7. Eric #2
I don’t think about what I do next. Rounding the partition, I find Rebecca sitting at a small table, facing me.
Her eyes catch mine immediately. Rebecca’s mother turns to see what she’s looking at, and when she spots me, her frozen face breaks out into the broadest grin that her Botox will allow her.
“Well, Mr. Stone,” she says, her news anchor voice growing even louder in volume. “What a surprise to bump into you here!”
I take a step forward, giving her a firm shake of the hand.
“Not a surprise,” I reply without thinking. “Didn’t Rebecca tell you? She asked me to join you today.”
Her mother looks back at Rebecca, who is turning bright pink, her shoulders stiff. I drape an arm around her and look back at her mom.
“I felt it would be good to formally introduce myself,” I clarify. “Or, re-introduce myself. You see, your daughter and I are dating.”
The woman looks from me to Rebecca.
“Is this true?” she asks, her Cheshire grin still frozen in place. “Mr. Stone and you? Dating?”
I pull Rebecca towards me, giving her a kiss on her forehead.
“Wow,” her mother says. “She never mentioned it to me. How long has this been going on?”
“A few months,” I answer, and I sense Rebecca glancing up at me in my periphery. “I apologize for the secrecy…we wanted to take the introductions slowly, considering our professional relationship. We know once the news is out, the office gossip will follow.”
Rebecca’s mother nods.
“Totally understand. Well, I’m so sorry we ate without you,” she says, gesturing to the table of dirty dishes between us. “If I’d known you were coming…”
“It’s fine,” I say, rubbing my hand up and down Rebecca’s back. “I got caught up with work this morning and lost track of time.”
I look down at Rebecca.
“Sorry, honey,” I say mechanically.
She glares at me, her body stiff.
“Oh, Rebecca don’t hold it against the poor man,” her mother chirps from across the table. “He runs a multi-billion dollar business after all! That’s the price that you pay for dating an ambitious man.”
Rebecca turns her glare to her mother now, only she doesn’t seem to notice her daughter’s expression.
“Well, I’d love to stay and chat,” her mother says, glancing at her watch. “But I have a hair appointment in half an hour.”
She brushes her fingertips over her fluffy white-blonde hair.
“Another time,” I say to her, shaking her hand again. “Great to meet you.”
“Great to meet you,” she replies. She looks at Rebecca. “You take good care of this man, you understand?”
“Oh, I will!” she says icily, still glaring at me.
Her mother walks away. When she’s out of view, Rebecca pushes off of me and stands up, throwing her napkin on the table.
“What the hell was that?” she asks. “Why are you here? Did you…did you follow me here or something?”
“I didn’t follow you,” I reply. “I’m here for lunch. It’s just a coincidence. But then I heard your mom talking and -”
“And decided you’d force my hand?” she asks. “Decided you’d tell my mom we’re dating and that I’d just…what? Go along with your lie? For the rest of my life? ”
I blink at her.
“I don’t understand what you mean,” I frown. “What do you mean, for the rest of your life?”
“I think you know what I mean,” she says, her hands on my hips. “You think if you lie to my mom, I’ll be forced to go along with the lie and take it as far as it’ll go. Get married. Have children. Just…live my whole life out as a lie all because you dropped in and told my mom a bunch of stories?”
“That wasn’t my plan at all, Rebecca. That’s crazy.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes you do crazy stuff,” she says. “I know you. And I also know that you like to get your way, like to be in control.”
“So you think I’m trying to force you to marry me,” I say. “You really believe I’d do that?”
“I don’t know,” she sighs. “I never understand what the hell you’re thinking, Eric. Never have, never will. But you just told my mom a lie and now I’m going to have to deal with the aftermath. What am I supposed to say to her next time she asks about you?”
“Tell her that we broke up,” I shrug.
She groans, sitting back down in her chair and putting her head in her hands.
“I’m trying to help,” I say to her. “Last night you told me that if you don’t find a boyfriend to take to your sister’s wedding, you’ll never live it down.”
“Last night,” she moans. “Last night I said a lot of stuff, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” I answer honestly.
She sits up and looks at me. The rims of her eyes are red, like she’s about to start crying. But instead, she starts to laugh.
“What are you laughing about?” I ask her flatly.
“Just…this is so…”
She gestures towards me and begins laughing even harder.
I glance at the table in front of us, the half empty wine glass in the center of it.
“Have you been drinking again?” I ask, picking up the glass and sniffing it.
“Oh for the love of god,” she says, her laughter dying down. “You really think I’d forget a lesson like that so soon? I still have a headache from last night’s hell. That’s my mom’s drink, not mine.”
I put it back down on the table and then look at Rebecca.
“Last night you said your sister is getting married next weekend,” I say. “Is that accurate?”
“Yes,” she says. “I’m the Maid of Honor.
The whole bridal party is wearing watermelon pink.
But in case you’re concerned that people won’t be able to tell us apart, don’t worry.
My sister’s taken care of that. Not only am I the fattest woman in the bridal party, I also have the unique privilege of getting to wear a matching feathered hairpiece. So I’ll definitely stand out.”
“You’d stand out anywhere, Rebecca,” I reply. “You’re beautiful.”
“Ha. That’s very flattering, Eric.”
“I don’t do flattery,” I say. “You know this. I’m telling you the truth. You are unusually beautiful.”
Rebecca watches me.
“You…you confuse me, Eric,” she admits.
“I confuse everyone,” I reply quietly. “Story of my life. I’m an asshole.”
“You’re not an asshole.”
“Now you’re lying to me,” I say.
“Okay, you’re sort of an asshole,” Rebecca shrugs and smiles. “But it’s…it’s never on purpose. You know? You’re an asshole by accident. Which is kind of the same thing as not being an asshole at all. Because assholes are the way that they are on purpose. You’re just…oblivious.”
I look away from her.
“You might get on my last nerve,” she continues, reaching for my hand. “But I’m learning that you’re also incredibly sweet. In your own misunderstood kind of way.”
“Sweet enough for you to reconsider my proposal this morning?” I ask her.
She frowns, shaking her head.
“No,” she says. “Sorry. But I’m still holding out for true love.”
“I understand,” I reply.
Because I do. I understand that she wants more than an arrangement. That to most, marriage is going to mean more than a mutually beneficial transaction.
“But…” she continues. “Since you’ve gotten me into a bit of a situation now with this lie you told my mom…I wouldn’t say no to a wedding date,” she says. “Are you free next weekend?”