Continuation...
I enjoy remembering it.
I remember feeling the cracked edges on the sun-aged tablecloth. The ones I avoided while reading the tabloid magazines she had given me. She was a hunchback, short in stature, who over the years didn't lose her sympathetic smile. She had shuffled away from me after taking my food order. the usual, rice and chicken curry with carrots and potatoes, and fried wontons with sweet dipping sauce as an appetizer. The prices were more than reasonable here. The restaurant was small and undiscovered.
Sometimes, my hands would reach up to run through the short stubbles portruding from my head. A week ago, I had walked into a barber shop and asked the stylist to "cut it as short as possible." He graciously accepted the responsibility as he knew some quivering self-discovery lay in the horizon. And the change happened as soon as the first foot length of hair floated down to the linoleum. Light crept in somewhere between the grooves of his hand and my changing reflection in the mirror decorated with cut-outs of Audrey Hepburn, Natalie Woods, and a woman who reminds me of Gene Tierney in "Laura."
And it was that light again that made me look up as he walked in the door. Everytime I dare to remember, he glides in slow motion, blindingly so. I hold a gasp. The handsome man with the button up shirt, clutching a leather messenger bag was an image I remembered so clearly. Maybe the second turned into a minute. I looked down. My heart would betray me, I thought."
How do I finish the story that turned out to be a lie? A lie your heart tells you in the hope that you'll be happy.
But this is what happened after.
He did come in and I thought what would a man like that ever want with a girl like me? A girl with no hair, no spine, and a clear case of insecurity. I didn't know. So I sat there, pretending to read these gossip magazines, hiding the tics of anxiety in my fingers and eyes. Don't move too much April. Minutes heaped atop another filling the gulf between the only two people in that small, suffocating Thai restaurant. I had to end it.
Here's where I have to reconstruct my memory.
Jen texted me about being late. So I had to stay there and wait for either her to show up or for the food to be ready. And of course, the food was ready first. And I think I was glad. Because I sauntered to the front and I decided it was time to perform. This is when I will get the man to talk to me.
Cloaked in humility, dainty movements, and a childlike voice, I apologized to the woman just decibels enough for him to hear. She had called me up with my food ready in styrofoam to go containers, wrapped in a plastic bag, complete with utensils, a napkin, and a lone fortune cookie. I apologized that I had decided to eat there instead and I will help her put my food in plates. I didn't look at him. I tried to grab bowls and she maneuvered around me like I knew she would. She expertly and nimbly pushed me back to my table and there, prepared my food for dining in. She smiled and left.
Did she know?
I think he knew the play was on because he took his cue.
"What'd you get?" He yelled at me from across the room.
Here's where I'm able to look at him.... Yes, beautiful like I thought. In the corner, with a book in his hand, curly hair, and a leg folded up on the chair in front of him. Was he posing? I dared not look at him too long.
"Chicken curry and fried won tons. What'd you get?"
"Orange chicken. I've never had it before. Have you?"
"No I haven't."
"Oh."
Silence.
"Do you live around here?" He continued the conversation.
"No, my friend lives in this neighborhood. I'm waiting for her."
I forget what he says. It's because I can't hear him.
"I can't hear you."
He repeats it.
"I'm sorry I can't hear you. You're too far." Obviously, an invitation.
On the next cue, his to go food is also ready. He goes up to the counter and asks for a plate. I half knew this was coming. I either planned or wished it. He walked towards my table and stood in front of me. "May I join you?" he asked.
"Of course. Would you like some won tons?" I offered.
The woman helps him set up his food and leaves with her knowing smile.
"Would you like some orange chicken?"
We sit content in our meal together. I think we asked each other what we did for a living, and where we hung out, and what each other's names where in between mouthfuls of rice, exclamations of "this is good!", and genuine smiles. He told me of the movies he helped produce and write and acted in. One of which was in a film festival in France or England and he looked so happy about it. His eyes had a quiet, glimmering hope and there was still wonder there that I remembered. And I, having just watched "Enter the Void" under an extraordinary influence, could not help but wave my hands empathetically while explaining to him how wonderful a movie it was. It was also imperative for me to show him the credits that are in the first thirty seconds of it. He explains he was also under an influence while watching the movie and could not remember it too much to understand my enthusiasm. But I think he was convinced it was worth a second viewing upon seeing the beginning credits from youtube on my phone. Embarrassment seized me for a moment.
And then, here's where Jen walks in.
She looks at the boy I had texted a forewarning to her about and smiles at me. (I had also forewarned him that my friend was coming) "Hi," a hint of puzzlement in her voice, "I'm Jen." She reaches her hand to him and he introduces himself as well. She sits down beside me.
The dynamic changes but it is clear that we wish she hadn't come. But we engage her small talk and give side glances to each other. Our conversation wasn't finished. And Jen's coming marked the beginning of the end of this little affair. Because, you see, I had a boyfriend. And romantic meet-cutes like this are not allowed to happen.
The minutes winded down, our checks arrived, and the hurried "I have to leave.. work reasons (true)..." finally came out. And from his leather messenger bag, he took out a small leather notebook. The one with the ribbon bookmark and elastic that wraps it shut. The one that I wished I had. He opened it up and readied a pen.
"April, before you leave, may I get your number?"
Oh my poor heart. I stood there with my breath in my throat for too many seconds and he was about to close his notebook. But I took the pen from him and wrote something else. "I'll give you my e-mail. You should write to me."
I wrote it in graffiti, the way I've always scribbled my name ever since elementary school. He was graceful in accepting this substitute.
I left before him but somehow we saw each other again at the door. Wee both knew that this would probably not happen again.
"It was nice to meet you." I offered.
"It was nice to meet you too," he stared at me. There was no judgement in his eyes.
Then, I got in my car and I watched him walk away.
Do I remember it raining that day? Or was it just a manifestation of my regret?
I forgot to tell you that his real world job was being a bar back at a place called the Hudson in West Hollywood. The Sunday of that week was when they would allow him to bartend. I guess it was sort of a big deal and he invited Jen and I to come. Free drinks, I think, was the hook. To me, his smile was the hook, line, and sinker.
When that Sunday came, on impulse I bought a dress. Would he like it? I bought it and changed into it all after work and went straight to Jen's house to meet some visiting friends from our old college. The plan was to invite everybody to go to his bar. It was perfect, right?
But Jen didn't want to participate in my dalliance that night. And she suggested instead to go to a bar close to her house. And I.. didn't refuse. I knew it was wrong. The thought of it was wrong. I already had somebody. It would be a tragic mistake to ruin that trust. So I chose to forget Joey, the Hudson, and the Thai restaurant.
to be continued...
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