My ass is dragging a bit on this Thursday morning (even if no one can see it) after all the extra work at last night’s fundraiser. It was a really long day. But, since we helped raise a lot of money for a great cause, it’s what Madison calls “a good kind of tired.” In other words, you’re fried but the fact that you did a good deed makes the exhaustion go away. When I got home Gypsy seemed to sense I’d been helping homeless cats who needed to be adopted. No sneak attack and she was extra affectionate.

Of course I had a bit of trouble sleeping wondering about the mysterious man now known as Speechless Guy. (And, naughty mind that I have, I considered what happens to pants when you take off the suspenders.) It was such an unusual “conversation” if you even want to call it that. No spoken words, just eye contact. Really takes my eyes being up here to another level. I guess it’s sort of like the librarian scenario, except I’m wondering what he sounds like when the voice comes back and if we could have a nice conversation. Anyway, I’m hoping the mystery man will drop by the deli at some point. I know, I seem to be off to a good start with Josh, but Tish was right in that you can’t judge a relationship after one date. Everyone is on his or her best behavior.

Including me.

And as I’m loading the coffee pot thinking about nothing but Speechless Guy, who should walk in the door.

Nope, not The Man With The Suspenders.

Josh.

He smiles as he heads for the counter. “There’s my favorite deli owner.”

“Hey, welcome back. I guess you’re done in Boston.”

“Yep, gonna be across the street for the next two days.” He holds up some papers. “I brought something for you.”

“Hmmm... I’m guessing not the architectural plans of the Old North Church.”

“Some sketches I did for your bathroom.”

“Already? Great. Can’t wait to see ‘em.” I cock my head at the tables in the corner. “Have a seat. You want coffee and something loaded with sugar? And I mean a pastry, not me.”

“Cute. But just coffee right now. What flavors do you have today?”

“You forgot, we have plain old coffee here, so the same stuff you had last week. None of that five bucks a cup latte soy milk frappuccino frou-frou stuff. We sell a cuppa Joe for a buck. And we actually put the Starbucks down the street out of business, which delighted me to no end.”

He laughs a bit as he heads to the table. “Well, yours is really good coffee. Lotta cream and sugar, please.”

“Coming right up. Light and sweet, just the way you like your women.”

“You have a staff writer at this deli in the back room doing your material?”

“Nah, it’s just me. Part of my charm.”

“You should have open mike night here sometime. You’re funny as hell.”

“Not a bad idea. Comedy and cannolis. It could catch on.” I pour two cups and head over to the table where he is spreading out some plans. “Wow, that looks like you did a lot of work.”

“It’s just one room without a ton of options, it didn’t take long. I came up with two possibles that work with the current plumbing.” He points at the plans as I sit next to him and set the coffee on the table. “You’ve got just enough space for a whirlpool tub and if we put a shower with glass walls right next to it, the bathroom will look a lot bigger. I assume you want a new vanity, and that goes opposite the tub. Since we have a few square feet in the corner we’ll have some built-in cabinets without doors to keep your towels, soaps, shampoo. This second option is basically the same except the tub is near the window.” He looks at me. “What do you think?”

I slowly nod as I look at the plans. “I’d never guess you could get all this stuff in there. I like it. And the tub near the window sounds nice. It would be cool when the moon is shining.”

“Of course, you’d be susceptible to peeping toms.”

“Might generate some new business for the deli.”

He laughs again. “Okay, we’ll go with this one. Of course, how much you spend depends on the cost of the tub, vanity, tile, and anything else.”

“At this point I don’t care. I want a bathroom with some space. Can your guy Mike do this? My cousin Angelo is a contractor but he’s tied up on a major project for a few months.”

He nods. “Sure. It’s a small job so he can probably work it into his schedule between the stuff we’re doing across the street. Might be a few weeks before he can start, though.”

“What the hell, I’ve lived with this for thirteen years. A few more weeks won’t kill me.”

He hands me a card. “Here’s the plumbing supply place I use. Tell them I’m your architect and you’ll get a ten percent discount. Also, they have a bunch of tubs in their showroom. I strongly suggest you actually climb into each one and find the one that’s most comfortable.”

“Makes sense. And I appreciate the discount.”

“Oh, and you definitely will want to stay somewhere else while this is being done. When you rip out old tile and fixtures there’s an incredible amount of dust. You have a friend who can put you and your cat up for a few days?”

“Sure, I can stay with Madison. Not a problem. And Gypsy likes visiting.”

“Great.”

“By the way, how’s the project coming across the street?”

“Very well. I’m going to be using a similar design with the tub and shower and hopefully it will be approved. Still have no idea who’s going to be living there. I’m working through a decorator who is basically giving me guidelines.” He takes a sip of coffee. “So, now that we’re done with the architectural discussion, I was wondering if you’re free one night this weekend.”

