Second First Impressions

He looks over at his employers and I see true regret. “I do care. But I can’t help you. Even if I wanted to, Rose wouldn’t allow it.”

Chapter Eleven

The waiter interrupts to present us with pale, unappetizing salads. The plates are dotted with enough dressing to coat one taste bud, plus garnish flowers I’ve seen growing on roadsides. My stomach makes a noise like a disappointed Melanie.

“Is this a tomato?” Teddy’s holding up something on his fork, begging for a subject change. “Is it a see-through beet? A dead onion?”

“It’s the ghost of a tomato,” I decide, and we scrape around our plates for something edible. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful about a free lunch, but so far, the buttered roll is the standout.”

He asks me now, “Your parents still together?” I nod in reply. “What do they do for a living?”

I guess I’m going to have to cross this bridge now. It’s an unsexy bridge, which makes people think it’s a shortcut to understanding why I’m like this. “You are having lunch with the Reverend’s Daughter.” I take another wincing sip of wine.

“Don’t drink it,” Teddy says.

“Not even one second after learning I am a reverend’s daughter, you’ve decided I’m too sheltered to drink wine?” I open my mouth and gulp it all. I breathe out wine fumes and feel like I swallowed a lit match.

“No, I was saying don’t drink it because you clearly don’t like it. You don’t have to do everything

Renata says. She’s less than five feet tall. What’s she gonna do to you?” Teddy sips from his water glass. He’s a chauffeur, after all. “Do you still go to church?”

“If I’m visiting home, I’ll go to avoid a fight. But I don’t have a church I go to here. My dad is disappointed in me.” It’s quite frankly amazing how I’ve managed to KonMari those feelings into a matchbox. I’ve lost faith in the church, and my dad has lost faith in me. Which came first? I hold up my glass to a waiter. “I need another glass, please.”

Before I can answer, Renata’s voice cuts through the room, making patrons around us wince. “What are you two little lovebirds talking about?”

Teddy lets me field this one. I can’t even stage-whisper, because her hearing isn’t good enough. “Daddy issues?”

“Carry on,” she says waving her knife airily. And because Teddy’s eyes are bright with amusement when I turn back around, the stares from the diners around us don’t affect me in the way I thought they would. Who cares.

The wine has curled up inside me, warm and snug. I should probably try to soak it up. I point at the bread rolls and Teddy begins to butter another one for me. “You just do them better than me,” I explain and he doesn’t think it’s strange. “I’m hungry and somehow already drunk?” The waiter gives me my second glass with perfect timing.

Teddy assesses me. “You’ve only had two bread rolls and the ghost of a tomato. Can I ask what’s for mains?”

“Spatchcock,” is the waiter’s listless reply. “But soup is coming.”

“We’re too hungry for mini chickens. Could we change our order? Let’s go for the steak. That okay, Ruthie?” The waiter is very irritated and walks off. Teddy is pretty pleased with himself. “I’ll be in trouble for that later.”

“Thank goodness the Parlonis are paying. I’m broke.” I could use that money Teddy owes me, but I don’t care about it anymore. He’s a day out at the carnival and I’m happy with the price I paid.

“I haven’t forgotten.” He digs around in his back pocket. There’s the unmistakable sound of Velcro ripping, and a nearby woman looks over at his lower body in alarm. “Oh please no,” he groans, patting his hip. “Not now, not here.”

I try to see under the tablecloth. “What’s happened?”

He’s puzzled. “You’re kidding, right? Didn’t you see the ‘Hot Stuff’ name tag? This is a stripper’s costume. It’s all held together with Velcro.”

“I’ve taken it to the dry cleaner so many times. What must they think of me?” As I pour the second glass of wine into myself, the looks I’ve gotten now make sense.

“That you know some pretty hot guys.” The look he gives me is devilish as he carefully fishes out his wallet with only a small amount of ripping noise this time. “My next Good Samaritan came through. This really nice lady found it at the Laundromat. It’s always ladies. Dudes are garbage.” He opens it and a cartoon moth flies out. He scrounges out battered notes. “Twenty dollars. Thank you.”

Our debt is cleared. I find I don’t like having this link between us erased. His wallet is a squashed leather medieval relic, run over by horse and cart a thousand times. I want to open it and read every single card and receipt. I want to sleep with it under my pillow. Oh no, this isn’t good.

He asks in an easy conversational way, “Who was the last person you dated?”

“My boyfriend’s name was Adam. Yeah, I know, I went pretty literal with what kind of guy I thought my dad would approve of.” The waiter takes away my uneaten salad. “We dated, or I guess you could call it dating, from sixteen to . . . the morning after prom night.”

“That sounds like an interesting story right there.” Again, we are interrupted. A small bowl of pink soup is presented to each of us. I touch the side of the bowl; it’s cold. Teddy asks, “Excuse me, what is this?”

“Lithuanian cold beet soup.” The waiter manages to say this with a straight face. Teddy wisely keeps the agony out of his expression. His employers are always watching.