Chapter twenty-seven
Antonia
People eat dinner every day. There’s nothing dangerous about a meal. Well, unless you’re a politician and eating with your enemy. For me, tonight should be safe enough. So why do I feel like stepping off the edge?
My bedroom mirror doesn’t recognize me. The black tailored trousers are the same. The pressed soft green shirt. But the red waves hitting my shoulders haven’t seen light in years. I applied my lipstick once. A strong red. My normal color in the office.
I reached for the wipe, thinking I should change to something more understated. A pale pink perhaps? But I stop my fingers before they rise. No, this is my color.
My coat hangs ready by the door. My bag beside it. A glance at my watch tells me it’s 7:51 p.m. Less than ten minutes until we are due to meet. It’s only a three-second walk to Rico’s. I can see it from my window.
The window, divided by black lead, glows warm. There are already patrons inside sipping wine. A waiter moves to a table, placing two plates down simultaneously, and both diners pick up their forks and dive in.
My table by the window sits empty, ready for us to join it. I reserved it so I can see. I’ll wait here until I’m certain he’s inside. I don’t wait in restaurants. And I don’t wait for men.
It’s dinner. That’s all.
I haven’t dated in years. Possibly ten.
I’m not starting today.
After Luke left, I tried occasionally. Boardroom types with polished shoes and louder credit cards. It never lasted beyond a handful of dinners. They left knowing very little about me. I preferred it that way.
The familiar black car glides into the space at the entrance. He couldn’t have made it look smoother if he tried. As the driver’s door opens, a shoe as well-shined as the car appears first, then Ben.
He glances into the restaurant. Hesitates. Then closes the car door. He pulls his winter jacket a little tighter before walking inside.
I stay at the window—watching.
Rico shows him to the table, takes his coat, then disappears to the rear of the restaurant. Ben takes his seat, every so often glancing outside. His fingers lock together, and he rests his elbows on the table, hunched forward.
He looks lost waiting for me.
A minute passes. I just stand there watching him wait. Knowing I need to leave, but my feet feel heavier than I can lift.
He pulls his phone from his shirt pocket. He’s dressed well, but not corporate… more casual. I catch a glimpse of myself in the window. Business dress with curls, the same but different.
My phone beeps.
I’m here.
Simple. To the point. But comforting nonetheless.
Three minutes away.
I type back. Not wanting to leave him on read.
Always so accurate :-)
He adds a smiley face to the end of the message, and I smile along with it.
I don’t give myself time to think, just grab my coat and bag, then head outside.
My pulse quickens the closer the door gets. I keep my eyes forward, not sure if he’s seen me, but I don’t want to be caught looking.
Hidden from him in the entrance, I count to five. Inhaling and exhaling, steadying the ridiculous knot in my chest. Rico spots me in the doorway. He nods, but doesn’t make the usual fuss of welcoming me in. I appreciate it.
The moment passes, and I walk in.