Seconds: A Short Story

Seconds

The man sat alone in the restaurant at a round table in a nook with a cushioned bench. The place where he had chosen to sit was dimly lit and secluded from the other guests, though many of them still noticed how jittery he was. He could hardly sit still, as if the bench were made of rocks and he couldn't get comfortable. His leg bounced, and it made a taptaptaptap on the floor until he put his hand on his knee and it stopped. 

The man took a comb out of his back pocket and smoothed his hair, which was salt-and-pepper gray but not balding, and put the comb back. The napkin wasn't perfectly straight, so he adjusted it.

"Waiter," he asked, "Could you bring me the wine menu?" His leg started bouncing again.

The man became still when a woman entered the dining area. She was in her mid-forties, with high shoes, in a dress of perfect blue, and she looked around with her purse nervously clutched in front of her as if she were lost. He raised his hand, then thought better of it and stood up instead. She recognized him and approached with her purse still held in front of her.

"Hi," she said.

"Molly, you look fantastic."

She blushed, scoffed, and grinned all at once.

"Come, sit down." He couldn't pull out a chair for her because he'd chosen a bench, but he did stand aside and gesture grandly to her seat.

She said, "Oh, um," and took a small step forward and then backwards, like it was a practice step, before she giggled uncomfortably and scooted into the bench. He sat on the other side and he seemed to be bigger somehow, like his pleasure in seeing her had made him swell in the chest.

"I can't believe you called me," Molly said. She tucked some loose hair behind her ear. It was shoulder-length and layered. One of the smaller locks had fallen on her face. He noticed, but didn't reach up to fix it.

"I got you these," he said, and he presented her with a bouquet bursting with roses from underneath the table.

"Oh! Charles. Thank you. They're lovely. Um..." She turned to one side and then the other, looking for a place to put them. The bouquet was too large for the table.

"Maybe I shouldn't have..." Charles said, and he held his hands out like he was about to take them away, but didn't.

"I don't think you usually give roses in the restaurant," she said.

"I've never done this before."

"Maybe at the house is when you're supposed to do it, when you pick me up? Then I could put them in a vase."

"Right. It's just, I didn't pick you up, so..."

"They're beautiful. I love them."

"Yeah?"

"Of course! I just don't know where to..."

"We can put them back under here." He took back the bouquet. Her fingers held onto the vase a second too long and the two of them pulled against each other. Embarrassed, Molly released the flowers and watched as he put them back under the table and out of her sight. She finally pushed the lock of hair from her face.

When the waiter came to take their orders, Charles announced that they would be having lobster, their finest wine, and two slices of chocolate ganache cake for dessert. "This is a special occasion," he beamed. "It's our first date."

She looked at him and tilted her head to the side.

Charles leaned his forearms against the table and said, "So, tell me about yourself."

"Tell you about myself?"

His phone made a ding! from the table and he glanced at it. Charles frowned.