“It’s my week to work Saturday, and I’m generally wiped out that night after a six day week, plus we had a fundraiser last night which wore me out. So how about doing something on Sunday?”

“Sure.”

“You like baseball?

“I love baseball.”

“And if you say you’re a Yankee fan, you’re outta here.”

“Nope.”

“It’s the last Mets home game of the season this Sunday. And it’s a night game. Wanna go? I think they’re giving away bobbleheads.”

“Sounds good.”

“Great. A lot of times you can sell those things on the subway on the way home. Oh, and by the way, we’re sitting outside with the real fans. None of this sky box stuff with people who aren’t even watching the game.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

***

THANKFULLY IT’S A BIT chilly on this Sunday night as we ride the number seven train out to Citi Field, home of the (often hopeless) New York Mets. I’ve always rooted for them because I like a good underdog, and since they haven’t won a World Series since 1986, you can’t find a better one in New York. Well, except maybe the Jets, who haven’t won anything since 1969.

Great old joke:

How do you keep the New York Jets out of your back yard?

Put up a goal post.

Josh wanted to drive but I told him it’s a pain in the ass with the traffic, parking costs a fortune and it would be nice to take the Staten Island Ferry home after the game. Full moon included.

I can tell it’s gonna be a thin crowd as the subway car arrives since the Mets are simply playing out the string at the end of a lousy season. It’s also Fan Appreciation Night, and, as is often the case with this team, they are handing out bobblehead dolls of a player they traded a month ago. Guess I’m not the only one cleaning out the closet these days. Still, we might get ten bucks apiece for them on the subway ride home, which is better than having something that will only end up in a garage sale.

We head toward our seats which are situated right behind third base, given to me by a friend with season tickets who wasn’t going. I extend my hand toward our aisle. “Here we are.”

“Wow. Great seats, A.J. Please thank your friend.”

“Yeah, I get these all the time when the team isn’t playing well. And it’s kinda nice since it’s not crowded.”

A hot dog vendor heads in our direction. Josh reaches in his pocket and pulls out some cash. “You want one?”

I shake my head. “I brought dinner. The food’s lousy here. Typical overpriced ballpark junk.”

He furrows his brow. “You brought dinner?”

“Hang on a minute.” I wait till the vendor leaves our section, make sure no one’s looking, then open my sizable purse and pull out two sandwiches from the deli. I unzip my jacket to get the two plastic bottles of soda I stashed inside, along with a couple bags of peanuts. “Yeah. This is my sneak-a-snack outfit.”

“They let you bring stuff here?”

“No, but I don’t care. What’re they gonna do, throw me in baseball jail?” I hold out the sandwiches. “You want roast beef or turkey?”

He laughs a bit. “Whichever one you don’t want.”

“Aren’t you polite.” I hand him a sandwich and start unwrapping mine.

“You got dessert in your jacket too?”

“Nah. The cannolis are too messy. But if you’re hungry we can always raid the deli when we get home. That’s the best part of living upstairs.”

***

IT’S ACTUALLY BEEN a really exciting game. The Mets are ahead by one with two outs in the top of the ninth, hoping to end the season on a positive note, and the small crowd has really gotten into it. The conversation with Josh has been free and easy, though he appears to be one of those sky box types who doesn’t pay much attention to the game. But since he’s been focusing on me, that’s fine.

The Mets pitcher fires the third strike past the hitter and a cheer goes up as they put the win in the books to end the season. I stand up to leave with the rest of the crowd but Josh is still seated. “C’mon, let’s go.”

He looks up at me. “Don’t you want to stay till the end?”

“Game’s over. You lose track of the innings?”

“He looks at the scoreboard. Oh, right. Sorry, I was distracted by the incredible woman sitting next to me.”  He stands up and extends his hand.

“A line like that makes me think you’re the one with the staff writer.”

***

THE RIDE HOME ON THE ferry under the moonlight was wonderful in the crisp fall air. He had his arm around my shoulders most of the way. And, when he dropped me off, same deal. He didn’t ask to come up, I didn’t offer. One incredible kiss.

That aint gonna be the case next time. I don’t care if my friends do have veto power. (Which they really don’t.)

I head into my apartment and find Gypsy waiting for me in her usual spot atop the kitchen counter surveying all the stuff she’s knocked to the floor. (I long ago removed all the breakables and put harmless stuff she can knock off, which she has dutifully taken care of. Why all cats do this is beyond me. I guess it makes them feel superior.) “Hey, sunshine. Too chilly for you on the porch?” She gives me a lick as I scratch her under the chin.

And then something hits me about what happened at the ballpark.

I don’t think Josh really likes baseball.

Is he one of those guys who simply agrees with a woman about everything on the first few dates?

Inquiring minds wanna know.