Something Missing_ A Novel - Matthew Dicks [93]
Surely his penis was more germ-free than these bacteria farms.
But if Martin was able to avoid the restroom door entirely, by trailing behind another man or pulling it open with a napkin, he found that he could often enter, sidle up to a urinal, and complete his business without coming into contact with anything save the his pants buttons and his penis. On these occasions, if the restroom was empty, he would exit without washing his hands.
Sadly, this didn’t happen very often.
On this particular evening, two older men were occupying the restroom with Martin, discussing the degree to which they hated their boss, so he was forced to use the faucets and soap dispensers lest the men see how “unsanitary” he was. Because of an absence of paper towels (the restroom was equipped with hand dryers), Martin chose to leave the water running when finished rather than placing his clean hands on the faucet knobs once again. Someone else could turn it off after he had left. Using his foot, he pushed the door open without coming into contact with any part of it, and made his way toward the front of the restaurant.
As Martin approached the table, he noticed that Laura was speaking on her cell phone. As he came closer, she looked at him and smiled, unable to contain her excitement. “Just a minute,” she said to the person on the other end of the line before asking Martin, “What time is your parents’ anniversary party on Saturday?”
Unsure of what might be the best answer, Martin answered “Noon,” sticking with his strategy of avoiding numbers while fabricating.
“So you’ll be done by seven?”
“Yeah, I should be,” he answered, almost immediately wishing he hadn’t. “Why?”
“You’ve just been invited to Daniel Ashley’s surprise party. A guest of honor of sorts. The man who saved the surprise from ruin.”
Martin sat down and placed his napkin back in his lap, trying to contemplate what had just happened as Laura finished her call.
“Okay Justine. Let me run … I can’t. We’re still having dinner. I’ll call you tomorrow … Okay okay. I’ll call you tonight. Bye.”
Martin waited until she had closed her phone before beginning. “Laura, I can’t…”
“Yes you can,” she interrupted. “You’ll be my guest. It’s perfect. You’re already going to be in Westbrook, so why not? If it hadn’t been for you, Justine’s planning would’ve been ruined and I would be in the doghouse. Justine wants you to be there, and I want you to be there, too.”
It was the mixture of her gratitude, combined with the words I want you to be there, too that made refusing her invitation impossible. He couldn’t believe how fast his heart was racing.
“Okay, I’ll go. It sounds like fun.”
As they ate and chatted about their lives, Martin tried to assess the damage that might come from attending the Ashley surprise party and meeting a client face-to-face for the first time, but he found himself unable to focus, distracted by the woman across the table whom he couldn’t take his eyes off of. Other than his fictional family and career, he had managed to stick to the truth throughout the rest of dinner, telling Laura about his home, his friends, and answering questions about religion (he was a nonpracticing, skeptical Christian) and favorite films (Field of Dreams and As Good as It Gets). When the check came, Martin made a perfunctory attempt to pay the bill but knew that Laura would insist. He allowed her to pay without complaint,