Dorian: Part One

by Carlos Dash

  I remove the jacket of my suit and hand it to her. This one is a little different from the one I was wearing at work. That was pure business. This is more of a business casual.

  Yes, there’s a difference.

  “Thanks,” Emily says, taking the article of clothing with a grateful look in her eyes. She wraps it around herself and glances around. “Why is it so cold in here?”

  “I’ll tell them to turn it down.”

  A man in a dark sweater vest appears from seemingly out of nowhere. He has a pair of thin glasses perched on his nose. Hipster glasses. “Can I help you?”

  “Alexander. Table for two.”

  He doesn’t go to search for a clipboard or anything of the sort. Instead, he frowns at me and says, “You’re late.” Apparently he has all the names and reservation times memorized.

  “I know. We ran into some traffic.”

  “Traffic on a weeknight?”

  Who does this fucker think he is? Certainly not the guy I talked to on the phone, who had a voice that was far less condescending.

  “Yes, traffic on a weeknight. It happens. Don’t tell me you gave away our table?”

  He isn’t buying it, but I just want to sit down at this point.

  “No, your table is still empty. Right this way.” He turns around with an uppity look on his face and leads us into the heart of the restaurant. It’s an upscale place, but until I try the food I won’t know what all the hype is about.

  We’re seated in a nice, quiet corner far away from the kitchen, so at first sight there’s nothing to complain about.

  The man leading us put his hands behind his back and moves to leave, but I call out for him to stop.

  “Could you turn down the air conditioner? The lady here,” I gesture towards Emily, “is freezing. She had to put on my jacket to stop from shivering.”

  “I can see that,” the man says, eyeing the jacket that Emily has draped on her shoulders. Or perhaps he’s just eyeing Emily and couldn’t care less about the jacket.

  “Well, are you going to do something about it?”

  The man titters in annoyance. “We had to turn it up because some of the other guests were complaining about it being too warm. Now you’re saying it’s too cold. We can’t please everyone, and it wouldn’t be practical to risk upsetting the other customers just to make you happy. I’m sure you understand.”

  I stare at the man right in his beady, black eyes. “No, I don’t understand.” Without saying anything I’m letting him know that I don’t appreciate his attitude.

  He meets my gaze without blinking for a few seconds, and then he gulps and gives in. “I’ll turn it down right away, sir. The waiter should be along in a moment.” He hurries away as if his life depends on it.

  “See, that’s how you get things done,” I say, turning back to face my date.

  “Poor guy. I think he was about to piss himself.”

  Emily and I exchange a quick laugh, and then a waiter arrives with our menus.

  In my opinion, that’s when a date becomes official. When the two people (or more than two, depending on what weird stuff you’re into) involved make contact with the material of the menus. That’s because before that there’s still time left to make a run for it. To leave your date high and dry because you just realized what a mistake you made by agreeing to go out with that person.

  But once you get the menu, you’ve come too far. You can’t ditch the guy or gal sitting across from you at that point.

  You’re in it for at least an hour whether you like it or not.

  Unspoken rules that even a dating novice like me knows about.

  Chapter 52

  “Did your parents ask why you were taking a taxi?” I ask Emily, looking over my soup.

  She takes a spoonful from her own bowl and nods. “Yeah, but I just told them that I didn’t want to owe the guy anything. That made them drop the subject immediately.”

  I chuckle. “I bet it did.”

  “Uh-huh. They know that if a girl doesn’t depend on her date for a ride, he won’t get any chance to convince her to stay over at his place. He probably won’t even get a chance to kiss her unless he does it right in the restaurant.”

  I nearly choke on my next gulp of soup. The thought of such a public display of affection does something to me that I can’t quite explain. I begin to feel a bit nauseous, and I know it isn’t because of the soup.

  “You okay? You look like you just got some really bad news.”

  I look at Emily and force a smile on my face.

  Obviously it isn’t just an internal thing. She can see it on my features, although she probably doesn’t know that it’s because of what she said about kissing in a restaurant.

  “I’m fine. Sorry. I just tuned out for a second.”

  “I guess I’m boring you already,” Emily says in a matter-of-fact tone, not looking too upset.

  “No, not at all. It’s my mistake. Forget it.” I need to find a way to make this about her and get the focus off of me. “How’s your soup?” That’s a start.

  “Fine.”

  “Just fine?”

  “It’s good.”

  Cue awkward silence.

  A number of negative thoughts come to me. One of which is that perhaps this was a bad idea after all.

  So I had sex with her and that sex was great. Big deal. Maybe that’s all it was. Maybe that’s the only connection we had with each other and now that chemistry has worn off.

  No, I can’t start thinking like that.

  If banging her was the only driving force here, I would have picked up on that. I wouldn’t have taken things this far. I wouldn’t have made her my assistant, and I sure as hell wouldn’t be going out on a date with her.

  I need to snap out of it and get over the hang-ups I have.

  “You know,” I say, leaning forward and placing my forearms on the table. “This is the first date I’ve been on in a long, long time.”

