Page 57 of Diverge

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Sliding on my leatherjacket, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The weird thing is, I don’t feel sick to my stomach when I look at myself anymore.

My palms begin to sweat as I think about the blind date I’ve been set up with tonight. I haven’t gone out with a woman since Billie, and part of me doesn’t want to, but I owe it to myself and to Noah to at leasttryto move on. If we’re going to live here, I need to move on.

Grabbing my keys off the counter, I drive myself down to the small Thai restaurant she picked. I take a seat at the reserved table by the window as I wait for her arrival, but she is not what I am thinking about. I look to the door as I imagine Billie walking through it.

Her long dark hair bouncing off her curves in a tight black dress. Her smiling ear to ear as she notices me sitting by the window, waiting for her. Her scent floated across the restaurant, surrounding me in florals.

I pinch the bridge of my nose as I shake my head, telling myself to get a grip.

“Hi, uh, are you Nathan?”

My head shoots up as I look into a set of blue eyes.

“Yeah, I’m Nathan,” I reply.

Her smile instantly takes over her face, she extends her hand. “I’m Charlotte.” Her short blonde hair frames her round face.

I reach out and shake her hand. She takes a seat across from me as a waiter comes over to ask if we would like to order drinks. “I’ll have water, please,” she replies as she looks to me.

“And for you?” she asks.

“I’ll have a whiskey, please. Straight.” I look at the waiter, who nods and walks away.

“Whiskey, huh? I guess you do kind of look like a whiskey person.” She eyes me up and down.

I chuckle. “What does a whiskey person look like?”

Her smile grows as she cocks her head to the side. “You.” She opens her menu and studies the first page scrunching her nose as if she can’t decide on what to have.

Desperate to make conversation, I think of something to ask.

“What do you do for work?”

“Oh, I’m in human resources.” She smiles. “So, I pretty much babysit adults all day.” She gives me a soft smile. “What about you?”

“I work in construction... I’m a carpenter.” I pick up the menu and sift through it absentmindedly.

“That must be a hard job, physically demanding on your body.”

“Yeah, but I’m used to it. It’s honest work.” I shrug.

“Hmm.” she nods as her eyes squint as if she’s trying to decipher a code I just read to her.

Her gaze makes me uncomfortable, making me shift in my seat. “What?” I ask.

“I know this may seem a little judgemental, but you don’t really fit the description of an ‘honest’ person.” She gestures to me, her hand moving up and down as if to say, “look at yourself.” “I know society paints a dark picture of things like people with tattoos covering their entire bodies, etc., and it’s shameful of me to stereotype you in that way, so I apologise.”

Her words surprise me. People rarely ever say what they’re truly thinking, so I appreciate her candour. A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips, and I begin nodding my head.

“That definitely is a big assumption,” I say.

“You’re not offended?” she asked, surprised.

“I’ve been judged more times than I can count, so I don’t blame you, nor am I offended by it.”

The waiter brings our drinks, and I take a sip of my whiskey, the alcohol burning the back of my throat. “I admire your courage, though, to say exactly what’s on your mind... especially to someone you’ve just met.” She smiles as she places the menu down on the table.

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