A Simple Call – Part Two

Once in the car, we started chatting animatedly about the past.  I don’t think we hardly took a breath until we arrived at the restaurant.  The restaurant we chose was packed with people; we were like so many sardines in a can.  The wait was usually very long, but well worth every minute.  Chris made her way through the crowd to give her name to the maître d’.  I told her friend that it was a good thing Chris was with us because I was really hungry.  Her friend gave me a puzzled look, but was even more surprised when Chris waved us over to her.  I don’t know how she manages it, but Chris had a way of getting what she wanted, when she wanted it.  If that meant not waiting two hours for a table, then she didn’t wait.  It’s just like being in one of those movies where the lead character has some kind of pull no matter where they go.  I wish I had this skill; maybe it takes money and connections, neither of which I had or have.

We sat in a quieter part of the restaurant, away from the main part of the dining room, especially the crowd at the door.  We could at least hear each other without shouting.  Throughout dinner, the conversation was light, no advice doled out nor were there any probing questions.  I was still tense though, it was a little like being led slowly to the electric chair, but praying that any minute the governor would call and stop the proceedings.  Extreme?  This is how I viewed talking about the intimate details of my life; rather torturous and better left unsaid.  I worked hard to keep the conversation centered on their work with the Red Cross.  A lot was happening in the country and that summer relief workers were being kept busy.

After the meal was cleared away, the three of us just settled in, no one seemed in too big of a hurry to rush off.  I also figured that if I’d made it this far, then I was just about home free.  Chris sat back and ordered a cognac.  My eyes popped over the cost of that one little glass of liqueur, but that’s the way Chris was, whatever she wanted, she wanted it to be the very best.  I liked the relaxed pace of the evening, my life was somewhat chaotic, so the slow unwind was just what the doctor ordered.  Of course, looking back I realize that she was waiting for me to drop my guard.  I told you she was good.

Her friend excused herself to go to the restroom and I caught the look they exchanged.  I wanted to ask her if she couldn’t possibly hold it a little while longer, but I sat there silent and watched my buffer walk away.  I looked at Chris and knew from the look on her face that the lighthearted banter and slow relaxed pace had come to an end; the interrogation portion of the evening was about to begin.  I wondered if Chris and her friend had previously worked out a signal for her to leave.  I wanted to let a deep, long sigh escape my lips, but I held it back.

Chris leveled this look at me.  “So, honestly, how are you?  What’s going on in your life?”  Remember I said Chris had a booming voice, well, I could feel the other diners glancing my way.  I slunk down in my seat, I suspected that those around us were leaning in to catch my answer, not that I’m particularly interesting, but I think some people are just that bored.

Hoping she’d catch the hint to talk softer, I replied in very low voice, “I’m doing okay.  I hate being a single mother, and money can be tight, but otherwise things are fine.”  My response seemed to come out in a quiet rush, but I felt that I had successfully encapsulated my life into one succinct statement and hoped she would be satisfied.  If I were texting this story I would have to add an LOL at my being naive.

She eyed me speculatively, took a sip of her drink, “You’re hiding something, spill it.”   Chris usually started with being very straightforward.  I happen to admire the blunt approach, not rude, just direct.  I like to ‘call a spade a spade.’  In some ways we were birds of a feather, no beating around the bush, just cut to the chase.  That didn’t mean I was going to give her any more information though.

“I’m really not hiding anything.”  I tried to affect the most wide-eyed, innocent facial expression I could.  Somehow I think she could hear my inner dialogue, but how do you make the voice in your head shut up?  My little, small voice was screaming to escape the confines of my skull.

Chris’ eyes locked with mine and without words she seemed to be saying to me, ‘I see deep into your heart and I know you want to talk to me about something.’  She didn’t say that though, instead she said, “I won’t press. I know you.  You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”  She shrugged and put her hands up, as if to signal defeat.  “Can I ask one favor?  Will you give me just a glimpse of the unabridged version?”  She reached over and patted my hands that were folded on top of the table.

I stared down at my hands.  How does she do this to me?  She could make my resolve crumble like a sand castle in the waves of her genuine concern. I could feel the emotion squeezing my chest; it was getting harder to hold back.  What was happening to the brick wall I’d so successfully built around myself?  Maybe if I caved a little it would be okay, she’d back down and I’d get some relief by sharing some of my burdens.

 

(To be continued........tomorrow.....)