Getting to Know Each Other

As if on cue, a young man dressed as a waiter walks in through one of the adjoining double doors to the dining room. As I initially guessed, those doors lead to the kitchen.

The waiter-looking guy places a pamphlet in front of me and another one in front of Sam, and then he steps back as if to wait for our feedback.

“Thank you, Austin,” says Sam to the guy. “Here’s our menu, Eunice. You can go ahead and order what you’d like to eat.”

“A menu?” I ask, amused. “Isn’t this your home?”

“It is,” he replies with a smile. “I don’t know if you and I have the same taste in food, so I think it’s only fair that you get to choose what you’ll enjoy eating.”

“Wow, that’s grand,” I say with genuine awe.

Rich people are weird. They get catered to by professional chefs and waiters, and then they even have extensive menus to choose from. How extravagant!

“Well, to be honest, I don’t do this every day,” he admits. “I hardly eat at home anyway, but today is a special occasion, and that’s why I had to get all the kitchen staff involved.”

“Wow,” I say again before giving my attention to the menu in front of me.

Some of the meals listed on the pamphlet are unfamiliar to me, so I choose the one I know for sure – fried rice with grilled chicken. The side dish comprises stuffed spring rolls with prawn crackers and sweet chili sauce.

For my appetizer, I opt for mini tacos with coleslaw fillings, and my dessert is a slice of red velvet cake with butterscotch cream icing.

Sam orders crisp-fried calamari with a green salad, veal chops with wilted lettuce in a garlic parmesan sauce, and a slice of cheesecake for dessert.

I feel a little embarrassed that my choice of meals looks so basic compared to his. Maybe I should have taken the risk of ordering something equally fancy. Even if it ends up tasting like sawdust, it would still make me look more sophisticated to him, right?

“Which wine would you prefer, sir?” Austin, the waiter, asks Sam.

“Eunice?” He says with a raised eyebrow, waiting for my response.

Oh, Gosh! This is so hard. I rarely drink wine, so how am I supposed to know which one to choose now?

“Uh, a white wine,” I say hesitantly.

“Do you have a specific brand in mind, ma’am?” Austin asks me politely.

My goodness! Who knew a lunch date could be this stressful?

“Um, the Four Cousins?” I respond uncertainly.

That’s the only brand that comes to my mind because I remember that Walter once gifted his colleague that wine when she got promoted. Wait, that colleague eventually turned out to be his mistress.

Sigh!

“You know what, let Sam choose,” I say quickly. “I’m not exactly a huge fan of that wine, but that’s the only brand I can remember right now.”

Sam nods. “We’ll have a Sauvignon Blanc, Austin,” he says smoothly. “Trust me, you’ll love it,” he tells me confidently.

Austin gives a curt nod and returns to the kitchen with our menus. I sigh in relief, happy to have that task over and done with.

“Your place is really beautiful,” I tell Sam. Might as well start some small talk before our drink arrives.

“Thank you. As beautiful as it is, I hardly live in it,” he replies.

“Why? If this were my house, I’d probably never step out of it,” I laugh. “It’s like a huge, fancy bubble.”

“I like that description. After our meal, I’ll take you on a grand tour around my fancy bubble.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” I say, genuinely excited. “So where do you spend most of your time if you’re not always here?”

“I have another place in Los Angeles. It’s more urban and compact than this one. Plus, I’m always traveling on business, so everywhere I go is my home.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Most times, it is.”

“I always wonder what it would be like to be able to travel around the world and see all the beautiful places that I’ve only seen on TV.”

“You’ve never traveled out of the U.S.?” He asks with a look of surprise.

Oh crap!

“Uh, yeah. I’ve never really had enough time to take a proper vacation,” I add quickly.

“We should do something about that,” he says seriously.

Austin returns with our wine, preventing me from asking Sam what he meant by what he’d just said.

“Your first course will be served in five minutes,” Austin informs us before leaving again.

“So, Eunice,” Sam begins. “Would you like to tell me about yourself?”

I take a sip of wine and silently marvel at how the rich-tasting liquid glides down my throat, making me feel like I am drinking gold.

“Lovely,” I murmur to myself.

“What’s that?” Sam asks.

“The wine. It’s lovely.”

Sam smiles indulgently. “I’m glad you like it.”

I’m not much of a drinker, so that little sip of wine already has me feeling like a butterfly, floating up to the ceiling. I take another sip, and it sets my tongue loose.

“So… about me,” I sigh dramatically. “I’m a newly divorced mom of 8-year-old twin girls.”

“Oh…”

“Yup. I’m the woman who literally got screwed over by her wicked ex-husband. He cleaned out our joint bank account, ran off with his mistress, and had the nerve to send his family after me to take my children away.”

“What?”

“That’s right. Thanks to my friends and a fantastic lawyer, I now have full custody of my children, and I’m starting my life over again.”

“Wow… That’s a lot. So, how are you coping?”

“With what?”

“Your children. Meanwhile, can I just say that you don’t look like a mom of two at all? You look amazing!”

I’m flattered. “Thank you, but do you mean I look good for a mum of two, or I simply look good?”

“Honestly, both.”

“Ok,” I laugh delightedly. “I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, back to my question. How have you been coping with your kids?”

“I have my business, and it’s doing well, so we’re good,” I say defensively.

I don’t want him to think that I’m struggling and then feel the need to offer me a handout. That’s not what this lunch date is about.

“That’s impressive,” Sam says with sincerity. “Is he in contact with you and your children?”

“Nope, and I like it that way. We’re all better off without him, and that includes you.”

Sam laughs. “I like your sense of humor.”

“That makes two of us.”

“How old are your children again?”

“Eight.”

“Are they identical?”

“Nah. Fraternal. Two adorable versions of me.”

“Interesting,” Sam says thoughtfully. “I still can't wrap my head around the fact that you have 8-year-old kids. Were you a child bride?”

I giggle. “Do I look that young?”

“You don’t look old either.”

“Glad to hear it.”

He laughs again. I love the sound of it. Each time he smiles or laughs, I feel a zap of desire race through my veins.

Maybe it’s the wine… or maybe I’m just being a little too extra. But who cares?