Page 49 of Napkins and Other Distractions
“Oh, nothing, just um, hey, how are you?” I stammer, presenting my best smile as I attempt to keep the train on the tracks.
“Lovely,” Val says, “and lovely to see you both again.” She nods at Vincent.
A newfound energy envelops the table, distinct from the memories of our first time here. We have some history now. That first night. The supply closet. Dinner at Gillian’s. Cuddling and kissing in his bed. But we’re being prudent. We’re friends having dinner. And working together. To prove Lear staff and students are more than the data might show. To save my job. But Vincent asked for a date. A first date do-over.
He orders the same bottle of wine from our first night, and I peruse the menu.
“So,” Vincent says, “you and your wife are still friends?”
“Oh yeah, we talk all the time. Our romance withered, not our friendship.”
His brow wrinkles, and the entire top of his shiny head attempts to join. Exes being close always causes some curiosity. “People crave drama, but the fact is, Corrine and I simply didn’t fan the flames of our relationship. We let the sizzle fizzle.”
Vincent sips his water, and his top lip peeks over the rim.
“She’s remarried. To Charlie. That’s her new husband. Happily married. I mean, as far as I know. We don’t discuss their marriage in gory detail.”
“Makes sense. And Gillian is an only child?”
“She has a brother … ” I say. Vincent’s eyelashes flutter, and my stomach swirls like autumn leaves dancing. “Sweetums.”
“Your cat.” A slight scrunching develops on Vincent’s nose.
“He’s a real baby. Maybe you’d like to meet him sometime?”
He blinks rapidly, and he pokes at the two napkins lined up on the table. His fingers grab the corner, tuck, push, and rub the edges. The movement is slight, almost unnoticeable.
“I’m not the biggest animal person,” he says.
“Oh, Sweetums isn’t an animal. He’s my son.”
He snickers. His laugh is small. Barely there. People without pets often underestimate the companionship and love between a domesticated animal and its owner. Sweetums is my rock. And he weighs as much as a small boulder. He’s always there for a cuddle. Corrine is remarried, Gillian has her family to care for, and my obligations to my school community end at five most days. Sweetums needs me. For food mostly, but still.
“That’s actually sweet,” Vincent says, his lips curling. The light flickering from the candle casts a soft glow. His hazel eyes sparkle, and I remind myself we’re here as friends. Or at least I think so.
“Gillian’s grown. Heck, she has a family of her own. Sweetums keeps me company, especially on weekends. Lia and I have our standing date one Saturday each month. I get to be the fun one now. ‘Poppy time,’ she calls it. Plus, now I focus on loving other people’s children.”
Vincent tilts his head slightly.
“At school. The kids. They’re all mine.”
“And they seem to return the affection,” he says.
Val arrives with the wine and dribbles Vincent a taste. He sips, nods, and she pours for us both. The deep burgundy liquid splashes against our glasses, and I remind myself to be careful. Avoid spills.
“And what are we having tonight?” Val asks, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “The usual?”
“Yup,” Vincent says and gives her a cool smile.
Scanning the menu, I order the Seoul Bowl with chicken. It seems like the least messy option.
“Lovely. I’ll get that right into the kitchen for you,” she says, and once again, we’re alone.
“Do you always have the same thing?” I ask.
Pursing his lips, Vincent looks up, searching for an answer, nods, and says, “Yup. I pretty much do.”
He takes a sip of wine, and without thinking, I blurt, “Well, maybe that will work in my favor for dessert.”
