Black Dress Wedding

Chapter 11

I dreaded Thursdays with Jake. The first two weeks were stifling and painful. The little conversation we had was forced. I kept getting the I'm-sorry-you're-on-a-blind-date-from-hell looks from our waitress. The tension settled in my stomach and made me pick at my food, making both evenings entirely useless in all regards.

The Wednesday before our third dinner, I called. I expected the leave a voicemail. Given our disconnect, why would he answer?

"Hey, Nif, everything ok?" There was genuine concern in his voice.

I realized this was the first time I had called Jake Miller in over two years, and it was to cancel plans.

"Yeah, everything is great. Getting ready to head home for the 4th. I wanted to check if we were still on for tomorrow."

"Of course, why wouldn't we?"

"I just didn't know if you had plans for the holiday that you needed to get ready for."

"No, I stay in the city; the smell of garbage juice soothes me."

"Oh, ok. Well, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you then." And he hung up.

For a moment, the silence lingered in my ear as again the sheer ineffectiveness of me in even virtual proximity of Jake set in. I sighed, threw my phone down, and continued to pack.

"Hey," there was a surprising eagerness to Jake's voice as he popped up from the table in a crowded restaurant to greet me the following evening.

"Hey," I said with more than a bit of confusion in my voice.

Jake pulled me into a hug. This was markedly different from all our other meals. Then he pushed away softly and pulled my chair out for me.

"What's going on?" I asked as I settled in.

"You wanted to cancel yesterday; that's why you called." It wasn't a question, it was an observation, and as he spoke, he brushed his hair out of his face, so his eyes were unshielded.

"True," I admitted.

"Why?"

"Jake, these dinners have sucked. We barely talk, and then I get all nervous and can't eat."

"So, you do eat! I thought you might have turned into one of those girls that refuse to eat around guys or worse, at all." He shook his head to himself.

"Oh, I eat; you know I eat. I mostly eat like a twelve-year-old boy, but that's partly because I'm poor, and this city is so damn expensive. All I can afford is ramen and dollar slices."

Jake let out a laugh at my rant.

"Seriously, I can't even afford a hot dog. They sell them for like $8; eight fucking dollars. What are they putting gold in the mustard?"

He laughed again, "I think the mustard is extra."

"Of course it is. Seriously, I am not sure what you see in this place."

"Oh, not this again. You have to admit; the city has energy. It's alive. And, you can get that hot dog at 7 am if you wanted.

"I disagree. Trees are alive, and birds are alive; concrete is not alive. And who wants a hot dog at 7 am?"

"You do," he teased.

I sighed, he was right, and he knew it. "I still like the lake better."

He scowled at me and sat back hard in his chair.

"Why do you hate the lake so much?"

"I don't hate the lake, Nif. It's just not the perfect place you always make it out to be. It's dusty and boring, and everything is covered in pitch. I hate pitch."