The Man with the Reverse-Sock Tan

It was late in the afternoon when the questionable man walked into the restaurant. Joshua had been enjoying the cool summer breeze that came from the lake by which the shadowed patio was made. It had been an unusually hot day, he thought to himself. But the heat was now thankfully retreating along with the fallen sun. He sipped on his coffee and smiled at his girlfriend, Mary. It had been an unusually fine meal, he reflected, and he did not want to be on his way.

She returned his smile with a polite turn of her lips. When the waitress came with the hot coffee in the fancy ceramic pot Mary coolly placed her hand meaningfully over her empty cup. Joshua did not, and smiled once more at his girlfriend as the woman refilled his cup. He thanked her as he lifted the cup to his lips.

"This coffee isn't half bad," he remarked. Though he looked at Mary, the waitress responded.

"It's actually my favorite blend. I come here for my coffee off-hours."

"That's lovely. What is your name again?" Joshua took another sip of his coffee.

"I'm Chasity."

"Lovely. Isn't that lovely, Mary?"

Mary said nothing, but gave a brief smile in return. It was not particularly sardonic but was also not self-deprecating. Joshua looked at her for a moment before turning to the lake water. They said nothing for some time. Meanwhile, a different waiter, a male, had seated a new party. One was a nondescript woman. She was neither pretty nor homely, Joshua decided. A loud man with a wide-brimmed hat, who appeared to be escorting the woman, offered her a chair.

The second man, the third and last of the party, with some time came to seize Joshua's attention. His slightly tall stature was unable to counteract his bulk. Not to mention, Joshua thought, how the Hawaiian shirt and tan khaki shorts served only to enhance the apparent size of his midsection.

The shoes the man wore, however, provided the keenest speculation. Contrary to his experience with such figures, Joshua noted the tan ankles of the man. But a mere few inches upward revealed a most shocking contrast of skin color. The man was by no means darkly tanned, though he was impressively tanned given his German heritage. But his calves were remarkably white. Not the color of porcelain, of course. But the immediatecy of the tanned ankles caused the eye to increase the appeared difference in color. The whiteness continued up the man's leg beyond his shorts. It must have ended somewhere under there because Joshua saw no sign of such a dramatic shift elsewhere on the man.

The man’s legs baffled Joshua. Sock tans were quite normal. Given the man’s appearance, Joshua did not for a second doubt that he was capable of what was quite an accidental, though ignorant, tan. But a reverse-sock tan?

“I wonder how he managed to get that,” he mused.

“Get what?” Mary said, after some delay.

“The man over there. His calves are white.”

“Is that so?”

Again the two fell into silence. She fumbled in her bag for something while he continued to stare at the man’s calves. The two men did not notice the odd behavior of their neighbors and continued their conversation. They did not talk loudly and Joshua could hear them discuss the food.

The woman glanced at Joshua intermittently while listening to her companions’ conversation. She did not appear to know what he was doing. The waiter came to take their orders. The men each ordered the Salisbury steak with loaded mashed potatoes and Portobello mushroom. The man with the hat asked for his medium rare. The man with the reverse-sock tan asked for his well done. The waiter hesitated briefly before writing this down. The woman ordered a filet of haddock. She then whispered something into the waiter’s ear and turned back to her lemonade, blushing.

The waiter went back inside with his orders and put them through. He then paused at the door before catching the eye of his coworker. When she came over to him he spoke softly so the patrons would not hear. The waitress nodded, and walked over to her table. Chasity smiled apologetically to Joshua. Mary continued filing her nails.

“Hi. I’m terribly sorry to even mention this. But someone asked me if you could please keep this a comfortable environment. I know you probably didn’t mean anything by it, but it’s our mission to take care of the needs of every one of our customers.”

“Oh, me? I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking about what I was doing.”

Chasity smiled again before setting the bill on the table and leaving for another table. Joshua did not pick it up but instead continued to sip his coffee. Mary briefly looked up at her boyfriend and smirked derisively. She snorted and went to brush her hair.

A smoke

I decided I needed a smoke and asked Charley if he would share it with me. Of course he agreed.

"Much appreciated, my good Chap," I said.

"Piss off."

Charley came from across the pond. He did not care to overemphasize this within our circle of friends. Naturally, none of us would have it and we took advantage of his upbringing every opportunity we could. He was none to fond of this.

We stepped onto the porch of Doug's house and I shut the door behind us. Still, the muffled sounds of merry-going seeped through. I did my best to ignore it and focus on the drizzle outside. I lit my cigarette and handed another to Charley.

"Bloody hell, did I need this. Too much political philosophy going on in there, old fellow. I never much cared for political philosophy."

"It's a damned sham," he agreed, nodding.

"I always thought Rousseau and Locke were a couple of blowhards."

"John Locke does on occasion say something useful," he contested.

"That's true. Most of it is garbage, though. An utter waste of time."

Charley did not reply to this. I walked over to one of the chairs and sat down. I watched as the bugs gathered around the porch light. There were quite a few, but not as many as usual. The rain was fairly heavy. I watched one moth in particular who strayed dangerously close to the open air. A droplet must have hit him because he slowly fluttered to the wood, struggling.

"What would it be like to be a moth during a rainstorm?" I asked Charley.

"I imagine it would be a hard life. There aren't many places one could go without risking his life."

I nodded and took a long drag of the cigarette. I wouldn't much care to be a moth. It was interesting to think about, but was something I would never actually consider. I liked the rain too much. A frog, now that was an animal I could get behind. Sit on a lily and wait for flies to come to me.

"Hey Frank?"

"Yeah, Charley?"

"Are you anxious about the future?"

"I try not to think about the future. It's too far away."

"You know what I mean, Frank. There are at least a dozen other guys just like us back in Doug's house. We all know there are not enough professorships to go around. I can't imagine investing the time and effort for my doctorate and end up teaching social studies."

"What a load of rubbish," I told him. "Those guys don't know a whit about metaphysics. They're a batch of hackneyed politicians and moralists."

"I suppose."

I finished my cigarette and flicked the butt onto the ground. We stood up and went to go back inside. As I closed the door behind us, I hesitated. The moth remained on the porch since it had first fallen. But now it was slowly raising. It began to circle its way back up towards the light to join the other bugs.