Up & Out - Ariella Papa [16]
Kathy’s French peasant sausage dish was just plain bad, but she acted like she didn’t notice. Beth’s perogies were good, but twice the price they would be in the East Village. Lauryn’s jerk goat was the best. We opt out of dessert.
When the check comes, it’s outrageous. As usual, we doubled the price of our meals with our bar tab. I knew then why they called this place Poor Man. Lauryn wobbles a little when she stands up. I grab her arm.
“Thanks, I think it’s the antibiotics I’m on.” I look over at Beth. She doesn’t meet my eye. “I think I might pass on another bar, guys.”
“I’m definitely going to pass,” Beth says. “I’m meeting up with this guy from work.”
“Rebecca?” Kathy says.
“Um, maybe I should go back with Lauryn.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Lauryn says. She looks a little flushed.
“Do you want to sleep over?” I ask Kathy.
“How nice, a slumber party,” Beth says. She pushes her chair out. “I’ll see you guys on Sunday. Have fun on your date, Rebecca.”
I’m certain she didn’t mean it. She leaves the restaurant. I sort of shrug at Kathy.
“No, thanks, Rebecca. I told Ron I wouldn’t stay out too late.” I picture her going back and cuddling with him, and feel a pang of jealousy. My night of intimacy will be checking on Lauryn at regular intervals.
We share a cab. Kathy drops us at our apartment near the Flatiron Building and continues on to Grand Central Station.
“Are you okay, Lauryn?” I ask from outside the bathroom. There are some bad sounds coming from in there.
“I’m fine, Re. Just need to wash up and have some water. Have a good night.” My bladder is set to burst, but I don’t think I want to go in there. I hold it, and go to my empty bed. I’ve had just enough to drink to pass out and not think about being in bed alone.
The phone is ringing. It is Saturday and someone is calling at ten o’clock. I am not one of those people who seize the day. Not on the weekend. Who the hell is calling? If it’s a telemarketer, she’s going to get a piece of my mind.
“Hello,” I say to the devil on the phone.
“Is that Rebecca?” The voice is vaguely recognizable. Male. Strange.
“Yes.”
“It’s Seamus. Hello. Did I wake you?”
“No.” I sit up in bed. “Not at all. I’ve been up for…hours.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s a great day, isn’t it? It’s really spring.”
“Yes, great.” I like the sound of his voice.
“So are we still on for today?”
“Absolutely.” Uh-oh. That might have been a little too I-haven’t-had-a-date-in-three-years eager. I clear my throat. “Yes, if you’re free.”
“Yep. I was thinking of a few ideas. I just had my run, but I was thinking since it’s so lovely out we could meet up and bike around Manhattan and then maybe head over the bridge and go to Grimaldi’s.”
Pizza good. Exercise bad. Is he serious? Does he realize it is Saturday? I may be getting desperate, yes, but not that desperate. I don’t even own a bike.
“Or we could go to Esca for dinner,” he says. Sweat or fish? The choice seems obvious. I’m not even sure I understand the question. I’m too tired to be thinking about this. I have to just be honest with him. I don’t want to start a relationship based on dishonesty.
“I’ve been having trouble with my…” I don’t even know what parts are in a bicycle. Gear? Seat? In one of Lauryn’s manic moments a telemarketer had preyed upon her. She had a mini breakdown and because he was so kind to her, she agreed to subscribe to magazines like Field & Stream and Bicycle Boy. If only I had read them, instead of ridiculing her when the mailbox was stuffed. “…tire. And I have a lot of work to do.”
“Oh, yeah, your TV series. How’s that going?” He remembers. How sweet. He is wonderful and I am a low-down, lying ho.
“It’s terrific. Actually, it’s been really busy. I have a lot of work to do today, unfortunately. I’ll have to take a rain check on that bike ride.” Let’s get through an evening together first, bud, then we’ll see where we go from there.
“That