scratch

As she walked in, N was seated at a corner table, tapping his damp coaster with his index finger and staring out into the middle distance. He also occasionally rubbed his lips with the finger, thinking of French New Wave cinema.

His thought straying towards the Madison from Bande part, he thought of their last kiss. A brush of the lips in warm affection, he made a note to make sure that if the same happened, she caught his bottom lip – the upper one felt uncomfortably chafed.

She sat.

I tried calling you.

I know. I didn’t pick up.

Why not?

Well, we’d already made this appointment. So I figured that if you wanted to cancel on me, I’d put you through either the inconvenience of coming over to tell me in person, or the guilt of knowing you stood me up.

You’re a.. you’re twisted, you know that?

N grinned; so did she. She leaned over and kissed him in greeting. He was glad he’d made the earlier note.

You ever notice how we have cold opens?

Huh?

It’s a television thing.. like SNL. We never actually say hello at the beginning. There has to be a little.. play.

Are you complaining?

Not particularly, no. Hm, no. Just saying. Oh.. I like your dress.

Shut up.

No, really, I do. It’s a really.. nice.. dress. That’s it. I’m not going to say anything else about it.

But you want to, don’t you?

Well.

Well?

Welll.. No. No, no.

…

No.

…

Ok. It’s.. nothing actually. It’s nothing..

He’d inadvertently caught the waiter’s eye. Sniffing blood, the waiter made a beeline for the table, navigating through the minefield of diners with a menacing urgency that had a Don’t-Fuck-With-My-Progress air usually reserved for drag-racing ambulances.

May I take your order?

Two coffees please. She smiled at the waiter, but wasn’t sure if he’d caught it.

Meanwhile, distracted, N was tapping out a rhythm on the table that neither had a tune nor was metronomic. She found it mutely dissonant. He caught the twitch of disregard on her face and stopped.

So.

So..

You were saying?

I’ve forgotten.

No you haven’t. Out with it. What about the dress?

I’m just.. thinking about it. You know. Don’t take it the wrong way, and don’t think.. anything of it. It’s just an observation, yeah? But. It’s a really nice dress. It is. Very sexy too, if you don’t mind me saying. But you’re wearing a tee shirt underneath it.

Now for a dress that strappy to have a tee shirt hide what it wants to show means something. You haven’t shaved your armpits. How do I know? If you haven’t shaved your armpits, you, with your skin tone, really shouldn’t be waving from across the room while wearing a tee with a sleeve that ends over there. A little palm wave would have sufficed.

I’ll keep that in mind the next time I try to be enthusiastic about seeing you.

They both smiled. She fingered the napkin laid out on the table. He leaned forward, looking intently at a spot on a fake flower while idly fiddling at some growth under his chin. The coffee arrived.

--

I hate making up names.