Page 53 of The Orc That Got Away

I shake my head and eye the wine in question on the drinks list. It costs more than some people will make in over a month.

Oh, so he’s really trying to flaunt his wealth here. I swallow down my rising bile with a glass of the most mediocre expensive wine I’ve ever had. Our waitress, Ami, returns with a wood bowl and leaves it in the middle of the table.

“A selection of today’s fresh baked artisanal le pain,” she says proudly. “Complimentary.”

I chuckle as she leaves. “Wow. Free bread at a restaurant? What stellar service,” I say with a sarcastic eye roll. But I don’t even get so much as a smirk from Ragnar. No, he's too busy scrolling through his messages on his work phone. I sigh, loud and unmistakably upset, and still receive nothing in return. Not even a blink. In fact, he seems to be getting worked up over what he’s reading. His eyebrows are low, and his mouth is pulling into a tight grimace.

“I’m sorry, is this a dinner date or a business dinner?” I ask in frustration.

Ragnar looks up at me and blinks. “Why? Is there something wrong with the bread?”

I laugh in disbelief and shake my head. “No, Ragnar, there is nothing wrong with thefucking bread.”

“Then what—”

“There is something wrong with you! With us! With… Ragnar look at you, you haven't even held a one word conversation with me since we got here. You’re either scouring the menu for the most expensive bullshit to shove in front of me like an appeasement offering, or you’re looking for something to get mad about on your phone! What, am I boring? Is that it!”

“No! What are you talking about?” Ragnar snaps.

“Then why would you rather sink yourself into more work than even look at me?”

Ragnar looks at me, confused. “I don’t understand. What’s the problem? I’m here, aren’t I? Isn’t the wine good? The ambiance?”

“Oh my god, Ragnar, fuck the ambiance! I wantyou, remember! I don’t care about your money, okay? I have enough from my own career. I don’t need you to shower me in expensive distractions, I want tobeyour distraction! I want you to spend time with me, to look me in the eye and hold a conversation. I want whoever the Ragnar in Green Haven was!”

Ragnar slams a fist onto the table, making his wine glass tip over and spill the equivalent of about a thousand dollars onto the silk tablecloth. “I am the same Ragnar as I was in Green Haven. It’s just that I have responsibilities again. People depend on me, a lot of them! And I can’t spend the rest of my life ignoring them. This,” he gestures to the table of bread and grape juice. “This is the fruit of my labor. This is how I say I love you.”

“Well, it’s trash,” I state plainly. “I’d be happier sitting on the floor of your place eating generic brand cheese and crackers. So long as you were actually acknowledging I was here with you and not just a hot mannequin to cart around and shove money into.”

Ragnar shuts his eyes and shakes his head. “I don’t understand what your problem is,” he sighs. Then, his work phone chimes again to let him know he has a new message. At seven in the evening.

“Don’t,” I say forcefully. I can be willful too. “Do not look at that message. This is far more important.”

Ragnar looks at me, and in an act of unbelievable defiance, he checks his phone’s message.

“Unbelievable,” I say through gritted teeth. The waitress, sensing a lull in the heated conversation, shows herself and worries over the spilled wine.

“Would you gentlemen care to order your entrees now?” she asks timidly.

“No,” I say. “I think we’re done here.”

Ragnar takes care of the bill without looking at me. The waitress looks at me with sympathy. She’s probably seen this a dozen times in her career.

The car ride home is dead silent. Not even the radio is playing. It’s just the sound of the road and the choking thickness of animosity and tension.

Beautiful. Why did I think it would be different this time? Why did I think this would work?

I’m an idiot.

We walk quietly back to his home, and the tension in me finally snaps and breaks. I can’t take this avoidance behavior.

“Ragnar—” I try to start, but he beelines to his bedroom and closes the door behind him.“Seriously?” I ask, trying to open the door behind him. It’s locked. “Ragnar!”

But no amount of calling for him or knocking on the door gets me anywhere. I take a few deep breaths and calm myself down. Finally, he comes back out with a backpack in tow. Without one word, he walks out the front door and leaves.

I’m left simply stunned.

“Fine. I’ll just… go take care of myself!” I announce to the door, mostly for my own satisfaction.

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