a flannel blanket on the floor of my apartment living room, get a snack platter, a bottle of wine, and maybe even a dessert, depending.

At any rate, I believed that picnics are my go to in regard to initiating serious alone time, getting to know my dates better. After all, who walked close to a couple sitting alone and having a private picnic on the beach, or a park? Sometimes, if I were lucky, those picnics ended in a bit of romantic necking that, a couple of times, had ended up going a bit further. I remember ducking into a nearby copse of trees one time—anyway, I decided to take a chance. How would someone like Karen feel about a picnic? I wondered if she'd ever been on one. Only one way to find out.

I planned on spoiling her big time. Another dose of my home cooking: fried chicken, homemade potato salad, a bottle of wine, of course, and a fruit salad. What could go wrong with that? I had even stopped down at the local florist and bought her a bouquet of daisies. Not roses, not carnations, but daisies. They reminded me of home, plus they were bright, yellow and white, and cheerful.

Then maybe after the picnic we could go to a movie, something totally unexpected and not typical for her. I can imagine that someone like Karen had been wined and dined in the finest restaurants, been taken to the theater or whatever. I knew I couldn't compete with that, but maybe she would appreciate something a little more toned down, private, and intimate.

I had been pleasantly pleased when I called this morning with the invitation and she agreed, although I did hear the subdued tone of her voice. I wanted to ask her if something was bothering her, but figured that if she wanted to know, she'd tell me. I told her to meet me at the south end of Strawberry Fields near the Imagine mosaic, with easy access from seventy-second street on the west side of the park. From there, we would have a good view of the lake and maybe afterward, we might stroll over to the Wisteria arbor, maybe even visit the zoo on the southeast side along Fifth Avenue instead of a movie.

I arrived at the park at one o'clock, thirty minutes ahead of time, but I wanted to have time to set up. I lounged on the picnic blanket, waiting, a smile lifting the corners of my mouth as I anticipated her surprise. I hope she'd like it and appreciate the trouble I'd gone to. I knew better than to get my hopes up, but things had been going well between us. Of course, I was still a little disturbed about my mom's reaction, and knew instinctively that it was shared by my dad. Maybe in the coming days and weeks, they would get to know Karen a little better. I had no desire to go back to her house and get to know her parents better.

Finally, after watching numerous passersby, I saw Karen approach. She wore a pair of cropped jeans, flats, and a three-quarter sleeve linen blouse. She looked tired, as if she hadn't slept much the night before. She didn't smile, but waved back when I waved. Her eyes did widen a bit in surprise when she saw the spread.

"A picnic?"

"Okay with you?"

"Sure." She shrugged as she sat down, legs to one side, the epitome of decorum.

Her expression was nothing if not reserved. She looked a bit on the pale side, a tinge of dark circles under her eyes that makeup didn't hide. I knew for sure now that something was bothering her, which surprised me in and of itself. I knew her well enough to know when something disturbed her? She seemed... if not withdrawn, somewhat cool. For a moment, my heart sank. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all. Then again, it had to be said. I wasn't going to tiptoe around the subject. It was one way or the other, all or nothing.

"When you said you wanted to meet me here, I had no idea you planned a picnic," she said, glancing at the spread.

"You bet." I grinned. "Fried chicken, potato salad…" Again, I caught an almost pained look in her expression. I decided to play my cards, to lay them out on the table and see whether she called or folded. "Karen, this is my way of trying to show you that I've grown to care for you, that I'd like us to move beyond this… this plan of pretending that we're a couple—" She lifted her hand and looked at me.

"It's been a mistake, Ben. A terrible mistake."

I sat, stunned, not expecting such an abrupt shutdown. What was she talking about? Had the sex just been sex to her? Had I imagined our emotional connection, the softening of her heart? Had I imagined it all? I sat in dumbfounded silence as she continued, rushing forward, as if knowing if she stopped, she wouldn't get it all out.

"I don't feel anything for you, Ben, at least not like I'm sensing you feel toward me. Besides, a relationship between us would never work out." She spoke softly. "You understand that, don't you? We come from totally different places, and I'm not just speaking geographically."

She spoke with firm resolve. This wasn't at all the response I was expecting. How had I completely misread her cues? Once again, it appears I'd screwed things up. "Am I moving too fast for you? Is that it?" Maybe I was pushing too hard. I mentally kicked myself, realizing that after the fiasco with Daniel Stone, and who knows what other kind of arrangements made by her parents, that she would be slow to warm up to an actual, real, romantic relationship.

"Ben, it's not—"

"I'll tell you what," I interrupted. "Just forget what I just said, okay?"

She shook her head. "I can't." She swallowed and looked off toward the lake.

So that was it? Nothing more? No explanation, no feeling, no nothing? I frowned but then realized. She was afraid of her real relationship. Perhaps she was even afraid after the relationship with her former fiancé that her parents had forced her into. She knew how to play her part, that much I knew because the engagement with Daniel had lasted some time, down to the point of arranging their own wedding. She glanced down at her lap, fidgeting with imaginary lint or something on her pants.

My dismay gave way to a soft anger. "Aren't you tired of being told how to live your life?" That caught her attention. She glanced at me, and finally, I saw a flash of emotion.

"What are you talking about?"

"Has hanging out with me really been so bad?"

"No," she said.

"Then what's the problem?"

