I want to crawl in a hole and die, I thought, but a menu in front of my face is the next best thing. “Um, I just want to look at the dessert menu.” She handed me a menu. “And my friend had to leave. Emergency. Could you wrap up our dinners to go?”
She looked at me as if my medication had worn off and I wasn’t making any sense. “Sure.”
I held the menu up in front of my face and pretended to read it, peeking out over the top every now and again to make sure that the Crawford family was ensconced at their table and not making any sudden moves. Thankfully, Crawford’s back was to me, as was his wife’s; his daughters faced me, but I felt like I was far enough away that they wouldn’t recognize me if I had to suddenly give up the menu. They had only seen me once during what was now known in my mind as the “great hospital debacle,” an event that occurred when I had stopped in to visit Crawford while he was recuperating from a stabbing incident. While there, I introduced myself to his wife—a wife I didn’t know he had. I hoped neither one had inherited their father’s gift for observation.
I continued reading the menu and arrived at “chicken breast marinated in our own combination of ginger, soy sauce, and garlic” when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up and focused on the crotch of a very tall man. Crawford.
“I can see you,” he said.
“This is an extremely interesting menu,” I said. When he didn’t respond, I offered a stupid-sounding chuckle. I looked over at his table, where his family was all turned in their chairs, staring at me. His wife gave me a tentative wave, which I returned. “Who saw me first?”
“Meaghan,” he said. “She spotted you, even behind the menu. She recognized you as the woman she saw at the hospital.”
So one of them had gotten the observation gene. I threw my head in the direction of their table. “You don’t seem too separated,” I said, alluding to his wife. I regretted it the moment it came out of my mouth.
He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. “Christine is going away tomorrow morning on an overnight and asked me if I would take the girls for the whole weekend. She offered to drop them off and I offered to take everyone to dinner. Nothing has changed.”
I snorted. “Great.” If nothing had changed, it meant that they were still separated. However, it also meant that they were probably still legally married, which, for me, was the deal breaker.
He shifted uncomfortably from one giant foot to the other. “I’ve been meaning to give you a call. I wanted to see you.”
“Well, here I am!” I said and threw my hands up, knocking my drink over. Icy vodka flew up in the air, almost in slow motion, and settled right into Crawford’s crotch. With his entire family watching this scenario, I resisted the urge to press my napkin into his zipper and, instead, watched as his face went from almost contrite to a mask of consternation.
He looked down at his pants, the moisture spreading into the shape of Italy. He gave me a slight smile. “Maybe we could try this again at a later date?”
“Yeah. I could do without the Greek chorus,” I said, shooting a glance at the three women at the front of the restaurant who were fixated on our conversation. “Please tell them that my usual greeting doesn’t consist of flying martinis.”
He smirked. “Well, the first time we met, you vomited on me, so this is a vast improvement.”
That didn’t deserve a response so I was grateful when my cell phone rang. “I have to take this,” I said, before looking down and seeing that I really didn’t have to take it: it was my ex-husband. No phone call from him could result in anything good. Crawford stood over me for a few more seconds, and when it was clear that we had nothing else to say to each other, he drifted off, looking over his shoulder with a doleful expression on his face.
I flipped open my phone. “Hi, Ray.”
“Alison…” He trailed off.
“Ray?” I said.
“Alison. I really want to talk to you about the situation with Julie Anne again.” The connection clicked in and out as if he were in a bad cell area. I heard him say my name and