Page 42 of Expressionate
Her jaw drops. "What do youmean?"
"The guys and I are going to a party," I say, "big get together. Couple of other bands from the area are gonna be there. It's a good networking op they like to say, but really, it's just a bunch of old friends from the area getting together. I want you tocome."
Love slowly sets her chopsticks down. "A party? I'm notsure..."
I drop my own chopsticks and reach across the table, snagging one of her hands. She looks at me. "Please?"
"If I want to leave will you promise to take me home?" she asksquietly.
Soothingly, I rub my thumb over the top of her hand. "All you have to do is say the word." It's a promise I'm more than willing to make. After that night in the university gardens, under the waterfalls, I can't help but get the feeling that this girl could ask me to jump off a bridge into a pit of fire and if it would make her happy, I'd doit.
Love jumps as her cell phone goes off and she nods quickly before pulling away to answer it. The ringtone cuts off suddenly and then a follow-up ping sounds. She looks down at her screen and whatever she sees makes her mouth tighten until the corner of her lips turn purposefully downward. "Okay," she says suddenly, tucking her phone back into her pocket. "I'll go to the party, when isit?"
I give her thedate.
She sighs, shoulders drooping as if she expected – or had hoped for a different answer. "Yeah," she says, "that'sfine."
I don't like the feeling that I've disappointed her somehow, but as we get back to finishing our lunch, I let the time drag and I don't sayanything.
13
Love
Ifeel foolish – like I'm trying too hard to erase the actions of my past. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I turn this way and that, trying to decipher any bad angle, any flaw that Anne could see. I don't know how I let Trisha rope me into the lunch meeting. I knew it had been vain to hope that Tax's party would coincide on the same day that Anne would be in town. Even if the party wasn't until later, I could claim – at least to Trisha – that I would be preparing for it or something. In reality, I could come up with a slew of reasons and excuses not to meet with Anne and Trisha today, but I haven’t. It’s better to get this over with sooner rather than later. Anne will eventually get what she wants anyway, she alwaysdoes.
I sigh and finally drop the skirt of my dress that I had been inspecting for minor errs during the last several minutes. I was really just stalling. It’s time togo.
Grabbing my phone, purse, and keys, I head for the front door just as Beverly is stumbling out of her bedroom. She moves by me slowly, not even acknowledging my presence. She stinks of beer and something else that I can't quite muster up the courage to try and decipher. How she manages to pay her bills when she drinks and parties like she’ll die if she stops, I'll never know. I'm not going to ask any questions as long as the bill payments aren't affected by her lifestyle,though.
The door to Tax's apartment remains closed as I walk by. Not that I had expected it to open and for him to appear like magic, but it might have been...nice to see him before I have lunch with theDevil.
When I reach the steakhouse that Trisha had given me the address to, I’m more than a little nervous. My palms are damp with sweat and the fabric of my dress clings to my skin. I hurriedly reach into my glove compartment and take out a travel deodorant stick. Anything might set Anne off. I don't know what could do it – whatwilldo it. Because something inevitablywill.
The host takes my name and leads me back towards a series of small four-person tables with white tablecloths, and a single, colorless, artificial flower as their centerpieces. Only two women are anywhere in the vicinity and they're both sitting at the very table we're heading for. Despite my earlier efforts, my hands begin to sweat again as I draw closer. Trish sees me and stands. Anne remains seated, her back ramrod straight, her face impassive – not revealing one single ounce ofemotion.
I quietly thank the host for seeing me to the table and I take a seat across from Anne – on Trisha's other side – and quickly lift the menu to block my face. I take several moments to myself even as I catch Trish's side gaze a couple of times as she attempts to get me to lower my menu with her facial expressions. Subtly as I can, I refuse, shaking my headslightly.
Our waitress comes all too soon. Thankfully she begins with Anne, who orders a salad with fresh fruit and light dressing. Trisha orders a chicken and steak kebab combo and I order a small bowl of chicken tortilla soup and a side salad. The waitress takes our menus, effectively destroying the physical barrier I've created between Anne and me, but I quickly school my expression and keep my gaze downcast for a few moments before finally lifting myhead.
"So, Love," Anne is the first to speak, "Trisha tells me that you're staying in the area. With a roommate, isit?"
A person doesn't just chance a look at Anne. They match her gaze and they hold it or they aren't worthy. So, when I look up and meet her eyes, I don't blink or flinch. "That's right," I answer. I'm pleasantly and proudly surprised by the steadiness in mytone.
Now that I'm looking, I manage to examine her face without taking my eyes away from hers. The lines on her face are slightly more pronounced, but other than a slight sagging in her jowls, the grayness in her once straw blonde hair, she looks fairly the same as she did yearsago.
"I see." Anne folds her hands across her lappolitely.
Trisha looks between us, her eyes bouncing rapidly. When Anne does decide to release me from her gaze, I blink quickly to alleviate some of the dryness in my eyes, and then I glance at my sister. Trish looks strained, almost panicked and I don’t know why. Am I missing something? Is there something on my face? In my teeth? I haven’t eaten yettoday.
Anne purses her lips and then pushes her chair back. “I’ll return,” she says as Trish and I look up at her. She doesn’t give an explanation for her departure, but makes her way to the back of the restaurant where a strategically placed bathroom sign is nearly hidden from the primary restauranthub.
I decide to take advantage of my brief alone time with Trish. “We have to talk about Lawrence,” Isay.
Trish goes from somewhat panicked to full on, eyes-wide, hands shaking anxiety. “Not here,” she hisses. “Notnow.”
“If not here, then where? If not now, then when?” I know if I let her, she’ll simply keep brushing me off and we’ll never talk aboutit.
“Please, Love,sheishere.”
