the evening has been Laura’s doing. David didn’t ask me out. That being the case, he shouldn’t have to pay for me. For all I know, he isn’t the least bit interested in seeing me again. If he asked me, I’d go out with him for no other reason than the fact that Laura would strangle me if I didn’t. So I should offer to pay my share, I decide. It’s the right thing to do.
Once the check arrives, Laura looks like she wants to strangle me anyway. The guys reach for their wallets and so do I. David glances at me and then back to the check again, seeming unsure of what to do. Jonathan obliviously puts down a credit card and sits back.
“This is on us,” Laura declares suddenly.
Jonathan turns to her surprised.
David looks from Jonathan to Laura. “That’s not necessary.”
I know Laura is doing this to prevent me from paying. “You were nice to enough to arrange this, but you don’t have to treat.” I reason with her.
She glares at me, trying to be covert about it by pasting on a smile, but her eyes are shooting darts all the same.
“I think we should all chip in,” I say.
Jonathan likes my idea. I can tell.
“That makes sense.” David takes out his credit card and places it on top of Jonathan’s. I then do the same.
Jonathan looks at Laura and nods toward the check, obviously waiting for her to put down a card and trying very hard not to laugh.
Laura opens her mouth wordlessly and then closes it again before turning back to us. “There’s nothing wrong with us wanting to treat you guys. Please, I insist.” Laura is reaching toward the small pile of credit cards.
“No, really,” I say.
“That’s right,” David chimes in. “Thank you, but it really isn’t necessary.”
The waitress comes by, swooping up the cards, and that is how it’s finally settled.
Across from me, Laura sits back in her chair and sulks.
On the way out of the restaurant, she grabs my arm and whispers. “That was ridiculous, Andy.”
I get home just after midnight, relieved the date is done and happy to be home. I’ve been living alone for a while now, and I really like it. I like everything about it. I like the quiet. I like that when I put something down, it’s actually still there when I next look for it. I like that my place stays clean and orderly. I like not having to share the remote. I like cooking or not cooking and just eating ice cream for dinner if I feel like it. I like having every radio in the house tuned to the same station so that I don’t miss a note when I move from room to room.
My family worries about me. I don’t think I’m supposed to like being alone so much.
twenty
I am still fuming from the telephone call I received this morning when I email Bryn. I ask her if she wants to meet at Starbucks. The reply comes quickly. She does.
Katie called while I was on my way into work. She’d spoken to Mike on Sunday. He called to tell her that he was staying at the apartment of a friend with whom he played squash. He inquired about her health and the baby, and then he ended the conversation. Katie spent the rest of the day in tears. She hadn’t brought up their relationship or their future because his perfunctory call hadn’t invited it. “He was really cold,” she told me. I was so angry when I heard this, I was beyond reason. I called him every four letter word I could think of, and Katie did not defend him at all.
Before leaving to meet Bryn, in my new role as project lead, I have a dozen or more emails to sort through regarding project work and assignments. In addition to Nate and me, the new and improved wireless marketing communications team includes Ken and Anand, who sit together in the next row over and communicate with us only through email despite being located less than ten feet away, and two people from Napa in California whom I’ve never met.
Last night Rob emailed me a list of current and newer customers to dole out between us. We are to talk to them individually about their current level of satisfaction with their product and what features they would like to see added. This is generally the first step in defining what will be in the