I look at our hands. His thumb strokes the back of mine. It's a gesture that used to make me feel safe. Now it feels fake. And I wonder if it always was and I just didn’t see it. "I want that too," I say.
I want us to be okay. I do. But at this point, my want list is long. I want to stop analyzing every word, every gesture, every moment of silence. I want to relax into this and let it be what it's supposed to be. But I can't.
After dinner, we go to a movie. It’s a comedy. We sit in the back and Asher eats popcorn and laughs at the jokes. I laugh when he does because I know I should. If this were a first date, it wouldn’t lead to a second. It’s just… flat. When we leave the theater, Asher smiles at me. "Great movie," he says.
"Yeah."
"Do you want to get dessert somewhere?"
I'm about to say sure when his phone rings. When he pulls it out of his pocket I see Devon's name on the screen. Of course. "I should take this."
Obviously. I wouldn’t expect anything else. "Okay."
He steps away, phone to his ear. I watch him from across the lobby. His posture changes immediately. His shoulders tense. His free hand goes to the back of his neck. He's talking quietly,but I can hear the tone. Engaged. Worried. He comes back a minute later.
"Devon's having a panic attack," he says. "She says she can't breathe. She's asking me to come home."
I don't say anything. She’s askinghimto come home. Not us. I wonder if he even noticed.
"I'm sorry, Julie. I know this was supposed to be our night, but we need to get home so I can support her."
"Okay."
He doesn’t even notice that I’m serving up monotone responses. Typical. The walk to the car is heavy with a silence I'm starting to recognize. He drives with a frantic edge, faster than he needs to, while I just stare out the passenger window and watch the city lights whiz by.
When we get home, Devon is sitting on the couch in the living room. She's wearing pajamas. Her perfect face is giving sad, but her eyes aren’t red and she looks fine other than the tissue clutched in her hands and the turned down lip.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't want to ruin your night. I just didn't know what else to do."
"Don’t apologize," Asher says as he sits down beside her and places a hand on her shoulder. "Tell me what happened."
She leans into him and starts talking in a low tone. Purposely, I think, so that I can’t hear. That’s my cue to leave. "I'm going to bed," I announce.
Asher looks up. "I'll be up later."
"Okay."
I go upstairs. I brush my teeth. I take off my dress and hang it back in the closet before I put on an old t-shirt and get into bed. I lie there in the dark and wait. Half an hour passes. I hear voices downstairs. Quiet murmurs. I can't make out the words. Eventually I fall asleep.
I wake up when the bed shifts. Asher is climbing in beside me. I don't know what time it is. The room is still dark.
“How is she?” I ask.
“Better. Embarrassed.”
I snicker. “Right.”
He pauses. I swear, even in the dark, I can feel him frown. “She was having a panic attack.”
“I know what she said she was having.”
The tension thickens. “You know what Julie? I’m too fucking tired for this,” he says.
“That makes two of us.”
He sighs heavily before reaching over and laying a hand on my arm. “I know tonight didn’t go how we wanted.”
He says it as if his disappointment and mine are at all comparable. Real talk, I’m not even sure heisdisappointed, so that’s a big issue too.
