Every Day

We take our seats. At first I’m so focused on his reaction that I don’t notice Rhiannon’s. She’s receding into herself, suddenly quiet, suddenly timid. I can’t tell whether it’s Justin’s presence that’s making this happen, or whether it’s the combination of his presence and mine.

We’ve been so wrapped up in our own day that we haven’t really prepared for this. So when Justin starts asking the obvious questions—how do Rhiannon and I know each other, and how come he hasn’t heard about me before—I have to jump into the breach. For Rhiannon, fabrication is a ruminative act, whereas lying is a part of my necessary nature.

I tell him that my mother and Rhiannon’s mother were best friends in high school. I’m now living in Los Angeles (why not?), auditioning for TV shows (because I can). My mother and I are visiting the East Coast for a week, and she wanted to check in on her old friend. Rhiannon and I have seen each other off and on through the years, but this is the first time in a while.

Justin appears to be hanging on my every word, but he isn’t listening at all. I brush his leg “accidentally” under the table. He pretends he doesn’t notice. Rhiannon pretends, too.

I’m brazen, but careful with my brazenness. I touch Rhiannon’s hand a few times when I’m making a point, so it doesn’t seem so unusual when I do it to Justin. I mention a Hollywood star that I once kissed at a party, but make it clear that it was no big deal.

I want Justin to flirt back, but he appears incapable. Especially once there’s food in front of him. Then the order of attention goes: food, then Ashley, then Rhiannon. I dip my crab cakes in tartar sauce, and imagine Ashley yelling at me for doing so.

When the food is finished, he focuses back on me. Rhiannon comes alive a little and tries to mimic my movements, first by holding his hand. He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t seem all that into it; he acts like she’s embarrassing him. I figure this is a good sign.

Finally, Rhiannon says she has to go to the ladies’ room. This is my chance to get him to do something irredeemable, get her to see who he truly is.

I start with the leg move. This time, with Rhiannon gone, he doesn’t move his leg away.

“Hello there,” I say.

“Hello,” he says back. And smiles.

“What are you doing after this?” I ask.

“After dinner?”

“Yeah, after dinner.”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe we should do something,” I suggest.

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Maybe just the two of us.”

Click. He finally gets it.

I move in. Touch his hand. Say, “I think that would be fun.”

I need him to lean in to me. I need him to give in to what he wants. I need him to take it one step further. All it takes is a yes.

He looks around, to see if Rhiannon is near, and to see if the other guys in the room are seeing this happen.

“Whoa,” he says.

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I really like you.”

He sits back. Shakes his head. “Um … no.”

I’ve been too forward. He needs it to be his idea.

“Why not?” I ask.

He looks at me like I’m a complete idiot.

“Why not?” he says. “How about Rhiannon? Jeez.”

I’m trying to think of a comeback for that, but there isn’t one. And it doesn’t even matter, because at this point, Rhiannon returns to the table.

“I don’t want this,” she says. “Stop.”

Justin, fool that he is, thinks she’s talking to him.

“I’m not doing anything!” he protests, his leg firmly back on his side of the booth. “Your friend here is a little out of control.”

“I don’t want this,” she repeats.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be!” Justin yells. “God, I don’t know how they do things in California, but here, you don’t act like that.” He stands up. I steal a glance at his groin and see that despite his denials, my flirtation did have at least one effect. But I can’t really point it out to Rhiannon.

“I’m gonna go,” he says. Then, as if to prove something, he kisses Rhiannon right in front of me. “Thanks, baby,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He doesn’t bother saying goodbye to me.

Rhiannon and I sit back down.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her again.

“No, it’s my fault. I should’ve known.”

I’m waiting for the I told you so … and then it comes.

“I told you that you don’t understand. You can’t understand us,” she says.

The check comes. I try to pay, but she waves me off.

“It’s not your money,” she says. And that hurts just as much as anything else.

I know she wants the night to end. I know she wants to drop me off at home, just so she can call Justin and apologize, and make everything right with him again.

Day 6008

I go to the computer as soon as I wake up the next morning. But there’s no email from Rhiannon. I send her another apology. I send her more thanks for the day. Sometimes when you hit send, you can imagine the message going straight into the person’s heart. But other times, like this time, it feels like the words are merely falling into a well.