Sometimes you talk about her like she's still here, 'oh, she would love this book.' And 'that's her favorite dessert.' Like your past with her isn't quite in the past. I try my hardest to let it go, but to me it's just more evidence that I can't measure up to her in your eyes. How am I supposed to compete with a ghost?
.
.
.
I stare at my phone, thumb hovering over the send button. I feel like such a pansy; the worst that could happen would be you saying no, but considering the fact that you gave me your number without me even asking for it, a no isn't likely. I cancel the call, tossing my phone onto the coffee table, raking my hands through my hair, and grab a drink from the kitchen. I come back, sipping my water, and stare at the phone. Why is this so hard? It's Friday afternoon, she's most likely working, just leave a message.
"Suck it up, Evans." I mutter at myself; hopping over the back of the couch, I snatch up my phone. I redial and hit send before I can think about it, but when you pick up after the third ring I go cold. I didn't think about what I was going to say.
"Hello?" Uh-oh. "...Anyone there?" I can't talk. I can't put together any coherent thoughts. What's happening to me? Click. Wonderful, you hung up.
I dial again. You pick up after one ring this time,
"Okay, who is this? If it's a prank-"
"No, it's not. Sorry. I uh... Got distracted..."
"Who... Evans? Did you actually call me?" I can hear that you're smiling, which almost puts me at ease,
"Maybe... I thought you might be working..."
"So you were trying to dodge actually talking to me? Or you were trying to get me in trouble?"
"Oh, no, I didn't want to get you in trouble-" you giggle, which makes me smile,
"Well good, today's my day off anyway, what's up?"
"Well, I'm actually calling to complain about my service."
"Oh really? What seems to be unsatisfactory about your service, sir?"
"Should I be talking to a manager about this?" I tease,
"Sure thing... What seems to be unsatisfactory about your service, sir?" I hear you snort,
"You're the manager, huh?"
"Have I impressed you yet?"
"More than you know." I laugh.
"So what's wrong with how I run the shop? Too friendly? Too clean? Ah, too healthy, right?"
"Actually, your staff is kinda pushy, and they got my order wrong. I'm pretty sure I didn't ask for these chips. In fact I was quite adamant that I didn't want them." I try to sound stern, I really do, but you laugh at me anyway,
"Yeah, well you didn't ask for the number on the bag either, but here we are."
"I thought the customer is always right?"
"The customer always thinks they're right." You huff, "trust me, a month in customer service and you'll see how crazy people get over the dumbest things..."
"Like a bag of chips?"
"Is this you being crazy? 'Cause I can live with it." We crack jokes at each other and chuckle a little while longer, I've almost forgotten the real reason I called, "So then, how would you like me to fix this grave mistake, sir?"
Okay, take a breath, say it before you can think.
"Would you be hungry for dinner?" Wait... Maybe you should have thought about it a little bit. "I mean... Would you be interested -"
"In being hungry?" I can hear the teasing in your voice,
"No I mean, do you eat dinner... No wait..."
"I do normally eat dinner..." your voice is strained with stifled laughter, and my face gets hotter by the second,
"No," I sigh, dropping my head into my hands,
"Spit it out, Evans." You say quietly, almost to yourself, and I can tell you're enjoying this too much,
"I'm trying to ask if you would you like to have dinner with me."
"Oh! Why didn't you just say so?" I sit shaking my head, waiting for a real answer,
"Well?" I ask after a long silence.
"Well, what?" You giggle, still teasing me.
"Don't make me try to say that again." I groan. My face is burning, what I intended to be a smooth request for a date has turned into a clumsy nightmare, and I almost want you to reject me just so I can hang up.
"Of course I want to have dinner with you. I gave you my number, stupid." I can't keep myself from smiling, relief cancelling out some of the awkwardness,
"Great, I know this great sandwich shop nearby. The staff is mostly friendly, but they may purposely get your order wrong."
"...Very funny." The dryness in your voice makes me laugh,
"Seriously, though. Saturday night, text me your address and I'll pick you up at 7." I finally get a soft sigh out of you,
"Sounds perfect."
