“Ha! The driving. Wrong side of the car and the road. Almost wrecked for a whole year. Now I can’t drive when I go home.”
Sitting next to one another, I felt the heat crackle inside the sliver of space between our outer thighs. “I bet you did. I don’t think I could do it.”
“Also, the heat. Especially here.”
“I had a hard time too. I’m from Michigan, so the blue skies and unlimited sunshine of the desert were a draw, but my skin said otherwise. Took a while to get used to the lack of humidity and constant sun.”
“Do your parents visit?”
I started to open my mouth but was interrupted by Jon appearing with a bottle of red wine. He and Daniel did the wholeopening, sniffing, tasting song and dance before he poured us both a glass.
“Have you made your selections?”
“We haven’t even looked,” Daniel admitted. “Give us a second.”
Jon nodded and was off. We had a quick conversation, agreeing on the chopped salad for two and the mashed potatoes to share. Daniel wanted a strip steak, and I wanted a filet.
There was another motioning for Jon, the order placed, and Daniel stated, “To us,” with his glass in the air. We each took a sip of the wine, and he asked again, “Your parents?”
“Not much. Dad’s a doctor, married to his practice. OB/GYN.” I spelled out the letters affirmatively like he would. “My mom is, was, a big-time feminist, but stayed in a low-level journalism job in Detroit because my dad kept her down. She does the newsletter and blog for his website, when she could be writing for theTimes. My dad doesn’t like to leave, and my mom is usually too stressed to go anywhere.”
He shook his head. “That’s too bad. I guess her hope is all wrapped up in you doing what she couldn’t?”
“Bingo!”
His hand came to rest on my knee, the heat of his palm sinking through my jeans, warming me in places that had been dormant for a long while.
“And my dad wanted a son. Like Sella’s dad. So, I’m his only hope of another doctor even though he thinks I need a less grueling specialty than his.”
Between the wine and Daniel drawing figure eights on my knee with his thumb, I was feeling dizzy. The physical sensations combined with us discussing feelings were all too much.
“I’m pretty sure you can do whatever specialty you want. Even veterinary medicine. They’re doctors too, you know?”
“It’s a lost cause. Now, tell me more about you.”
Our salad arrived and Jon served each of us a heaping portion. In between bites, Daniel spoke, his accent occasionally ringing through and taking my breath away, especially when he spoke about his mom.
“She’s a good mum. I don’t mean she doesn’t have a career or a life, but being a mum has been her best accomplishment. She loves me. She’s a floral designer, has her own shop. My dad’s in finance.”
“Wow, what a cool combo. And sister? Brother?”
“One sister. She’s married. She and her husband have a wee little guy, August is his name. Doreen’s eight years older than me. I was a happy oops, I guess.”
Wild—we both had pressure, but Daniel’s felt seated in happiness and mine wasn’t.
Luckily, once the server brought out entrées, straight through the peanut butter pie we shared, we stuck to funny and light conversation.
“…Brutus was bullshit. Paced all night, whining for me to keep taking him out…”
Daniel laughed through his story as I took a bite of the pie. He stopped talking, watching me swallow—the tension between the two of us was a living, breathing thing.
“Poor guy,” I said, frowning.
“He’s the one who ate the garbage.”
“He’s a dog.”
“A smart one…he never did it again.”
