Dreama’s Journal–October 14
Stefan walked in tall and confident, as always. This time, he seemed arrogant. There was a short, thin business woman next to him. Did they come in together? I hoped she was a stranger just standing near him. No matter how much my mind wanted to separate them, it failed. I handed him a menu and he said, “Put this on the same ticket.”
I guess she was with him. Her bobbed hair emphasized her snooty snoz. She had a cold, distant demeanor. Was this his wife? A coworker? I didn’t care for this woman with the posture of a ballerina and money written all over her dark blue suit. I think she was a pharmaceutical rep too and not his wife.
Not wanting to demean myself, I quickly gave her a menu and smiled. She quickly decided on a Greek salad, so I told her that it was a wonderful choice, even though I didn’t care. I’m sure she felt the same about my opinion.
My mind tumbled over and over. My heart heaved with conflicting emotions, but I forced a smile and gave them complimentary samples of the day’s pasta, Chicken Tropical. It was a favorite of his; I pretended not to know.
“Oh, here,” Stefan said, reaching up from the floor and handing me a box of baby formula in front of his friend.
I stared confused and awkwardly accepted it into my arms like an orphan accepting a gift from a wealthy Scrooge. Was he making a show of his generosity? Didi he want to show this woman that I was his charity case? I felt so small. I backed away, barely looking where I was going. I must have appeared as if I had seen a ghost.
They were sitting at a table far in the corner. He had his back to me. He never sat with his back to me. He always sat so that he could see me. This was too much! I had Stephanie bring their food. Their conversation was lively with plenty of laughter. It hurt! I felt betrayed even though I had no right to feel that way. I wanted to be Circe, the femme fatale pouring a potion into the sea to turn her into a hideous monster.
A hand gripped my shoulder. I turned to Stephanie, the perpetual flirt. How could she do it and never take it personally?
“Hey, baby,” she said. “Don’t do this to yourself. Come on, let’s take a little break.”
She took an herbal tea from the cooler and examined the bottle.
“Oooh, look,” she squealed. “It has got love herbs. There is damiana and passion flower–a name like that has got to be about love.”
She poured red liquid into two glasses and handed one to me. I took it only because she was being so nice. She sat there grinning at me. I couldn’t help but crack a smile.
“That’s my girl. Let’s drink.”
“To what?”
“To love?”
“No, to turning her into a pig or something.”
“Cheers.”
Our glasses clinked and somehow I felt better.