Not in the Cards

“Do you remember that movie with Dustin Hoffman and Tom Cruise? Rainman?” I asked. The café was warm and cozy. There were twelve other customers. And eighteen empty chairs. You could say it was a blind date. She was sitting across from me. She was very pretty and I wasn’t sure I had a chance. I’ve not been on many dates. Six. I’ve not kissed many girls. Two.
“No. What was it about?” She asked. “I love Tom Cruise.” She was staring at her fingernails. With admiration or maybe concern. They were painted black. All ten.
“Two brothers in Las Vegas and cheating at cards. They were making lots of money. There was a girl with them.”
She interrupted me. “I’ve been to Vegas lots. Party town.” She put her hand behind her head and fluffed up her hair. The rim of her coffee cup was bright red in the places where she had sipped from. Five spots. I took a breath and counted the customers in line. Eight.
I continued. “One of them was in a bind and needed his brother to save him. The brother, Dustin Hoffman, was severely autistic but really good with numbers.” She interrupted me again.
“My teacher in high school said that I was very artistic. I should have been an artist,” she said. I watched her face for a sign. She didn’t smile. She didn’t even blink. Then she looked down at her fingernails again. I felt like I was failing a test. “Are you artistic too?” She asked.
“No,” I said. “But there’s a table waiting for me in Las Vegas.” I stood up. It took me eighteen steps to reach the front door and I knew it would be one hundred and twelve more until I was on the road.