Page 62 of The Vacancy In Room 10

“Fine, but I have things to do, so we have to make it quick. There’s a Super Jumbo China Buffet two blocks down,” I say, grabbing my purse from the hook inside the front door.

“Wait, no. I was thinking Terilli’s or The Vine or something,” he says, and I don’t pause to listen to his restaurant suggestions, I just want to know what he’s here for.

“Don’t worry, they have booze there,” I say and lead the way, and he helplessly follows behind.

We walk down a hopelessly depressing street—no trees to filter the relentless glare of the sun, a few boarded-up liquor stores in between a convenience store with bars on the door and a check-cashing place, all covered in graffiti. The next block is an Arby’s, a strip mall with some nail salons with hand-painted signs in the windows, and a Dollar Tree before you reach the oversize Super Jumbo China Buffet.

Reid hates buffets. They remind him of horse troughs. Oh, well. Here we sit, at a table with sticky vinyl place mats and piles of beige food on our plates. I sip my Super Jumbo soda and wait for the screaming kid behind us to take it down a notch so we can hear each other speak. The kid throwing the fit tosses a hunk of sushi, and it bounces off our table and hits the floor. Reid ducks and curses. Not me, though. I don’t flinch. This is the world I live in now.

“So what’s wrong?” I ask.

“God, where do I start?” he says.

“Did someone die? Get kidnapped? Were you threatened? Tell me what happened,” I ask, overcome with fearing the worst because I already know somebody knows what I did. What if they’re coming after him, too?

“God, why are you always so dramatic? Nobody died, for God’s sake.”

“Then why are we here? You said it was important. Did someone send you a letter or...nobody threatened you?”

“No. What the hell are you talking about? I came to... I just... I came because I owe you...” He stops and looks at his plate.

“What?”

“An apology,” he says, and I choke on a bite of egg roll upon hearing this and cough until my eyes water and then spit it into a napkin.

“Jesus,” Reid mutters.

“I’m fine,” I cough, and just then another kid—a toddler on a leash—wanders his leash-length limit from the booth next to them and stares at Reid, who is very uncomfortable. He shifts in his seat and doesn’t know what to do, so he takes a wonton off my plate and tosses it like he’s throwing a ball for a dog, and the toddler actually does go and chase it, to my delight and surprise.

“Hmm. So you’re gonna be a dad then,” I say, not concealing my sarcasm. Then, “What are you apologizing for exactly?” I keep marveling at the fact that I am saying the words that I’m saying and not melting at the idea of an apology I’ve longed for. Maybe trauma changes you, or maybe that party made me finally let go of something and see who he really is.

“I just... I know I handled things poorly, and I just want to make peace,” he says.

I look to either side of me, then behind me and back to him. “Are you talking to me?” I ask.

“Why do you do that?” he asks.

“What?”

“You’re just... I’m trying to say I’m sorry here, and you’re always so...”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Rough around the edges. Crass. I just want a civil conversation.”

“Oh, is that what you want? Do you always insult people in the middle of your apologies?” I ask.

He sighs and leans forward in his chair. “I’m sorry. Let’s start over. Maybe we can put a pin in this and meet for a nice dinner somewhere later, get those espresso martinis you like at the Casablanca,” he says, and I gasp out of nowhere, startling him.

“Holy shit!” I say, louder than intended.

“What!?” Reid looks around, trying to figure out what I’m reacting to.

“No way!”

“What?” he demands again.

“She left you!” I say, laughing, and then I stop and really look him in the eye. “Is that why you’re here? You’re not denying it. I was kidding for a second... I mean, I thought I was just being a dick, but...holy shit. That is why you’re here.”

---