10. Lana
CHAPTER 10
LANA
I squinted at my laptop, trying to see with fresh eyes. Was my choice of graphics cute, or corny? I couldn’t tell anymore, I’d been staring so long, getting everything perfect, every detail in place.
“How does this look?” I spun my laptop around. Brad pulled it toward him and frowned at the screen.
“I’d make the fonts bigger. Or, no. Make them bold. How big are we printing these?”
I hadn’t thought about that. I’d thought… paper-sized? My head hurt. My eyes hurt. We’d been at this all day, planning the details of our fun run.
“Maybe ease off the color, except the words ‘fun run.’ You want people to see that first, not, not…” He pulled a weird face, trying not to yawn. The yawn broke through anyway, and he covered it with his hand.
“Tired?”
“No, I’m good. Sorry. What you want is?—”
His phone interrupted with a loud bzzzzt . A name flashed up, Dad . Brad got to his feet. “I’d better take this.”
He hurried down the hall and straight to his room, only taking the call as the door closed behind him. I leaned forward a little, then sat back, embarrassed. I’d been trying to eavesdrop, which wasn’t okay. Brad’s family business was his business, not mine. I dug out my earbuds and stuck them in my ears, mostly so Brad wouldn’t think I’d been listening.
It was a while before he came out, and when he did, he looked tired. He flopped down at the table. I took out my earbuds.
“Everything okay?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Fine.” He leaned back in his chair and frowned out the window. “When’d it get dark out?”
I turned to look, and he was right. The last pink of sunset was fading in the west. I realized I was hungry and let out a groan.
“Whose turn to make dinner?”
Brad massaged his forehead. “Ugh. Mine, I think. Should we just order in?”
I checked my watch. “Hanging Garden stops delivering at eight. At least until next month, when summer hours start.”
“Let’s go somewhere, then. How about Belden’s?”
My mouth watered at the thought of Belden’s pepper steaks. But my wallet cringed at the thought of their prices. “Too expensive,” I sighed.
“Then, it’s my treat.”
I shook my head. “No, I couldn’t. I’ll make mac and cheese.”
Brad slumped in his seat, miming disappointment. “So, you won’t go with me? Even this once? I guess I’ll never know what the hype’s all about.”
“You could go on your own.”
Brad pretended to shudder. “A table for one, with that place full of couples! How sad would that look, like I can’t get a date?”
I stood undecided, one hand on the fridge. Not having to cook did sound quite tempting. And once the summer crowds hit, we’d never get into Belden’s. If Brad wanted to try it, now was his chance.
“We deserve it,” he said. “We’ve been working our butts off. And, check this out. I just got a gig.” He held up his phone to show me an email. I couldn’t read it from where I was standing, but Brad read it for me, a message from Rex. “He wants me to come by and fix up his deck.”
“About time he got round to that. Have you seen his deck?” I snickered at the thought of it, then smiled. “All right.”
“All right, you’ll come? We’re going to Belden’s?”
“Yeah, but just this once. Because I’m so hungry.”
I was too starved to spend much time primping, but I put on my newest dress, a pale blue flowered number. I’d bought it two years ago for Mom’s big 5-0 party, and hadn’t been anywhere nice enough to wear it since. I put my hair up as well, in a loose twist, curls on either side framing my face. By that time, I could hear Brad getting restless, so I slapped on some mascara and some lip gloss, and hoped I looked smart enough for a night out at Belden’s.
Brad half-turned, smiling, as I entered the kitchen. “I checked their menu online. I think I’ll have… Oh.” His lips parted slightly. His eyes went wide. I glanced over my shoulder, but nothing was back there. It hit me, he had to be staring at me.
“What’s the matter?” I patted my hair. It still felt all right.
“Nothing’s the matter. You just, you look great.” He broke into a broad grin. I felt myself redden. “Your hair,” Brad went on. “It suits you that way.”
