Pizza Question Mark

It was another early start. Bleary eyed and yawning we sat on the bus in our normal seat at the front. It was still cold at this time of the morning in New Zealand. The temperature made us feel at home. Two single Irish girls on the other side of the world! The other passengers on the bus were curious.
“How did it go last night?” the girls from America asked as they passed our seats.
“Well,” Said Fiona, settling down for a gossip with an exaggerated brogue and putting her finger to her mouth to mimic the old ladies at home when they are chewing over the latest scandal “he’s only gone and asked her out fer dinner tonight!” The Americans gasped. Free food for a backpacker was indeed a score. They looked at me enviously. I was too busy laughing at Fiona to comment until she started again.
“And didn’t she go back to his room with him last night! The Huzzy!” She looked at me with glee as I jumped to my own defence still chuckling.
“It wasn’t like that” Raised eyebrows all round, “He has this thing…”
“We don’t really wanna hear about his thing.” Guffaws all round.
“No!” I tutted, still trying to proclaim my innocence, “It’s his ears. He can’t hear very well when there is background music so he said he was having difficulty hearing me in the bar and just wanted to go for a chat in his room.”
“Oh aye!” Burst in Fiona bubbling with mirth. I play slapped her on the arm.
“It’s a real condition. My mum has it. Really. Nothing happened!” I proclaimed to the entire bus who had now joined in the ribbing. I didn’t mind the teasing. I wasn’t that keen on the guy and was happy to get as much humour value out of him as Fiona wanted to extract. It wasn’t a relationship that was going to go too far. We were spending five weeks travelling around New Zealand. A couple of nights ago, we had bumped into this guy who asked me out. He seemed nice enough and didn’t display any obvious characteristics of an axe murderer, so I had agreed. When I had said nothing happened I was telling the truth. As soon as he tried to slip his hand up my top, I drew the line and he didn’t venture past it again. Having said that his ardour did diminish somewhat. He had suddenly gotten tired and offered to call me a cab. I was happy to go, though he did ask to meet me for dinner the next night and I had replied something along the lines of “why not?” So it was settled. He was going to text me when he got into town the next day to sort out a plan.
“What sort of work does he do?” The bus driver asked as he pulled levers and flicked switches, closing doors and revving engines preparing to pull off. Fiona and I looked at one another and burst into peals of laughter again.
“Well he told me he was a business consultant,” I shouted over the growl of the bus engine, “ and that he specialised in stock and security.”
“Turned out he was a security alarms door to door sales man!” Fiona was crippled with mirth by now. She had spent that first evening chatting to his mate and when we compared stories later we had been incredulous at how he had spin doctored his job description. Well God loves a trier!

Later that day as we were all sitting in the pub having lunch, my phone beeped. Since I was with practically everyone I knew in New Zealand, it was quite thrilling. It could be someone from home or my Dinner Date. It was Him. The American girls were in a frenzy of excitement. A free dinner was a big deal for them and there was, by now, huge speculation as to where he would take me.
-do u like pizza?- my phone displayed. I was gutted. I didn’t really like pizza and it wasn’t really my idea of a very romantic meal. Fiona, knowing this, relayed this very important snippet of information to the rest of the gang, who supported me with loud guffaws. Not to be out done I pointed out that I had noticed a very nice Italian in town and I punched one word into my phone as reply.
-pizza?-
“What did you say?” the Americans wanted to know. Like Fiona and me, they had been travelling together so long they practically spoke in unison.
“Just one word,” I arched an eyebrow, trying look sarky, “pizza question mark.” They liked it. They were still discussing it with great merriment when the phone beeped again.
-already booked it pick u up at 7- This proved my theory about the little Italian I had spotted and shared this with everyone, who agreed.

By six fifty five I was as ready as I was going to be. Fiona was having an early night and was already in bed reading. It was a dry evening but still had a nip in the air. It was, after all, autumn.
“He hasn’t called since lunch. Maybe he’s not going to turn up!” My confidence was wavering.
“You should take a walk out to the front of the hostel in case he’s already there.” Fiona suggested. She had a point. Our room was at the back of the hostel and it was quite a rambling building.

There were picnic tables at the front of the hostel and as I walked out the front door I spotted a familiar figure sitting at one of the tables. It was my date. In front of him there were two boxes, one of which was open. He was handing a slice of pizza to some random girl who happened to be passing. How romantic!
“Hi!” he said spotting me before I could run away. “All this for five bucks!” I think he was proud of his bargain. I was appalled. The guy was supposed to take me out for dinner and here we were freezing outside a hostel with of all things - pizza question mark! And he was giving our ‘romantic’ dinner away slice by slice to casual passers by. Who books five-dollar pizza anyway? I was trying to achieve more than just a tight smile when he said, apparently boasting again, “Why don’t you go get Fiona? There’s heaps here.” Of course there was ‘heaps’ there. I now hated pizza. Especially cold pizza, eaten outside. I used the excuse of going to get Fiona to escape.

Bursting into our room and both startling and amusing Fiona I told her what had happened. She didn’t want any pizza and was sitting in her pyjamas. I envied her. I didn’t want to go back out to him but I couldn’t be cruel and just not reappear so back to the pizza man I went. He suggested we go play ten pin bowling. How bad could that be? I capitulated. I wouldn’t have to talk to him and then when the game - the very swift game - was over, I could call it a night. He parked the car but hesitated before we got out.
“Perhaps we could just go to my room. I don’t really want to go bowling and the music’s so loud in there I won’t be able hear you.” Oh God, not that old chestnut again but instead I said, “We could just talk here in the car.” He signed moodily.
“I was hoping you would stay with me tonight.” His tone had changed to what I believed he thought sexy but which I only found cringe worthy!
“No. I’m staying at my own place.” I explained in a way you would to some one who was incredibly slow.
“But I bought you dinner!” He wined like a petulant teenager.
“Just take me home now. This is not up for negotiation!” I was furious. Five bucks pizza and he wanted me to sleep with him. I was not for sale! And certainly not for pizza question mark! No wonder the population in New Zealand was so low if this was the way the men folk treated the fairer sex!

He didn’t speak to me the whole way home and didn’t say good-bye when I got out of the car. As for me, I was just thankful to be home, even thought it was only nine thirty and Fiona still wasn’t asleep yet but was nearly finished the book. We laughed over the evening’s events and I swore that I wasn’t going on any more dates in New Zealand.

Next morning was another early start and we sat in our usual seat yawning and trying to wake up.
“So what did ya have for dinner last night?” enquired the Americans as they climbed up the steps of the bus. Fiona and I just drew a breath, smiled and said at the same time.
“Pizza question mark!”

The End