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Palete Cleanser

By KA Dewey

 



Sadie exited the coffee shop and made her way across the parking lot, two cardboard cups of coffee gripped in her hands. She eyed her destination with trepidation; a lone man slouched against his jacked up black truck. His head was down, focused on his cell phone. At least he matched his pic: same build, same short dark hair, and same snake tattoo winding up his left forearm.

                 

“Are you Tom?” Sadie fought the urge to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She always played with her hair when she was nervous, and first dates always made her nervous.  

                 

The man hastily shoved his phone in his pocket and stood up. “Yep, that’s me. You must be Sadie.”

                 

Sadie handed him one of the cups. “Ice breaker coffee?”

 

“Bless the beans!” He accepted her offering, took a sip, and promptly spat it out on the ground. 

                 

“What the fuck is this?” He held the coffee cup up and glared at it suspiciously, like it had just bit him.  

                 

Sadie hid her alarm at his childish overreaction. She had been looking forward to this date, Janet said it would be life-changing. “Sorry, wrong one.” She handed him the other container and took his. “I take almond milk in mine.”

                 

“Almond milk? Seriously? How do you milk an almond?” He laughed, a high-pitched giggle that set Sadie’s teeth on edge. “No nipples on almonds!” 

                 

“I’m lactose intolerant,” she said. 

                 

Tom paused, a confused look crossed his face. “But Janet said you were easy-going.”

                 

“What do you mean?” Now Sadie was confused.

                 

“I don’t like intolerant types,” he said. 

                 

Sadie laughed, but Tom remained serious. Did he not know what lactose intolerant meant? Maybe it was best to just change the subject. “Janet said you had something planned?”

                 

Tom’s demeanor shifted instantly. A cheesy grin exposed a missing tooth and his eyes shone with delight. He clasped his hands together and swung his arms in an exaggerated long arc. “Golfing, baby!”

                 

Sadie froze. “Golfing?” 

                 

He paused mid-swing and gave her a quizzical look. “Janet said you liked golfing.”

                 

“She did, did she?” Janet knew Sadie’s history with golfing dates. That last one had been particularly disastrous and had required a three-hour coffee debrief. What was she up to? 

 

Tom continued to swing his imaginary golf club while providing his own colour commentary. “Tom Trainor does it again with a beauty drive off the 18th green,” he said in the serious tone of a professional golf analyst. 

 

Sadie backed away slowly. She needed to talk to Janet immediately. Tom was not her type at all. How was he supposed to be life-changing? She pretended to get a call on her cell. “Tom, I have to take this, it’s work.”

                 

Tom kept swinging his imaginary golf club. “No probs. I gotta drain the snake before we head out.”

                 

Sadie shuddered at the image, hoping he wasn’t going to urinate in the parking lot. He seemed like the type. What was Janet thinking? 

 

She walked back across the parking lot, phone to her ear on the invented call, and sat at one of the coffee shop’s outdoor tables. Across the parking lot, Tom had exchanged his pretend driver for a pretend putter and was working on his short game. 

 

Sadie shook her head and called her friend. 

                 

A bright cheerful voice answered on the first ring. “Janet’s Joyful Jaunts Matchmaking, at your service.”

                 

Sadie ignored the witty remark and jumped straight into her grievance. “Dammit, Janet! You set me up with a total Chad.” 

                 

 Janet laughed, a light-hearted trill that sounded like a bird call. “You met Tom,” she said. 

                 

“Yes, I met Tom. He wants to take me golfing.” 

 

More laughter. “Perfect!”

 

“You know how I feel about golfing dates.”

                 

“Yeah, that was Craig, wasn’t it?” 

                 

“He dumped me on the 9th hole.” Sadie sighed, annoyed at the memory.

 

“Men don’t like losing at their favourite game,” Janet said. “I wish I could have seen his face when he realized you’re a former pro.”

                 

“No, you don’t. He was pissed off.”

                 

“You tried to tell him.” 

                 

“And look what good it did me,” Sadie said. “Why would you set me up with another golfer? How’s that supposed to work?” 

                 

“Oh, it’s not supposed to.” Janet’s tone was nonchalant. 

                 

“But you said Tom was nice?”

                 

“No, I said that about all the other guys I’ve set you up with.”     