Again she looked off to the lake. "It's hard to explain."

"I don't think it's hard to explain at all." I said nothing for several moments, and then ventured a guess. "Your parents found out that this was nothing but a farce, didn't they?" To my surprise, I saw a brief sheen of tears in her eyes before she blinked them back. I was right. "So you're going to continue to let them tell you how to live your life? Who to date? Who to marry?"

She glanced at me again, her face red with emotion. "Don't you dare suggest that it's all about money, Ben, because it isn't. My parents--"

"It is about money," I said quietly. "I come from the wrong side of the tracks, don't I? I don't have a bulging bank account. I work for a living. I don't live in a fancy house, I don't have—"

"Damnit, Ben! Don't make this harder than it already is, all right?"

I shook my head, growing increasingly annoyed. I thought she had changed. I thought I had been a good influence on her, that perhaps… "Karen, don't you think it's about time you did something for yourself? Something that makes you happy, and not just your parents? You told me once that you had always wanted to work in a museum. For once, why don't you do something that you want to do? Whether it's going out with me or finding a job, you need to grow up and stand on your own two feet. You need to—"

"Quit telling me what I need to do!" she snapped. "Quit trying to save me or whatever it is the hell you're trying to do."

I glanced down at the picnic, my hopes dashed, but I certainly wasn't going to grovel. At least not in front of her. Not now. Karen had obviously made her choice. I was stunned. So much for trying to bend over backward to please her, to show her that life could be just as enjoyable, just as filled with contentment without money as it could with billions of dollars in a bank account.

I was wrong about her. I had hoped… but that was all over now. "I'm sorry you feel that way," I said, my voice surprisingly calm. "Because I was having fun. I believed I was getting to know the real Karen Queen. And you know what? I liked her. I liked her a lot."

Karen said nothing but slowly stood. "It has to be this way. I don't expect you to understand, but I do expect you to respect my decision."

Tamping down my frustration, I simply shrugged and nodded. "Sure, Karen. No hard feelings. You go your way and I'll go mine." I forced a false grin. "And who knows? Maybe we'll bump into each other one of these days."

She nodded, and blinking rapidly, quickly stood, offered a halfhearted wave of goodbye, then turned her back and walked out of the park. I turned around, the picnic basket beside me forgotten, and looked toward the lake, watching the sun glint off the water. My gaze passed over the fountain atop Cherry Hill and beyond, down toward the mall and Sheep Meadow, crowded with families and couples and joggers enjoying the warmth of the day. And I tried not to be angry, not to be bitter. Was I heartbroken? No, I wasn't, I told myself, but then I realized that I had not quite succeeded in guarding my heart against such a rejection. But the rejection was so sudden and unexpected. I was disappointed. I couldn't lie about that. Disappointed in Karen. Why couldn't she stand up to her parents? Was it just about money? She had never been out on her own, had never been out from under her parent's thumbs. At least I didn't think so. How could someone live like that? Yes, my own parents lived nearby, but they let me live, to make my own mistakes and hopefully learn from them. I had learned over the past couple of years to be extremely wary when it came to relationships, and even more so when it came to getting my hopes up in regard to my relationship with Karen. I thought I had been cautious.

I was a fool - a fool to think that someone like Karen would fall for a guy like me, one who couldn't offer anything that she was used to in life. Except maybe true, genuine, heartfelt affection. Maybe, someday, if things had gone further, she would have understood that love was worth more than a million bucks… who was I kidding? Maybe it wasn't, not to Karen Queen.

I finally stood, folded the blanket, draped it over my arm, and then picked up the picnic basket. Well, at least I had supper for tonight. I kept trying to tell myself that I wasn't angry as I slowly walked out of the park, taking the same path that Karen had. When I reached seventy-second, I walked the short distance, wading against the flow of foot traffic, ignoring the curious glances of passersby as they saw the blanket and picnic basket, before I finally gave up and raised my hand for a taxi.

Shit. What a screwed up mess I had made of things. I never should've agreed to this wacky plan in the first place. I was the one who had expected too much. Who did I think I was anyway, telling myself that I was showing Karen a part of a world that she might want to belong to? A world of more simplicity, genuineness, and intimacy?

The first thing I would do when I got home was get rid of all those stupid clothes that she had insisted I wear to play the part when meeting her parents or her friends. I guess one visit with her parents was all it had taken for them to realize I was nothing but a phony. But you know what? I still have my dignity. I'm glad that I hadn't allowed Karen to talk me into doing anything that would border on the illegal.

By the time I got home to my apartment, closed the door, and placed the picnic basket on the kitchen counter, I admitted that it was useless to keep trying to fool myself. I was more than disappointed. I was sad at how things had panned out. My affection for Karen had not been phony. I might've misread her signals, and maybe I was naïve to think that she felt something for me, but it was more than apparent to me now, standing in my dingy apartment, that she felt I wasn't important enough, worthy enough, or rich enough to suit her.

So to hell with it. To hell with Karen Queen, to hell with my job, to hell with this crappy apartment that cost an arm and a leg. Maybe it was time to start over. Maybe, once again, it was time to seek greener pastures. Frankly, I was sick of New York and its anonymity, it's clear delineation between the haves and the have-nots. If Karen couldn't see the truth standing in front of her face, well, there was nothing I could do about it, could I?