Fingertips

Dinner

"I guess this is our first date, Bee," he suddenly blurted out, staring at the sky.

"W-what?" I asked, surprised.

"It's our first date," he stated calmly, finally making eye contact with me.

"What do you mean?" I asked, taken aback.

"I don't mean it like that. Dates don't always have to be romantic," he explained.

"Then what kind of date is ours considered," I asked, curious as to how he would explain this.

"It's a friendly dinner date. I would describe it as two acquaintances having dinner together and leaving as friends," he explained, smiling at me.

"I agree. I can get to know Bubba," I teased, kneeling down to pet the sitting dog. He frowned and pouted at my statement. 

"I'm kidding. I'm excited to get to know the mighty Maverick," I said, playfully hitting his shoulder.

"Ouch, Bee. That hurt," he joked. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms.

"I think I'd rather spend the night with Bubba," I said. He held a hand up to his chest in a dramatic motion and gasped.

"I'm hurt," he replied. 

We laughed at his remarks. The waitress came by and led us to a table with a single lantern in the middle and some plates and silverware set up. The waitress set down two menus for us and brought a water bowl for Bubba. 

After 30 minutes of contemplating if I should get pasta or soup, I decided to get some pasta. Maverick always looked so disappointed whenever I said I decided on one thing, but would decide to get the other thing instead. 

"Just choose already! I'm so hungry! Please!" He begged. I heard Bubba whimper from under the table, and I assumed he was hungry too. 

"Ok! Fine!" I exclaimed.

He smiled when he finally called the waitress over, who looked equally relieved herself. 

"What will you two be having today?" She asked, looking at us. Maverick told me to place my order first, and after, he placed an order for Bubba from the dog's menu and lastly, placed an order for himself.

"I'll have a turkey sandwich with some extra cheese, a caesar salad, a small plate of your garlic butter shrimp pasta, and a side of clam chowder. That'll be all, thank you," he said, finally closing his menu.

As the waitress grabbed our menus and left to get our waters, I glanced at Maverick and said, "That'll be all? You ordered enough food to take home and feed your family."

"Don't judge," was all he said.

_______

The waitress finally came to our table and place down all the food we ordered. Maverick hurriedly placed his napkin on his lap and began devouring his salad. Bubba was scarfing down his special "doggy dinner" as the restaurant called it, and seemed to be enjoying it. 

I picked up my fork and twirled the pasta around and around. I couldn't stop twirling the pasta. I was doing anything I possibly could to avoid eating it. I really wasn't hungry. To be completely honest, I don't think I've eaten much since Raven left for Massachusetts. Whenever I was supposed to eat a meal with my parents, I usually came up with some sort of excuse like, I ate a big snack earlier that day, or that I ate a big meal prior, or even simply that I wasn't hungry. 

They usually believed me and told me to remember to eat later instead, but they were both so busy with work that they didn't really get to monitor if I was really eating or not. Now that it was summer, their jobs at their offices got really hectic at the sudden high demand for their newly developed products.

This happened before. I was diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa when I was a freshman in high school. I was so stressed out that I just stopped eating and began worrying about school the entire day. I didn't have any friends to rely on. I was the kid that no one really found worthy of their time. 

And then I met Raven. 

She saw me sitting by myself and didn't hesitate to sit next to me. I guess I started eating again after I finally found someone to use as motivation to get better. The thought of finding a new adventure with her every day motivated me to go to all of the support groups and check ups and slowly start eating again day by day. Now that she's gone, I guess I lost that motivation.

I snapped out of my daydream when Maverick called my name. 

"Phoebe? Are you alright? You've been staring at that pasta on your fork for a while now," he said, a confused look on his face.

"Oh. Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I just got lost in my own thoughts," I lied. 

I took out my phone and checked the time. It was almost nine and yet my parents hadn't called. 

"Maverick," I said, trying to grab his attention. 

He looked up and I noticed that he was nearly done with his food.

"Hm?" He said, his mouth stuffed with pasta.

"I'm sorry to cut this date short, but my parents are so worried. I have so many calls and texts from them, and I really need to get home," I lied.

"Oh, I'll give you a ride home," he said sadly.

"That would be great! Thank you so much!" I replied happily.

_______

As the car engine came alive, I buckled Bubba's special seatbelt harness and sat in the passenger's seat.

I held the container of untouched pasta on my lap and looked out the window.

"Ready?" Maverick asked me. I nodded.

He drove off, and I don't think I uttered a single word that entire car ride home.

I think we went in as acquaintances and left as acquaintances. The thought made me sad.