BeYourArt.com Writing Contest
2nd Place Winner
Just Keep Smiling
By Anna Katsavos
It smells of a scavenger hunt, each of us waiting for the cue, each of
When he sees I’m all ears again, my smile still strung like a hammock,
us ready to pounce. We take our positions, sit up straight, and smile, all
he hands me his card.
of us flashing our biggest, toothy grins. Forty-five dollars poorer, we’re
“Oh” I say politely, lips now frozen in a perpetual curve. “A licensed
gathered in a swanky city club, sitting at our designated tables, each of
master plumber. That’s nice,” I say, wondering, How the hell did I get
us perched on her seat, emitting vibes that beg, “Pick me, pick me.” This
talked into this fiasco?
eight-minute speed-dating, a
Think what you will of me,
bizarre, rate-a-mate version
but I am not interested in
of musical chairs, is already
a plumber. I already have
more than I can handle. It’s
a plumber. Marty and I
worse than I had imagined,
have a great relationship.
worse than that school-yard
He shows up when he says
feeling of waiting to be cho-
he will, listens carefully to
sen.
what needs fixing, does what
Ding! Ding! Every eight
he needs to do, cleans up his
minutes, Ding! Ding! I mean
mess, and leaves. That’s it,
come on--eight minutes? It
nice and simple.
takes me longer than that to
But tonight, it’s anything but.
pick out bottled water.
I shift in my seat, sneaking a
Ding! Ding!
peek at my watch, hoping it
My first moving target ap-
won’t be much longer before
proaches. On a scale of 1 to
the next Ding! Ding! My
10, I give him a preliminary
face is weary from forced
8, though he’d do well to
pleasantry, and I’m slightly
ditch the neon tie.
pissed that he hasn’t even
Not bad looking, I’m think-
noticed my dimples. I take
ing, as my hopeful heart starts to flutter. I take a breath and squirm a bit
another deep breath and force myself to refocus.
in my seat as he settles comfortably in the chair across from me.
“Sorry--you were saying?” I press myself to ask the mug which now
“OK, I can do this,” I try to convince myself, though his bitten fingernails
appears less and less appealing, and I’m certain the stray ear hairs have
don’t bode well.
gotten longer.
“Hi. I’m Anna,” I say, my grin wide as a fruit wedge, my voice already
“Oh, me? Um, I teach,” I stammer, omitting the particulars of college
cracking. “Pleased to meet you,” I chirp, but he’s already off and run-
prof with Ph. D. in English, which he wouldn’t have heard anyway cause
ning. I just nod.
he was already off at the races.
“Oh, that’s nice,” I lie.
“NASCAR?” I repeat, my frozen smile melting.
“Really? How interesting,” I lie again.
“Well, no, can’t say that I have,” I confess, almost apologetically, “but
He’s busy yapping away, and pretty soon I’m starting to feel like a bobble-
I have been to Saratoga,” I offer as compensation. He stares at me as if
head, nodding and nodding.
I’m speaking Greek. I try to spell it out for him. “You know, the horse
Keep smiling, I remind myself as I notice a couple of stray hairs sticking
races?”
out of his ear.
Nothing.
It’s been at least two minutes, and he still hasn’t come up for air, but my
“Saratoga Springs?”
smile stays pasted because the good girl voice in me says I’m supposed
Still nothing.
to be polite. About half-way through his well-rehearsed litany, he finally
“Upstate, New York?” I tag on, tempted to add “where I’d rather be right
reaches for his drink, and I manage to squeeze in a quick question.
now,” but I don’t. Yes, I’m thinking, Saratoga, Canada, Siberia—any-
“A licensed M. P.?” I ask, part of me hoping his incessant chatter is just a
where but here.
sign of nerves. Waiting for clarification, I rapidly run through a Rolodex
His next question nearly floors me, but I muster a half-hearted grin be-
of possibilities: Member of Parliament? Probably not. Management Plan-
cause I hear my inner Miss Manner’s damned voice again scolding me
ner? Hmm, maybe? Military Police? Oh, God, I hope not.
to “Be nice.”
2
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