Page 79 of Falling Backwards
“It’s fine,” he repeats too.“By the way, in case you wondered, we’re doing this by hand to prevent the water from drying by itself and leaving spots and streaks.Those don’t look good.”
I nod.“That makes sense.I’ll do my best.”
A few moments pass before he murmurs back, “I know you will.”
He doesn’t seem to be making fun of me.
This isn’t the first time it’s happened today, but I’m still not used to it.
We fall into full silence while we carefully work the glasses one by one.I wonder, though, if his brain is as full of questions and comments as mine.I want to know more about the bar and whether he’s been in a weird mood like I have.I want to tell him how much better I’ve felt knowing we’re taking steps to protect me from Kyle, and that even if the guy never shows his face around me again, Luke’s help means a lot to me.
All these thoughts notwithstanding, I wouldn’t say our silence bothers me.He doesn’t appear to think it’s awkward either, so I leave it intact.
In no time at all, we’re done drying everything.
“I think I did a good job,” I say.
He leans around this way and that way, inspecting the array of glasses.“You did,” he confirms.“And you didn’t drop a single one.Proud of you.”
I scoff.Maybe he wasn’t making fun of me a few minutes ago, but this joke is definitely on par with how he usually is.
Except as I look at him closely, a retort on my tongue, I notice his expression seems more easy than mocking.
My exasperation fades.
Another instance of Maggie Misreads Luke?my mind whispers.
I guess if I’ve learned anything since Joy’s birthday party, it’s that I don’t always have as good of a handle on what to expect from him as I think.
My dimmed instinct to be defensive frees up some room for me to choose more cordiality—or humor, like when we sat together at Merritt’s.
The latter wins out.“Yeah, I only drop glasses when they’re full of ice-cold cocktails and there are lots of people around.”
I wonder if he’s going to catch on and mention me being clumsy like he did that night, which will annoy me into arguing, which will probably end up annoying him too.
But his expression is lightening up.“Ah, right.”He pauses.“And don’t forget about when a guy sneaks up on you ’cause he thinks he’s funny but really he’s being an idiot.”
A new bit of kindness—and self-awareness—for me to add to my mental list.
More lightly, too, I admit, “I called you that.After you left my table, I called you an idiot to my friends.”
His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.He looks away and scratches the back of his head like he feels embarrassed.
“Yeah, accurate insult,” he agrees.
Before I can decide how to respond, he blows out a breath and purposefully grabs the phone beneath the bar.
“You done with hostess stuff?”
I nod, but he doesn’t glance at me to see it, so I answer, “Yes.”
“I’ll let Mr.Polk know we’re ready for him to check us.”
Soon, our station work is approved and we have permission to clock out.When we’re ready, Mr.Polk sees us to the door with his typical benevolent goodbyes.Then we’re out in the chilly night.
Between suddenly being cold and not being hidden within the restaurant, I find myself drifting closer to Luke while we follow the sidewalk that’ll take us around to the side of the building, where the proper parking lot is.
So many shadows,I can’t help noting as the other night comes back to my mind.So many spots of blackness, and all those random cars down the street, and it’s getting late, and—
