Box

30

Zander Evans is the youngest and prettiest of the three dating site women, and the most determined to have me visit. She promised me “a hell of a good time” if I ever came to town, and punctuated it with a big “Woohoo!” I think women who write “Woohoo!” are more likely to give oral, don’t you? I mean, you can’t even say the word without making a circle with your mouth.

Zander said we’d hit the riverbank, listen to music, drink wine, make out, “and see what develops.” Normally I’d be all over that, but I wanted to visit Faith first, since she lived the furthest away. Then hit Paducah, and finish up in Logan with Renee Williams, whom I consider to be a sure thing.

Fifteen minutes of driving gets me to a place where I have to make a decision. Straight ahead takes me to Starbucks.

Left leads to Paducah.

Do I literally stay on the straight and narrow and hope for a future with Trudy? Or veer left for a river romp with Zander?

I turn left.

Then feel guilty enough to pull over and call her again. But again, there’s no answer. Now I wonder if she’s okay, so I call the hospital and use my best doctor voice to confer with one of the nurses, who tells me Trudy’s fine, she’s just groggy from the pain meds. So I’m thinking I could drive two hours and sit in Trudy’s room all afternoon and she might not even know it, or I can hop over to Paducah to see if Zander Evans still wants to take me to the riverbank.

Faith looked nothing like her photos. But I know for a fact that Zander does, because we Skyped.

She even did a little dance for me.

Thinking about that dance makes me want to speed up. But I fight the urge. It’s only forty miles to Paducah, and I’d rather not have to deal with any more small-town cops, or hear about their sisters.

All three dating-site women are on my speed dial, so I press Zander’s name, and she answers on the first ring.

“Two-one-two area code!” she says. “It’s really you! Hi, Dr. Box!”

“Call me Gideon.”

“Okay, Gideon! What’s up?”

“If you still want to see me, I’m not far from Paducah.”

“No shit? How close are you?”

“Forty minutes.”

“Wow! Okay, I won’t complain about the short notice, but gosh, this is cutting it close! Okay, look, I’m going to hang up and get myself in order. You should’ve called sooner! Hey, Doc? I mean, Gideon?”

“Yes?”

“Do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“When you get to my exit, turn left. After a mile you’ll see a junk yard on the left side of the road. Pull into the entrance and give me a call. I’ll give you directions from there.”

“You want me to park in a junk yard? Is it safe?”

She laughs. “This isn’t New York, Gideon! The junk yard’s run by a sweet little old couple in their eighties. But you don’t have to turn in, just pull in the entrance and call me.”

“Okay.”

“I better hang up now. But Gideon?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t wait to see you!”

I don’t get that reaction very often. As you might imagine.

“Really?” I say.

“Really. I’m going to show you a great time today!”

“I’m looking forward to it!”

“You won’t be sorry. I’m in a great mood!”

“Thanks, Zander.”

“A great mood, Gideon! See you soon!”

“You got it,” I say, quite pleased to have finally made a good decision when it comes to a female.

I know what you’re thinking.

Something bad’s going to happen at the junk yard.

How did you get to be so jaded?

“I’m not cleanin’ this mess up by myself,” she says.