Dinner

Suddenly, a tuxedoed waiter appears at our table. He introduces himself as John and asks if we are ready to order. David chooses the lobster ravioli and a bottle of Bud. I settle on chicken marsala and a Grey Goose and cranberry, which elicits a look of surprise from David.

When John leaves with our order, David raises one eyebrow and asks, “Since when do you drink vodka?”

I grin and reply, “I’m a grown-up now, remember?”

He chuckles.

“Besides,” I add, “I need something strong to get me through tonight.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean," he admits.

“Why? Are you nervous?”

He shrugs. “A little bit. You’re not nervous, are you?”

I nod vigorously. “Nervous as a cat!” I can’t tell if this admission pleases him or not, so I continue, “It’s not you. It’s just been a really long time since I’ve been out with another man. Not that this is a date or anything like that.” I take a deep breath. “And it’s really good to see you, but it makes me a little nervous, I guess. It’s just...different.”

We smile shyly at each other as John returns with our drinks and and a basket of steaming foccacia bread. David raises his glass to me and whispers, “To our great friendship.”

“Cin cin!” I respond, clinking my glass against his beer bottle. We drink, I with perhaps too much gusto.

By the time we are halfway through dinner, David is cutting up bits of his lobster ravioli and feeding them to me. Truth be told, I can't eat very much of my dinner. I feel above the need for food, perfectly satisfied and content just basking in his presence.

After our meal ends, I eschew dessert in favor of limoncello. When I ask John for a glass, David shoots me a puzzled look. “What’s that?”

“It’s an Italian digestivo, an after-dinner drink that you sip,” I explain. “It’s really good. Tastes like a lemon drop.”

He calls to John, “Make that two!” Turning back to me, he says, “Man, you really are a grown-up. Look at you!” He leans back in the booth and smiles, a broad, genuine smile that warms me all over.

But the limoncello does me in. I decide I need to stop in the ladies’ room before we get on the subway. I rise from our booth, flushed and giggling, swaying a bit from the booze. He takes it in stride, amused by my buzz.

“Do you need help getting to the restroom?” David volunteers. I remember then that the restrooms are in the basement of the restaurant, and for a crazy moment, I almost say yes to him. If I could just get him downstairs in private, I could kiss him and touch him and start to strip off his clothes…

Instead, I shrug off his assistance and carefully make my way to the ladies’ room unchaperoned. Once inside, I catch a glimpse of my own reflection in the ornate mirror over the rococo-style sink and vanity and waggle my finger at her, saying, “Be good!”

Then I crack up laughing. This evening seems like surreal, like something out of a movie to me, as though I’m watching it unfold on a big screen.