Waltz of Her Life - Page 85/229

"Here's the room," Seth said, gesturing back to the bed with a bland beige spread and geometric shapes, a soft cushion against the wall serving as a head board, and plain rust carpet.

"Now, where's a good place to get something to eat?" He shut the door behind them, which instantly made her feel much better.

Linda found a nice, chain seafood restaurant not far from there and Seth lustily started off on the bread and rolls at the table's centerpiece. They kept their conversation on safe, comfortable topics, such as what courses she was taking and how much she had left before she could take the nursing boards in the spring of 1980. While they waited for their main courses to arrive, Seth rambled on about how swamped he was with repair business. "All these doctors and lawyers bringing their cycles in, wanting them tuned up perfectly so they can play motorcycle gang member for a week." Seth pronounced the word "cycle" so that it sounded like "sicle," the back end of the word "Popsicle."

"But you like it, though, don't you?" Linda said.

"I love it," he said. "But sometimes the guys and their wives act like assholes, wanting everything done yesterday. Like the world stops for them. What I really want to do is design motorcycles, and engines."

"Couldn't you just set up a shop and do that? You could get a loan. A friend of my father's did that and now he has a really successful printing shop."

As their salads arrived, Seth shook his head, rolling his eyes around. "Do you have a million dollars hanging around somewhere? That takes money."

"Well aren't there companies around that could hire you? Companies that make motorcycles?"

"They all want some college puke with a bunch of degrees."

Linda gestured around herself, indicating the world outside the restaurant. "Well then, go to college."

"Tried it. Ohio U. To me it was just a bunch of uptight dreamers trying to tell me what to read. It cost too much anyhow."

Linda tried to find a way to get the conversation going in a more pleasurable way. She didn't like to hear men complain about what put clothes on their backs and bread on their tables. Her father had done too much of that while she was growing up. "What did you want to do tomorrow?"

"I thought we could take in a movie, have another nice dinner like this, go dancing somewhere maybe and then…who knows?"