David leans forward. Elbows on the table. We’re closer now, both leaning towards one another, the heat of the candle between us. “We all want to be understood.”
“And when he gives her that library…” I close my eyes. I know I’m drunk, but what the hell. This must be some sort of dream, or a mistake we’ll both regret in the morning. May as well lean into it. “That scene ruined me for all other men.”
David laughs, choking slightly on his wine. “A cartoon library ruined you for all other men?”
I nod, my head bouncing up and down so hard I have to readjust my glasses. “Do you remember that scene? When he draws open the giant curtains? And she sees All. Those. Books.”
“Well, I think-”
“And the chandelier, oh my god. What little girl doesn’t want a chandelier in her private library?”
“Uh, I guess they all do.”
I nod again. Readjust my glasses again. “Trust me. That movie, that scene? Big burly dude gives fantasy library to shy, nerdy girl? Fucking ruined a generation of women.” I take another sip of my wine. “Smart women anyway. Women who love books.”
He’s grinning now. Not teasing me, not laughing at me, but just grinning, a big, happy smile on his face.
“You think I’m silly,” I take another sip of wine, a small part of me wondering if I should care that he thinks I’m silly. An even smaller part of me reveling in it. It’s been a long time since anyone described me as silly.
He shakes his head, grin still in place. “No, not all. It’s just nice to see you like this.”
“Drunk?”
He laughs and shakes his head again, “No. Open, relaxed. You’re a great teacher, but you’re also fun to have a drink with. It’s a nice combination.”
“It is silly, I guess.” I ignore his compliment and run a finger through my hair, idly wondering when it came out of its bun. “Plus, he basically kidnapped her and threatened to kill her father, so the relationship hardly holds up to a feminist lens, but…” my eyes drift closed and I smile, “that library. That library makes it all ok.”
I open my eyes and he’s looking at me. The smile is gone, but his face is soft, gentle in the candlelight. Something serious lurks behind his eyes.
I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. I can’t tell if it’s from me, from him, from the warmth of the candle flame. Or from something else, something created between the two of us.
“Clearly I need to rewatch this film,” he leans forward his face only a few inches from mine, the candle, burned almost down to the quick, flickers beneath us.
“You do.”
“I do.”
“You need to study it.”
“I will.”
“It’s a very important film.”
“Evidently.”
He’s close to me now. His face so close to mine it would take less than a few inches to feel his lips against mine.
I lean back, shaking my head.
“And what’s yours?”
“My what?”
“What’s your favorite childhood movie?”
“Ah,” he leans back. “Easy. Robin Hood.”
“Which one?”
He splits the last of the wine between us. “The old one, the cartoon, with the foxes. Do you know it?”
I laugh. “Of course I know it. Cartoon fox Robin Hood is the sexiest of all the Robin Hoods.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Oh absolutely. I felt so bad for Kevin Costner when he did his version. No human man can compete with that fox.”
“Well, Kevin really enjoyed making his version, so I don’t think he’s too upset about the competition.”
I laugh at that. Of course he knows Kevin Costner. They probably have barbecues with Oprah and Meryl Streep, and prank-call Steven Spielberg from Beyonce’s yacht.
“Tell Kevin I said hi,” I finish the last of my wine, “but I still prefer the fox.”
13
David
Jane pushes a strand of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes sparkling in the candlelight, and her mouth…
Her mouth
Her mouth is stained red from the wine, lips a deep berry color. I finish the last of my glass and watch her swirl the remains of hers. I want to reach across the table and taste her, feel the oaky smoothness of the Chateau Margaux between us.
Before I have a chance, Dory appears at my side, check in hand.
“I packed up an extra chocolate torte slice for you both.” She places a small, neatly folded bag on the table.
“Thank you, honey.” Jane is mellow now. The tension from earlier gone. Nothing a good meal and a good wine can’t fix, it seems. “Are we the last ones here?”
Dory nods.
I smile. We’ve been the last ones for well over an hour.
“Oh, we should leave,” Jane looks at me, folding her napkin on the table and placing it next to the plate.
“Would you like me to call you a cab?”
“I can walk,” Jane says. I lift my eyebrows and she shrugs. “I don’t live too far away.” She pauses. “Neither do you, actually.”
“Well, it’s late,” Dory rests a hand gently on my shoulder, her eyes meeting mine. “She shouldn’t walk home alone.”
I shake my head, “Of course not.”
“It’s no big deal, Dory. I walk home from yours all the time.” Jane looks between the two of us, seemingly confused.
“It is a big deal,” Dory responds, eyes still on mine. I nod.
“But he needs to go to his house,” Jane says, still staring at both of us.
Dory lifts an eyebrow, her face more serious than a moment ago. I understand what she’s silently asking and I nod, and turn to Jane. “I will go to my house, but I’ll get you home safely first.”
“Oh, ok.” Jane nods, as if this all makes sense. “That’s very nice of you.” She turns to Dory. “He’s so nice.”
Dory smiles, “He is.”
“I am.”
“And he’s handsome.”
Dory barely covers a small laugh, “He is.”
I wink at both of them. “I am.”
I slip my credit card to Dory and she returns to the counter. Jane takes a sip of her water,