                 

“What about the life-changing bit?”

                 

“Oh that,” Janet said. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

                 

Sadie glanced over at Tom. He had abandoned his fantasy golf game and was now admiring his reflection in the truck window while popping his pecs.

                 

“My skepticism says otherwise,” Sadie said.

                 

“Don’t be negative.”

                 

Sadie let out an exasperated sigh. “Nice guys, Janet. I want to meet nice guys. Why is it so hard?” 

                 

“Yeah, you say that.”

                 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sadie couldn’t hide her irritation.

                 

 There was a brief silence before Janet responded. “Sadie, I love you, but you reject every guy I set you up with.”

                 

“I do not!” 

                 

“Oh really? What was wrong with Keith?”

                 

“Too old,” Sadie replied promptly. 

                 

“Adam?”

                 

“Too young.”

                 

“Mark?”

                 

“Drove a Jetta. I couldn’t take him seriously.”

                 

“And Ben?”

                 

“Too nice.”

                 

“He’s a police officer!”

                 

“Exactly my point. Too nice.”

                 

It was Janet’s turn to sound exasperated. “And that’s why you got Tom.”

                 

“You set me up with an asshat on purpose?” 

                 

“Sadie, you’ve lost the ability to recognize nice guys,” Janet said, her voice firm. “You need a reset. A palate cleanser.”

                 

“A palate cleanser?” The word brought up images of elaborate gourmet meals and wine tastings, nothing about men, though.

                 

“Yes! Tom is everything you don’t want in a man!”

                 

Sadie had to admit there was a lot of truth in that statement. “How’s that going to help?”

                 

“Perspective, Sadie. It’ll force you to appreciate nice guys.”

                 

Sadie was silent. 

                 

Janet’s voice returned to its earlier jocular tone. “It’s a win-win for me. Either you get over your aversion to decent men, or you never ask me to set you up again.”

                 

Before Sadie could think of an appropriate retort, movement across the parking lot caught her eye. Tom had walked behind his truck and was casually looking around, then appeared to unzip his pants. Fascinated and horrified, she couldn’t look away as Tom’s urine hit the pavement and trickled into the parking lot from underneath the truck. 

 

Just then, a cop car drove by, stopped abruptly, then turned around and pulled into the parking lot. It came to a halt in front of Tom’s truck.

                 

“Oh shit,” Sadie said. “Gotta go, I’ll call you later.” She hung up before Janet could protest. 

 

The cop exited his vehicle and approached the truck. Tom panicked, tried to zip up, but he was mid-stream and sprayed urine all over his pants. 

 

Sadie recognized the cop’s walk and almost laughed out loud when she realized it was Ben, her date from last week. What had she told Janet about him? Oh yeah, too nice. Well, he didn’t look too nice right now. 

 

Ben said something that Sadie couldn’t hear and gestured angrily at the urine trail, then at Tom’s partially zipped pants. Tom pleaded his case, but Ben seemed to ignore him. He returned to his car, Tom trailing behind, looking sheepish and trying to walk and zip up. Ben grabbed his ticket book, wrote a citation and gave it to Tom, placing it firmly in his open palm, and ended the exchange with another stern lecture. Ben was about to get back in his vehicle when he noticed Sadie. After a few seconds, his face lit up, and he smiled and waved.

 

“Hey, Sadie! Nice to see you,” he said and started walking over. 

 

Damn, Sadie thought, and took a moment to appreciate how good he made that uniform look. His broad chest and shoulders filled out his button-down short-sleeve shirt in a very pleasing way and his lower half was equally easy on the eyes. It was obvious he didn’t skip leg day.

                 

“Hey Ben, nice to see you too.” Sadie was startled to realize she meant it. Maybe Janet was right, she had needed a Tom to appreciate a Ben. Over at the truck, Tom was using paper towels in a vain attempt at blotting the urine stains out of his chinos, but nothing was going to save them.

                 

“You know that guy?” Ben asked and stuck his thumb over his shoulder at Tom.

                 

“Not really. He’s just a palete cleanser.” 

                 

“A what now?” said Ben.

                 

“Never mind, it’s not important.” She looked up at Ben, noticed how his smile reached his eyes. He was truly happy to see her.

                 

“Hey, you want to have dinner sometime?”

 

Ben grinned. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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