Page 54 of Every Christmas Eve
‘That’s a good sign. Take your time,’ I say to her. ‘I’ve never seen you wearing glasses before. You suit them.’
She catches my eye above the menu, flashing a very sultry smile. I already know I’m in trouble. I knew this might be the case in such an intimate setting. It’s one thing going for a drink together, but sharing a table for two over dinner puts us in an entirely different realm.
‘This is surreal, isn’t it?’ she says.
‘Surreal? Yes, I suppose it is,’ I reply. ‘Did you ever think this would happen again?’
She lays the menu down and takes her reading glasses off.
‘It depends on whatthisis,’ she says, firing the loaded statement at me.
I know exactly where she is coming from, but it’s a bit early in the evening for old wounds to seep through.
‘This. Us.’
‘If you mean us spending time together,’ she says, ‘then yes, I thought coming back here upped the odds of our paths crossing at some point.’
‘It’s nice,’ I tell her, doing my best to keep things as light-hearted as possible, even though she’s had a tough start to the evening.
‘Yes, it’s very nice,’ she says, unable to hide her smile. She takes a sip of her wine. ‘I never thought we’d share dinner alone again, Ben. No. I didn’t ever allow my mind to go there. It was too much to handle, but I did imagine seeing you again. I enjoyed that fantasy a lot. The rest I couldn’t cope with.’
I can only agree.
‘So, what’s it going to be then?’ I ask, swiftly refreshing the conversation before we find ourselves on murky roads. ‘Turkey, ham and all the trimmings? I’m tempted by the fillet steak.’
‘Now, there’s a surprise,’ she jokes.
‘Some things never change,’ I reply. ‘Do you remember when we came here one year on the night before the party?’
She lights up at the memory.
‘How could I forget?’ she says. ‘We sped through the final preparations like Tasmanian devils to get here before they closed.’
‘You gave me a Pink Floyd vinyl.’
‘Wasn’t that the year before?’
No, it was that year because I remember I’d bought you a fine gold chain I’d picked up in a market in Bali.’
‘With a turquoise stone,’ she recalls.
‘That’s the one.’
‘I still have it, you know.’
‘The necklace?’
‘Yes, the necklace,’ she tells me. ‘I never wore it since, but I kept it tucked away and when I moved back here six months ago, I found it in Mum’s house right where I’d left it, at the back of the drawer in my bedside locker.’
I feel my heart soar, even if we are picking at scabs in a way I’m uncomfortable with. I can’t believe she kept it.
‘We have so much old ground we could go over,’ I say, hoping to nip this conversation in the bud. ‘But like you say, we are where we are now, so let’s try and enjoy the present.’
‘Yes, and since we’ve twenty-plus years of life experience behind us, we should hopefully be a lot more mature than we were back then,’ she says.
We both hold up our hands in agreement, then make a ‘peace out’ sign which makes us laugh. It used to be a regular signal between us when we wanted to be friends again after a petty argument.
‘Thanks, Ben,’ she says to me after a few moments of silence.
