strangely. “All we can do is put two people together.
Sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn’t. Love isn’t a science.”
“I
understand that,” he conceded, “but we weren’t the least bit compatible.”
“Like
I said, love isn’t a science. We have the best technology in the world at our
disposal, but who can explain love and compatibility? It’s beyond human
understanding. All we can do is try our best.”
“Do
you have much free time?” Peter asked awkwardly, his voice cracking.
“No,
not much at all,” she answered, sounding surprised by the question.
“What
do you do if you have free time?” he queried.
Latesha
laughed nervously.
“I’d
like to try another date,” Peter suddenly said. “Is that possible?”
Latesha
was not anticipating a second date after hearing about the first.
“I’ll
pay another hundred dollars, but hopefully this time I’ll find someone a little
less outgoing.”
“All
right,” Latesha said. “I thought that might have been a problem after reading
Heidi’s profile, but I can assure you the next person will not be so
aggressive.”
“I’ll
put the check in the mail tonight.”
“I’ll
call you.”
Minutes
later she did phone him. “I’ve arranged a date for you with a woman named Jo
Jo. This one will be better,” she assured him, glancing at Oprah who sat
yawning on the floor. “Our top expert is quite confident.”
Couldn’t
be any worse, Peter thought.
*
* * *
The
next day, Peter met Jo Jo at a downtown coffee house. She was a frail girl with
swollen, red eyes. Instead of punching him on the arm as Heidi might have done,
she held out her soft, fragile hand and allowed him to lightly clasp her
fingers. Her hand was almost weightless and was so thin she reminded him of a
ghost. When he sat down opposite her, she looked at him with great expectation,
as if he carried the secret to her future happiness. He didn’t know what to
say. There was no magnetism, no attraction, nothing at all on his part.
“Would
you like to do anything in particular?” he offered, more out of compassion than
interest.
“Can
you take me to a movie?” she asked.
“Certainly.”
The
movie she chose was a quintessential chick flick, a romantic comedy where the
two leads stumble across each other and end up living happily ever after. Jo Jo
alternately sobbed and wailed through the whole thing.
If
this woman cries any more, Peter thought, feeling trapped,she’s going to be flirting with dehydration. She shed so many
tears and used so many tissues that by Peter’s calculations she could have
saved half a dozen trees by skipping the film.
“I’m
all right,” she assured him after the lights came on. “It’s just that I haven’t
felt right since my boyfriend left me.”
“Oh,
I’m sorry,” Peter consoled. “Didn’t work out?”
She
wrapped her arm around his biceps as they walked toward his truck. “He said I
was too moody. He was right, of course. I’ve always cried a lot. Sometimes I’ll
cry the whole weekend and hardly be able to stop. I can’t remember the last
time I was happy. When people are around, I just want to curl up in a ball and
hide. You know what I mean? After my boyfriend died in that horrible accident,
I didn’t even go to the funeral. I was still mad at him.”
“Ooo-kay,”
Peter muttered warily. “How did he die?”
Jo
Jo looked at him with vacant eyes. “His house burned down. Terrible thing. He
never made it out. They found a can of gasoline.” She took a deep breath. “Mind
you, if he hadn’t cheated on me with that tramp, I would have felt a lot worse.
But you know how it is. I was glad in an awful kind of way.”
“A
can of gasoline?” Peter stammered as he passed the poster for an upcoming
horror flick that showed a crazed woman holding a dripping knife.
Jo
Jo ignored him. “Don’t you just love late summer?” she asked laughingly, as if
he had told an incredibly funny joke. She started