B. Alexander Howerton by The Wyrding Stone Page B

started,  “You’re a schoolteacher.”
    “That’s right,” Julia nodded slowly.
    “Do you like it?”
    “Oh, I love it.  I’m so fond of my kids.”
    “What grade?”
    “Second grade, this year.  And you?  Jane tells me you do
something with computers?”
    “Yeah, I install new computer systems and networks for
Compumark.  Mostly the jobs are here in town, but sometimes I have to do a
little traveling.  So you talked to Jane about me, eh?  Is that how you decided
that it was safe to go out with me?”
    Julia quickly glanced down at her hands, hiding a smile. 
“Yes, I checked your references.  It seems as if you’re not a serial killer or
anything.”
    Alan laughed incredulously.  “Thanks for the vote of
confidence.  I bet you two had a good gossip session about me.”
    “Well, she did tell me about some of your finer exploits.”
    Alan put his face in his hand.  “Oh no.  What did she tell
you?”
    “Oh, nothing important,” Julia responded coyly.
    The waitress brought their drinks just then.  Alan had
ordered a red ale, and Julia stuck to blush chablis.  Alan held up his pint
glass.  “Well, here’s to nothing important.”  They clinked glasses.
    The combined effect of the atmosphere of the restaurant and
a few glasses of beer and wine put them both at greater ease, and before long
they were laughing and sharing stories, and were amazed at the inevitable
overlap of tastes and interests.
    “This is amazing,” Julia said, catching her breath after
gulping wine a little to quickly.  “I can’t stand Sandra Bernhart either.”
    “Oh, I know,” Alan enthusiastically responded, “And Courtney
Love should just be blasted into space or something.”
    Julia laughed, putting her hand to her chest.  Alan noticed
how beautiful she looked, laughing.  Her mouth spread to dominate her whole
face, revealing her wonderfully white teeth.  Her long nose wrinkled at the
sides, and her eyes disappeared into slits behind those wonderful dark
eyelashes.  Her dark eyebrows were perfectly formed, giving a mysterious,
timeless cast to her face.  Her cascading straight black hair, falling to her
shoulders, framed her face perfectly.
    “This is incredible,” she gasped, recovering from her
mirth.  “It’s almost as if I’ve known you before or something.”
    “Naw, it’s probably just coincidence.  Do you believe all
that reincarnation stuff?”
    Julia feigned reproach.  “Careful, young man.  I’ve read
Shirley MacLaine, Betty Eade, And the Celestine Prophesies.”
    “Oh, gosh.”  Alan rolled his eyes.
    “Now, come on.” Julia lightly slapped the back of his hand. 
“How do you know it’s not true?  I mean, some things you just can’t explain any
other way.”
    “Like what?  That we like a lot of the same stuff, and have
a lot of the same friends, but never met before?  Pure coincidence.”
    “Oh, you’re so unromantic.  What if we’ve known each other
before?  What if we keep running into each other in every lifetime?”
    Alan snorted.
    “It’s possible!” Julia protested.
    “So is the Detroit Lions winning the Superbowl, but it’s
highly unlikely.”
    “Well, let me loan you a couple of those books, and we’ll
see if you don’t change your mind….  Hey, there’s Jim and Jane.”  She waved
them over.
    In a short while Carol, then Steve, then some other mutual
friends showed up.  Before long they had a long table full of carousing,
laughing friends.  Eventually the strains of a Troll For Trout tune wafted up
from the floor below, and the gang went down to the bar area where they were
playing and danced for many hours, closing the place down at two A.M.  Alan had
switched to water somewhere around twelve, and convinced Julia he was alright
to drive.  He parked the car on the street outside her apartment, and walked her
to the door.
    “That was a whole lot of fun,” Julia said, smiling.  “We’ll
have to do it again sometime.”
    “So, can I call