Member-only story
Fiction
A Table For Two
More than dinner less than friends
I smiled when she sat down at the table. I had only been waiting ten minutes. She wasn’t as late as she used to be.
“Where’s the boyfriend?” I asked as she sat down. She dressed conservatively, jeans, boots without a heel and a sweater, though one of the those sweaters without the shoulders.
“Nice to see you too,” she said as she looked at the menu.
“Sorry, how have you been?”
“Fine.”
“That used to be your favorite word,” I said.
“I have a new one now.”
“Oh, what is it?”
“If you keep being smart you’ll find out.”
“This is just how I talk.”
“I’m well aware.”
“You used to like it,” I said taking a sip of water.
“You still don’t drink?” she said while she gave the waiter her drink order.
“After what happened?” I said, “No. Never. I’m surprised you do.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” she asked. She had a way of arching her eyebrows that let me know I crossed the line. I used to care more about not crossing it. But I let it go this time.
She sat there, silently reading the menu. I’d known her since she was three and she has always made the same face when she read something. Though, now she didn’t wear glasses.
“Seriously, how’s work?”
She finally looked up from the menu. “The kids are good.”
“What grade are you teaching now?”
“11th grade history.”
“I didn’t know you were teaching high school now.”
“I’ve always taught high school.”
“Huh,” I said.
“God, you really never did pay attention did you?”
I let it go. I could never tell if she was trying to get a rise out of me.
“Why don’t we start over?’ I asked. I was beginning to think this was a bad idea.
“It’s far too late to start over.”
