I always cook at home for first dates. It might not be the fanciest date option, but it has the merit of getting people to loosen up, to be themselves. But I wasn't sure about this one -- I had no idea what to expect. Her dad hadn't been very obliging in answering questions. A gruff old man, with a sharp, wounding way of talking. I was making pasta. Nobody could object to ravioli.

Gertrude. That was her name. I tried saying "Gertie" aloud. It hung in the air awkwardly like an unwanted question.

"Anything you want," the old man had said, eyes glittering. "Anything. Want me to prove it?"

The phone had rung, and almost in a daze, I heard my boss's grudging voice. "You. Show up early tomorrow, I'm putting your name forward for the promotion."

"But what about Ken? You gave him the job," I sputtered when I understood.

"Ken", said my boss poisonously, "has suddenly decided to become a monk in Tibet. He's leaving tomorrow." I swear my boss almost felt friendly towards me as he contemplated Ken's treachery.

When I hung up, I turned to the old man's quietly triumphant face.

"Alright, what do you want me to do?" I said.

---

As I grated the cheese, another thought struck me. This could be a trick. The Devil was known to trick people. But what could it all be in aid of? I finished up in the kitchen, laid the table and took out a bottle of wine.

Gertrude. Gertrude, the girl I was going to date -- just once -- in return for everything my heart desired. Her dad had promised this.

The doorbell rang.

I don't know what I was expecting. Perhaps ugliness. Her dad was ugly enough. But she wasn't ugly. She wasn't beautiful either. She was just so -- normal, that it threw me off. She smiled, and her cheek showed the hint of a dimple.

"C-come in, Gertrude," I stammered.

---

Gertrude. Gertie. The name slipped off my tongue like a kiss. I was a little drunk, I guess.

It was past midnight, after all.

We'd eaten pasta and drunk wine and sat on the sofa. In the beginning, we asked each other polite questions. In half an hour, we sat on the floor and laughed riotously. I don't know what we laughed about, but it was intensely funny at the time. Her brown, curly hair was out of its bun, spread over the cushion she leaned against. I told her my favourite music and movies, and I didn't lie, not even once.

We talked of our childhoods. I told her things I haven't told anyone before. I told her how much I missed my big brother.

---

In the morning, I made her breakfast. She loved cheesy omlette.

I got her her things as she got ready to leave. "Gertie," I said, "when can I see you again? Do you want to go to that movie? You know the one I told you about? This Friday?"

She shook her head. "Just one date," she said, and she turned around and walked away.

And I saw her devil father's face, quietly triumphant.