Page 49 of Confessions of the Funny Fat Friend

“I was worried it would be awkward,” she admitted. “Being somewhere so fancy.”

“You don’t go out much?”

“No, I’m pretty frugal. Pancakes at Waldo’s and free drinks at Collie’s is about as high-class as I get.”

“You’d love Cottonwood Falls,” I said. “Everything is like that. If you want fancy, you have to go to the city.”

“Do you miss home?” she asked.

I took a drink of my own wine, the bitter liquid sliding down my throat. “I thought I would get used to it, being away, but after four years, I think feeling out of place has just become the norm for me.”

“Are you planning on moving back sometime?”

It was too soon to be thinking about how things like this would affect our relationship, but I had to be honest. “If my boss promotes me, I’d be able to move back home and work there full-time. There would be travel for different projects, but I’d have a home base.”

Jacob came back with our first course. A salad with a mixture of fruits and vegetables I hadn’t encountered. Which left me with a dilemma. I leaned forward and asked Henrietta, “Which fork do I use?”

She giggled, covering her mouth. “I was waiting for you to go first so I would know.”

I racked my brain, trying to remember the etiquette lessons I had in sophomore home economics. “I think you go from the outside in.”

“Let’s do that,” she said. We both picked up our outside fork and tasted the salad.

As Hen chewed, her eyes drifted to the water. The sun was sinking quickly. When she looked back at me, she said, “It’s funny—you can’t wait to get home and I need to leave mine.”

I chuckled, wiping at the corners of my mouth with my white napkin. “Your family seems close.”

“We are. My brothers come over almost every weekend, and when my grandma can’t catch a ride on the senior bus, I take her out. It’s nice. But we’reallready for me to move out and live my own life. I’ve been living at home for far too long.”

“Have you found a house you like yet?” I asked. The food in my stomach settled heavily. If Hen bought a house here, that would be it. Our fates would be sealed... separately.

“I haven’t really looked. I still have quite a ways to go.”

“What do you mean?”

She chewed her lip, that same warring expression from the night she turned me down present yet again. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course,” I said.

Our main course came out, and as we ate, she launched into this story about saving for her grandma that made me see her in a whole new way.

When I didn’t respond right away, she said, “What? You’re thinking I’m crazy.”

Sure, I already knew she was kind, hardworking. But to know how much she’d sacrificed for her grandma without anyone ever asking... it was amazing. “I’m speechless, Hen,” I breathed. “The girls back home—they think of having babies, doing the same thing their parents did before them. What you’re doing, what you’ve done... no one does that. Only you.”

She glanced down at her lap like my praise made her uncomfortable.

“You don’t like compliments,” I observed.

She met my eyes again. “I’m not used to them.”

A little rip formed in my chest at the way Henrietta had been made to see the world. “If we make it to another date, I’ll give you plenty of practice.”

Her laugh tinkled amongst the lap of waves on the boat. “If the food is this good, you know I’m there.”

* * *

As we drove backto her family’s home, her fingers tangled with mine, I couldn’t help but think it had been the perfect first date. The food and scenery were good, but getting to know Hen outside of work? Even better. I could talk to her for hours or sit silently beside her for the same amount of time.

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