Belden’s was close, so we walked to get there. I noticed Brad kept checking me out in the windows, pretending to window-shop, but looking at me. At first, when our eyes met, he looked away. Then he got bold, and he winked in the glass. I whirled, caught him grinning, and I grinned back. My face had gone warm, but my step felt light. Brad cocked a brow at me, and I bit back a giggle. I was never like this, all high and giddy. Hungry, was all. Dizzy with starvation.
“You have a thing,” Brad said.
I blinked. “A thing?”
He reached out and plucked something pink from my hair. His knuckles brushed my cheek and a thrill ran through me.
“What—?”
“Cherry blossom,” he said, and held up a flower. “It looked kind of nice, though. Should I put it back?”
Was he flirting with me? Or was he just teasing? Either way it felt reckless, but also… fun? Like a game we were playing just for tonight. Just while we were out like this, with me in this dress.
“You’re supposed to make a wish,” I said.
“Like with the bell?”
“Only you don’t ring it. You let it go. If it floats away, your wish will come true.”
“And if it falls on the ground?”
I made a pouty face. “No wish for you.”
“In that case…” Brad held the blossom up high in the air. He waited till the breeze picked up, ruffling its petals, then let it go. It sailed into the sky. “That’s two wishes for me now. I’m on a roll.”
“But you cheated.”
“How did I cheat?”
“With the bell, it was midnight, but in Singapore. And you waited for the wind to come grab your blossom.”
“That’s not cheating.” Brad drew himself up. “Just… making my own luck. You’ve got to help it along sometimes. Help the planets align.”
“You’d move entire planets? ”
“For you, anything.” Brad did a goofy, exaggerated bow. I burst out laughing, and he laughed as well. We were still kind of chuckling when we walked into Belden’s, and the ma?tre d’ smiled at us and beckoned us over.
“You’re lucky,” he said. “It’s a full house tonight. Hope you like window seats, because you’re our last table.” He led us to a table looking out on the terrace, set back from the main room in a little alcove.
“Cozy,” said Brad. “Nice view. I like it.”
“Your waiter will be right by to take your orders.”
I had a moment of panic when I opened my menu — nothing under twenty dollars, even the soup — but Brad was leafing through his, smiling, relaxed. I guessed Rex was paying him well for his deck job, as well he should be. That deck was a mess. It had been hit by lightning during last summer’s storm, then gnawed by something all through the fall. In winter, when the snow came, the back half collapsed.
“I heard the steak was good here,” he said.
“The pepper steak, yeah.” I felt sad for a moment, then pushed the feeling away. I’d had good times here. Made good memories. “Mom used to bring me here when I got my report cards. We’d always get the pepper steak, because it’s the best thing.”
“So you were a good student?”
I sipped my water. “Mostly. Though, there was one time I failed algebra. I thought the exam was on Friday, but it was Thursday. They F’d me.”
“They wouldn’t let you reschedule?”
I scowled, still salty. “No, the jerks. Said it was a lesson on how the real world works — if you miss a job interview, they don’t let you reschedule. But I missed one in college when we had a snowstorm, and what do you know? Yeah. We rescheduled.” I rolled my eyes and reached for a breadstick. “But the time I failed algebra, Mom still brought me here. She said when it’s good news, the steak’s your reward. When it’s bad news, it’s comfort food. You still need to eat.”
“Your mom sounds smart,” said Brad.
I smiled. “Yeah. The smartest.” And the kindest. The best. I’d never come here without her, and it felt strange. Not wrong-strange, though. In a way, it felt right. “I think we’d be here tonight, if she were still with us. Eating our bad-wiring feelings.”
“I have traditions like that too,” said Brad, looking away. “Things we used to do when my mom was alive. We’d always go round the old folks’ homes each year at Christmas, make sure they got presents, the ones who had no one. I still do that. And I put out a gift for her under the tree.”
“You miss her,” I said.
“I do. This past Christmas was tough. It didn’t feel right, not— Oh! Hello.”
Our waiter had materialized, gliding up out of nowhere. “Have you decided what you’d like to eat?”