  “How long?” Emily asks with interest.

  “Oh, let’s not go down that road. You’d laugh at me.”

  “Maybe,” the girl says teasingly.

  “Then it’s better if I just keep it to myself.” I look around at the other people there. It’s mostly just couples. People out enjoying their lives. Good for them. “There’s been a very specific reason for that. It’s not just that I’m a bit fixated on work. I’m also not very comfortable with stuff like this. Sitting around and talking with someone and connecting with that person.”

  Emily doesn’t look the least bit surprised. “Really? I would have never guessed,” she says with sarcasm dripping from each word.”

  “It doesn’t bother you that you’re on a date with someone like that?”

  “No. I like it, actually. You’re different. Interesting. You make the other guys I’ve dated seem boring.”

  I don’t know whether or not that’s a compliment. If by “different” and “interesting” she means that I’m unique and far above most other men, then I agree. But if she means that I’m some sort of walking freak show, then I’m pretty sure there wouldn’t be a second date.

  “Then all I can say is that I hope I keep you entertained.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you will,” Emily replies knowingly. “And I like a bit of a challenge? You’re so closed off and emotionally detached. Getting you to become a fully functioning human being will be my hardest job yet.”

  I have to laugh at that. It’s hard to believe she has such nerve.

  She’s talking about me as if I’m illiterate and she’s going to be teaching me how to read and write.

  “What makes you think I’m going to let you change me like that?”

  She rests her chin on the knuckles of her hands. “Call it a hunch.”

  She has balls (metaphorically speaking, of course).

  I have to give her that. She isn’t afraid to say exactly what’s on her mind.

  Chapter 53

  The waiter sweeps down on us and shuffles our em
pty soup bowls away. He informs us that our food will be ready soon, and then he vanishes to attend to another table. Other than him, there are just three other waiters working right now.

  I’m sure the atmosphere is far more intimate than how the place is on most nights.

  “Your thing sounded good. What was it, crème blue… something?”

  Emily smiles. “Not even close. It’s a French dish. Lots of gravy. The kind of dinner that makes someone want to jog five miles the next morning just to burn away the fat.”

  Finally. Now I have a chance to roll my eyes at her.

  “Yeah, you’re really putting on the pounds,” I say sarcastically.

  Right as the last word of that sentence leaves my mouth, I see something at the corner of my vision that makes me thankful I’m not drinking anything. If I had been drinking, I would have done a spit-take and launched some liquid straight into Emily’s face.

  Come on! You’ve got to be kidding me!

  It’s Mr. and Mrs. Reed.

  For a second, I think I might have gotten that wrong, or that my eyes are playing tricks on me. Then I confirm it for myself.

  Yup. It’s definitely Emily’s parents. They’re in that same exact restaurant.

  What the hell are they doing here?

  Did Emily invite them? No. She wouldn’t do that. She’s not crazy.

  A practical joke? No. It can’t be that either. She probably has no idea they’re here.

  “Emily,” I hiss under my breath, hoping I don’t have to get any louder than that to get her attention. A waiter is showing her parents to their table, resulting in them not noticing us as they pass by. Hearing their daughter’s name will cause them to turn their heads, and that’s the last thing I want.

  I need to get out of here.

  We need to get out of here.

  “Emily, I’m going to tell you something right now and I want you to promise me that you’ll stay calm.”

  Emily’s eyes widen. “What? What is it?” She sounds like she’s on the verge of panicking, and I’m not going to tell her that she should stay calm. Her state is completely justified. I’m panicking, so why the hell should she be exempt from that?

  “There’s something behind you that I need you to look at. Don’t turn around right away. Wait a few seconds, and then slowly tilt your head to the side a little. Use your peripherals.”

  “Is it big? Oh, god, if it’s a roach I’m out of here. And you better not pay the bill either.”

  “It’s not a bug of any kind. It’s your parents.”

  Emily looks at me, blinks… and then blinks once more. “Say that again.”

  “It’s your parents. They’re about fifteen yards behind you, getting a table. Okay, now they’re sitting down. They haven’t noticed us yet.”

  Her mouth drops open and she gasps. Gasps like she’s in an old soap opera and someone just said something scandalous.

  “Oh, no. They said they were going to go out when they heard I had a date.”

  “What? Why didn’t you mention that?”

  “Why would I mention it? It had nothing to do with you. I wasn’t aware that I have to keep you updated on every move they make. How was I supposed to know they would come to this restaurant of all places? My dad usually avoids these kinds of locations like they’re going to give him the plague. My mother must have talked him into it. He would rather be at a fast food place.”

  “Fat lot of good that does us now.”

  “Hey, don’t get mad at me. This isn’t my fault.”

  One look at the curvature of her lips makes me regret getting testy with her.

  “Sorry. I’m just a little winded by this.”

  “So am I, but what can we do?”

  I run a hand through my hair. My scalp feels very itchy. This happens to me whenever my blood pressure rises to unhealthy levels.

  “What can we do? We sure as fuck can’t stick around here any longer.”

