The waitress seats us by the window and gives us the specials. Theo orders a bacon avocado cheeseburger with fries and iced tea.
“Have you decided, ma’am?”
“Do you have spring water in a glass bottle?”
“Sorry, just tap.”
I nod. “Fine. I’ll do that, no ice, and several lemon wedges.”
“Food.” Theo glares at me with narrowed eyes. “Order food.”
“I’m on a cleanse.” I smile. “It’s good to give your body a break from constant digesting.”
“She’ll have what I’m having.”
“I don’t eat meat anymore.” I keep smiling at him. “I think meat is too acidic for my body.”
He sighs. “Grilled cheese for her.”
“Or dairy.” I cringe. “It’s too acidic too. I read that our bodies have to rob calcium from our bones to neutralize the acidity. It’s crazy how milk is touted for helping build strong bones when really—”
His jaw tenses.
I bite my tongue and shrug. “Sorry. I’m… sure you don’t really care.”
The waitress clears her throat. “I can get you a garden salad, no meat or cheese.”
“She’ll take it.” He continues to glare at me.
“Ranch, French, Italian, Caesar, or Balsamic dressing?”
“No dressing… just bring extra lemon.” I hand her my menu.
Theo focuses out the window. His jaw remains clenched. “You look like shit.”
I laugh. “Why thank you. Day. Made.”
“If I find you passed out,whenI find you passed out, I’m not calling for an ambulance. If you want to kill yourself, a gun would be a helluva lot easier.”
“You think I want to die?”
He looks at me, expressionless.
“Fair enough.” I shrug. “But for the record, if I find you passed out, I will call for an ambulance, check for a pulse, and administer CPR if necessary.”
“And if I put a bullet in my head?”
The waitress serves our drinks. I squeeze my lemon wedges into my water. “Would you? Would you put a bullet in your brain?”
He takes a swig of his iced tea then licks his lips. “If I wanted to die, yes, I’d put a bullet in my head.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t just swim with the sharks every morning knowing that statistically one day you’ll be breakfast?”
He grunts. As usual, my words only aggravate him more.
“Do you own a gun?”
“Why?” He strokes his beard while shooting me a beady-eyed glare.
