Oregon Tavern Age: The Hallmark Couple

While they waited for their food order, a young couple played pool in the South Jetty on a summer afternoon. I sat ten feet away daydreaming of rainy day women on notebook paper.

Her: white, blonde, long hair, fit, yoga pants, Corona.

Him: whiter, blonder, short hair, fit, surfer shorts, IPA.

They reminded me of a couple you might watch on the Hallmark Channel or see in a Leni Riefenstahl

documentary.

She said, “Apparently the rules don’t apply to you.”

He said nothing and kept shooting.

“You scratched,” she said.

He said nothing and drained a tough shot. He moved around the table for another shot.

“The cue ball can’t move before a shot,” she said. “You moved it.”

She walked over to the wall rack and slammed in her cue.

He said nothing. He was running the table.

“Why am I playing when you cheat?” she said.

She moved a few feet in my direction for a better angle to confront him and I caught the whiff of her angel food cake body lotion. I figured he bought it for her to turn him on. I wondered what she bought for him to turn her on. Then I didn’t want to know.

“You cheated,” she said.

He banked in a solid and didn’t respond, but he did roll his eyes, then his abs.

The bartender announced their food was ready. He set down his cure and they left the table and sat at the bar.

They ate in silence. I waited. I was giddy in the waiting.

A minute later: “You scratched!” she said, setting down her hamburger. She whipped out her phone and fiddled. Seconds later, she displayed it in front of his face for him to watch a YouTube video that confirmed his infraction. He didn’t watch it. He took a bite out of his hamburger.

He swallowed the bite, turned to her, and said something I didn’t catch.

I didn’t want to catch it.

She picked up her hamburger and attacked it.

The Hallmark Couple ate their hamburgers, looking straight ahead, saying nothing. They were being very unHallmark.