Page 34 of Raise The Bar
She lets out an audible gasp and leans closer, holding the wine list up to shield our faces from anyone who may be reading lips. “I do too! I always just go along with whatever people suggest, but I’ve never sat down to a meal and thought ‘gee, the dryness of this moscato really brings out the fishiness of the salmon.’”
“Or the earthy notes of this cabernet sauvignon really accentuate this sirloin.”
We’re snickering at the private joke when someone clears their throat beside us. We peek over the menu to find a severe looking middle aged man clad entirely in black staring at us.
“Good evening,” he says stiffly as he looks down at us. “My name is Anthony and I will be your sommelier this evening. Can I be of any assistance.”
Maggie’s expression is so priceless, I have to resist the urge to take a picture of it. She’s wide-eyed and frozen, like a child who’s just been caught with her hand in a cookie jar.
“The lady will be selecting our wine this evening, thank you.” I smile up at Anthony then say to Maggie. “Have you decided what you’d like?”
“Umm…” Her eyes frantically scan the menu. “The Hourglass sauvignon blanc, please.”
“Very good,” Anthony extends his hand to take the wine menu from her and she hands it to him. He walks away and she slumps in her chair, exhausted from our brief charade.
“You okay there, Lois?”
“He definitely knows!” she hisses and I double over laughing. “Don’t laugh! He knows how we feel and we’ll probably be asked to leave!”
Thankfully, that doesn’t happen.
Our wine arrives and we order our meals. The next couple of hours pass in a blur. The conversation is effortless as we talk about everything and nothing. I sample her lobster gnocchi and she steals the grilled mushrooms from my steak. We talk about our favorite places in the city and argue about baseball; she cheers for the Red Sox, I’m a Rays fan. We continue to confide in each other little known facts about one another. She tells me her greatest fear from childhood is being eaten by a shark. I tell her my aunts used to use me as a mannequin head to try out new make-up techniques. She tells me about her porcelain unicorn figurine collection. I tell her I can hold my breath for up to three minutes underwater.
When the bill arrives and I realize that the restaurant is closing soon, part of me can’t believe it. It feels like we just sat down. She excuses herself to go to the bathroom and I watch her walk away, not wanting to lose sight of her for a second.
If this had been a date, it would have been the best one I’d ever been on. And now it’s over.
“Betty says ‘hi’ by the way,” Maggie tells me as we’re walking out. So, she did tell Betty we were hanging out. I’m pleased, and surprised that I didn’t hear from Josh on the matter.
“What are those two lovebirds up to this evening?”
“Babysitting, if you can imagine it,” she laughs and shakes her head. “Has he told you about Frankie?”
“His friend from work? Yeah.” Frankie is the other Phys Ed teacher where Josh teaches. Josh has mentioned her many times and it’s obvious that he thinks the world of her.
“It’s Frankie and her wife’s anniversary, and Josh volunteered to take care of their son, Oliver, so they can have a night out.”
“Ah,” I grin, picturing the scene. “So Betty’s taking care of two kids tonight.” She giggles adorably beside me as we stroll casually on the sidewalk.
“Exactly. Earlier today he was drawing actual blueprints for the pillow fort he planned to build. They included a working drawbridge.”
“That sounds about right. I imagine he’s great with kids.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you like kids?”
I do not like where this conversation is headed.
“I haven’t been around many since I was one myself, to be honest,” I admit with a shrug. “But, yeah. I like kids, I guess.”
Maggie nods thoughtfully, like she’s storing that piece of information away. She probably wants a big family. She’s so caring that I know without question she’ll make an incredible mother. I picture her chasing a brood of curly-haired mini versions of herself around a playground, laughing as much as the kids. I push the thoughts from my mind, because imagining her with a family means that I must acknowledge the faceless man who gives her that future.
“Tell me another secret,” I say when we get to her apartment door. She unlocks the door and pauses as she peers up at me, a shy smile playing on her lips.
“I had a great time,” she admits. I’m standing close enough to smell the sweet scent of her hair. A single curl has separated from the others on her head. I want so badly to reach out and tame it.