We both ordered the pepper steak, and Brad picked a red wine. Our drinks came out first, and I sipped slowly, not wanting the wine to go to my head. The lights were low, mellow, the lampshades rose-tinted. A band had come out, and was playing smooth jazz. We weren’t on a date, but I kept getting date vibes, the way Brad leaned in to listen. The way the light caught his eyes. I let myself fantasize, what if we were? If he slid his hand across the table and our fingers brushed? If I touched his arm and he stiffened, then smiled? If he leaned closer, so close we bumped shoulders, so close my hair tickled his neck? Then out on the midnight street, with the moon overhead?—
I gasped as the waiter set down my plate.
“Sorry. Did I bump you?”
“No!” My neck prickled. I’d yelped out loud, and people were staring. “Just startled,” I said. “I didn’t, uh, see you.”
I gulped wine to compose myself, then drained half my water. Brad raised his brows as the waiter sailed off.
“He is pretty sneaky.”
“I think it’s his shoes.” I stabbed my steak and tried to act normal. “He’s got those crêpe soles.”
“ Creep soles, more like.”
We both laughed at that, and my tension eased off. Brad tried his steak and his eyes drifted shut. He made a low sound, a sigh of enjoyment.
“You’re right. This is great. We should eat every meal here.”
“Then it wouldn’t be special.”
“We could vary it up. Pepper steak one night, lobster the next. And the shrimp salad. That lemon-thyme chicken.”
“You’d need to fix up a lot of decks to eat like that.”
Brad paused mid-bite. “Oh, yeah. I forgot.” He looked embarrassed for a moment, then shook it off. “One day, when we’re rich, huh?”
I snorted. “When we’re rich.”
We toasted to that, and dug into our steaks. When the dessert cart rolled round, we were too full for cake, but we both ordered coffee. Brad sipped his and smiled. He leaned back in his chair and surveyed the room, half-empty now, warm with candlelight. The band was still playing and a few couples were dancing, and Brad nodded at them.
“Should we?”
“What, dance?”
“Why not?”
I could think of a few reasons: this wasn’t a date. I’d already made a fool of myself pretending it was, got so lost in my fantasy that I shrieked at the waiter. Also, it was late. We had early mornings. Brad was due down at Rex’s. I had the shop. I had to clear the shelves out for the electrician, and even with Alice’s help?—
“One dance.” Brad stood. He held out his hand. Without thinking, I took it, and he led me to the dance floor. The band was playing some slow song, wistful, romantic. It made me think of summer, and long, warm nights. Brad set one hand on my hip and one on my shoulder. I leaned into him so our cheeks almost touched. Then we were moving, swaying to the beat, the music flowing through us and sweeping us on. Sometimes Brad steered me with the gentlest of pressure, and I trembled all over at his firm touch. I missed a step, dizzy, and leaned my head on his shoulder. It wasn’t the wine — I’d hardly had any. It was the night and the music, the magical lighting, casting a spell on me. Turning my head. Tomorrow, all this would feel like a dream.
Brad looked down at me, smiling. The music had stopped. I tried to breathe normally, but I’d forgotten how. Brad was so close, still holding me gently. What would I do if he bent and kissed me? If he lifted one hand, pressed his thumb to my lips? Parted them, teasing? Caressed my cheek? Then he’d lean in and his lips would brush mine, and a great tide of sparks would go crashing through me, shower after shower of them. Endless fireworks.
“Thank you,” he said. “For a perfect dance.”
Then it was over and he’d pulled back, and he was guiding me back to the table. Was I disappointed, or was I relieved? My chest felt dark, hollow, my head full of fog. I shook it to clear it. Blinked the stars from my eyes. I was relieved. Of course I was. Brad was here for the summer, on a break between jobs. Soon he’d move on, and that would be that. Anything between us would wither away. Falling for Brad could only spell heartbreak.
Still, for that dance, spinning so close — for that dance, for that moment, I’d felt wonderful.
I’d felt like the only woman in the world.