  “But if we try to leave they’ll see us.” She does exactly what I asked and moves her head a few degrees to her right. She then tries her best to see her parents without completely turning her head in their direction. A moment later she gulps. “Uh-huh. That’s them.”

  Thanks for the update.

  But she’s right. We can’t just ask for the check and then calmly get up and leave. No matter how quiet we are about it, her folks will see us.

  What other alternatives are there?

  “We’re going to have to crawl out of here?”

  “Surely you’re not serious.”

  “I’m one-hundred percent serious. And don’t call me Shirley.”

  I couldn’t help myself.

  Emily’s reaction is predictable. She shoots me a look that screams “Really?”

  I shrug defensively. “My self-control ran out. Now come on, get down on your knees. Wait, that didn’t sound right. You know what I mean. That’s the only way we’re going to get out of here.”

  Emily shakes her head. “It’s my first time in this restaurant and this is how I’m going to make my exit. Wow.”

  A perfectly good night ruined. I can’t see how we’re going to salvage this one. There’s no bigger mood killer than having the parents of the girl you’re on a secret date with walk into the same room you’re in.

  Actually scratch that. I’m wrong. There is one mood killer even bigger than that: Having the parents of the girl you’re on a secret date with walk into the same room you’re in and see you there with their daughter.

  There’s no coming back from that.

  No coming back from that at all.

  I just have to hope Emily and I can avoid that awkward situation and escape without being noticed by her mother and father.

  Fingers crossed.

  Chapter 54

  I can feel the stares of several different couples trained on us, but as long as Emily’s parents don’t see what’s going on, nothing else matters. Hunched over like we’re looking for pennies on the carpet of the restaurant, the girl and I make a mad dash towards the door—I leave a hundred dollar bill on the table, which will cover what we’ve eaten so far, as well as a solid tip for the waiter.

  “No one is calling your name,” I whisper to Emily. “That’s a good sign your folks don’t know you’re here.”

  Emily nods and turns her head to quickly glance back. “They’re seated too far away. They’re not even looking in this direction.”

  “Fucking terrific,” I mumble, unable to feel too good about our narrow escape. A close call is a close call. And the way we’re getting out of there… it’s hard not to feel like a dipshit about it.

  We make our exit out into the night and sigh with relief. But we aren’t out of the woods yet.

  “Where the hell did I park my car,” I ask myself, still feeling humiliated about what happened inside the restaurant.

  “Over there,” Emily points. “Quick. Unlock the doors.”

  I take out my keys and do as she asked. We hurry in and slam our backs against the leather seats.

  “That was close,” I sigh, feeling out of breath despite the fact that we haven’t traveled that much of a distance. Must be the adrenaline.

  “You can say that again. Ugh, I can’t believe they were right there. What if they had seen us? How would I have talked myself out of that one?”

  “Don’t think about it. Obsessing over hypotheticals can stress anyone out. I should know, I do it myself all the time.”

  “Never a dull moment with you, huh?”

  That’s exactly how I feel about her. My entire existence seems to be so much more exciting when she’s around.

  I turn to look at Emily. Even this disaster can’t stop me from appreciating her company. “If I had to look like a complete buffoon, I’m glad it was with you.”

  Emily fiddles with her hair, which is still properly in place. “I think that may be the nicest thing a guy has ever said to me.”

  “You must not have a dated a lot of good guys then.” I say it c
asually, but it makes Emily think for a moment.

  “There have been quite a few duds. Too many, actually.”

  Whoa now. I didn’t intend to put her in a melancholy mood.

  “Hmm,” is all I can think to say.

  Emily’s eyes suddenly lighted up with alertness. “Oh, god. You remembered to pay for the food, right?”

  “Of course. I left enough for the whole meal, as well as a big tip for the waiter. And that’s even though we didn’t get to finish the food.”

  How bout that. We were almost busted by her folks, yet she finds time to worry about the restaurant getting their payment.

  I start the car and reverse out of the parking spot. “So where to next? We could go rob a couple of banks, see if we can liven up this night even more.”

  “Interesting suggestion. But I have a better idea. Let’s go back to your place.”

  “That is a better idea.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. Let’s go back to your place so that I can get a cab and go back home.”

  Seems like our date has come to an end. If you can even call it a date.

  “You sure? No joyriding or anything? You want to call it quits just like that?”

  Emily scoffs “I’m not calling it quits. I’m just saying we should put this off until later. Maybe next time we’ll have better luck and something won’t go wrong.” She stares straight ahead at the lights of the restaurant. “Or perhaps it’s just not meant to be. This is God’s way of telling us that we shouldn’t go out with each other.”

  Why is it that anytime something goes wrong in someone’s life, they say that’s “God” discouraging and warning them? That entire philosophy is so stupid.

  “God has nothing to do with it,” I say with obvious derision.

  Emily turns to me and offers me a curious look. “You don’t believe in God?”

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know, okay? This isn’t the time or place for a deep conversation about religious beliefs.”

  “There’s no need to get pissy. It was just a simple question.”