Dinner Date
How do you know when a dinner date isn't going quite like clockwork? When you have the dreaded uncomfortable silences. Lord knows how we must've looked in the eyes of the diners around us. After the mandatory "hello", "how's life", "I hope all's well with the family" and the ever-popular "It's good to see you again", conversation had withered away into an awkward hush, replaced with the surrounding sounds of clinking cutlery, relaxed laughter and shuffling chairs.
I glanced up at Tim. He was occupying himself with the menu, running his thumb slowly and absentmindedly down its spine. I found myself aching for his thumb to be lovingly stroking my cheek, but pushed the thought out of my mind. It was ridiculous for me to hold onto these absurd fantasies. What we'd had before had been lost long ago, and it would be asinine to think that we could get it back. Still, every time our paths crossed the dreams would return, dreams that maybe there was still something there, even just a faint spark. Of course, I would become disappointed when he never demonstrated any desire for me, but I would always come back with recurring hope that there was a future for us after all. Go on, tell me I was foolish. I did, numerous times.
The sudden movement of his hand jerked me out of my thoughts as he reached for a cup of coffee. I flinched. He examined me questioningly before breaking the silence.
"Well, this is going splendidly," he commented with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "You called me here so we could talk. Forgive me, but there doesn't seem to be much talking going on." He took a sip of coffee and licked his lips briefly. "A penny for your thoughts."
When I didn't respond, instead choosing to drum my fingers on the tabletop and look down at my shoes, he fumbled around in his breast pocket. His fingers emerged with a 50c coin in his clutches, placed it on the table and slid it towards me. "OK, an inflation, how about that?"
I looked up at him and giggled, shaking my head.
Suddenly, I felt his leg lightly brushing against my own. It was a simple touch, unintentional, but nonetheless it send a shiver throughout my body. He could feel a shiver as well, I gathered, because he pulled his feet under his chair quickly and looked away casually, clearing his throat. I could tell that the feel had got to him in some way, and I hoped like Hell that it was in a positive way.
"Sorry," he mumbled, toying with his earlobe. He looked so shy, so unsure.
"So, a penny for your thoughts," I said, trying to make conversation. He smiled, his eyes glistening.
"No, that's not fair, I asked you first," he objected playfully.
"But no doubt you already know what i'm thinking," I replied boldly, raising my eyebrows and tracing a circle around the mouth of my cup. Inwardly, I warned myself to calm down. I was setting myself up to be disappointed once again, and I was getting tired of feeling that way.
"I think I do," he deadpanned, and the leg returned as his eyes burned into mine. He lightly trailed a path with the tip of his shoe from my shoelace to my shin, with almost excrutiating slowness. As I stared at him in return, I wondered - maybe the possibility of us resuming a relationship wasn't such a foolish idea after all. The way his foot was stroking my leg, he was certainly leading me to believe that there was a chance. I prayed that I wasn't getting my hopes too high.
"I've missed you," he whispered, reaching over to take my hand in his. My heart pounded - it was really happening. He does still care for me after all. I felt a wave of relief rushing over me, and I squeezed his hand warmly. I could sense other diners watching us, wondering what was happening between us, but Tim and I didn't care about them. After what had been years of agonising, questioning and denying, we'd finally found each-other again.
I smiled wickedly at him as I called to a passing waiter, "Check, please!"
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