Shaking his head, he joins me with the plates and cutlery. “I really wish you had asked my advice before taking those pills. You’re going to regret it.”
Irritably, I answer, “Well, I didn’t think I needed a second opinion. I needed to stay awake; I took the pills. End of story. They’ll wear off; I’ll crash. It’ll be fine.” When he continues to smile and shake his head, I say, “What? Have you taken these before, or something?”
He nods as he distributes the food. “I’m not sure if you took the same kind, but yes. I have. Once. That’s all it took. Never again.”
Great. I try to pretend I’m not concerned, though, repeating, “It’ll be fine.”
“In the meantime,” he says, “what’re you gonna do with all this energy?”
I cut into my fish. “First, I’m going to eat. Then… I dunno.” My leg jounces under the table. “We’re gonna talk, right?”
“If you insist,” he mutters, then looks up at me and smiles, saying more loudly, “Absolutely. But talking’s not going to tire you out.”
He has no idea what kind of monster conversation awaits him. My nervous giggle is back. To my dismay, I flirt. “What do you suggest, then?”
His fork stops midway to his mouth. He places it on the edge of his plate and sits back. “We could, uh, go for a walk. I don’t know… maybe drop into a pub? Maybe alcohol would counteract the effects of the pills.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t want to start some kind of chemical warfare in my body. One substance is enough, thanks.”
He shrugs. “You might change your mind in about twenty-four hours when your eyelids feel like they’re glued open and all you want to do is sleep.” At my horrified expression, he laughs. “Try not to think about it, though. Let’s talk about something else. Such as… Who at work are you going to miss the most?” he asks, a twinkle in his eyes.
Without hesitating, I answer, “Lisa,” eliciting a comically indignant response from him.
“Uh!”
I set aside my water. “No offense.”
“Some taken, sorry. I can’t believe you’re going to miss Lisa more than me!”
I don’t tell him I hope there’ll be no need for me to miss him. Instead, I defend my answer. “She made me laugh. And stood up for me.”
He starts ticking things off on his fingers. “Well, I bought you sweets and made you laugh and made you… well, I guess we can’t count that, because I never did that at work, but still…”
I roll my eyes at him. “Here we go. It always comes back to that, doesn’t it?”
“For me, yes. It’s important.” Clearing his throat and the table, he takes our dirty dishes into the kitchen and places them in the sink. Then he turns around and braces his weight against his hands on the edge of the counter. “So, who are you going to miss the least? I guess I shouldn’t assume it’s not me.”
I’m not ready to utter her name yet. Twirling a piece of my hair to the point of pain, I say coyly, “It’s not you.”
“Marvin?” he guesses. When I shake my head and look down at the table, he tries again. “Gary? No? Ah, Leslie!”
My head snaps up, giving me away. He laughs. “Ah, yes. Lezzzzzlie. You and she were a bit like oil and water, weren’t you?”
“She’s a horrible person, Jude,” I insist, adding, “Really!” when he waves dismissively at me and chuckles.
“She’s harmless. Just an insecure little girl with daddy issues,” he claims.
This is it! Say it! I scream at myself. Get it over with, so you can relax… or relax as much as it’s physically and mentally possible to do on these stupid pills. But I can’t. I can’t bring myself to tell him that the past six months have been a waste. That our break-up wouldn’t have stuck if I hadn’t been so gullible.
So, I chicken out. I let him keep talking.
“Plus, the only reason she was like that to you was because she was jealous. You’re lovely. Inside and out.”
It’s such a simple statement, but it almost brings me to tears. I think it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” I let slip as soon as I think it.
He shrugs and smiles shyly. “It’s true. It’s a shame no one’s ever told you that.” The next minute would be filled with awkward silence if not for the sound of my foot tapping against the table leg.
Then we both speak at the same time:
“Would you a fancy a walk?”
“I still love you.”
My declaration definitely takes precedence over his question.
He blinks at me. Blushing, sweating, shaking me. When he doesn’t respond right away, I say, “I mean, it’s probably obvious, so I thought I’d toss it out there. Just, uh, for your information. But, yeah. A walk sounds fine. If it’s not raining. Is it always this rainy here?”
I stand up, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, straightening my tunic top, and trying to wet my lips with my dry tongue. I grab my bottle of water and take a long drink, closing my eyes and wishing I could magically transport myself and Sandberg back to the hotel, back in time, to before I took those stupid pills. I picture myself picking up the phone and calling Jude, telling him I’m too tired to do anything tonight. Then falling into the itchy bed and sleeping for a day or two.
There’s a tugging on the bottle in my hand. I open my eyes to see Jude pulling gently on it. I let go of it with both my mouth and my hand. As soon as he sets it on the table next to us, he takes my face in his hands and kisses me. I can feel the condensation from the bottle on his fingers, leaving tiny drops on my cheek as he moves his hands into the back of my