8. Chapter 8
S miling dreamily, I savored my second bite of the crab cake in front of me.
“Divine?” Joel asked.
“It’s … almost beyond words,” I said breathily.
The crab cake was rich and buttery, with a lemony zing and just a whisper of crispness around the edges, with the aioli adding a creamy, tangy kick that perfectly balanced the flavors.
“My favorite appetizer has never tasted so good. And you know I love aioli. Rafael, why haven’t you taken me here before?
Such a tiny place, I’ve probably driven by hundreds of times before and not noticed it. ”
“I didn’t know it existed until recently.”
“Well, thanks for taking me out to lunch, guys. This is already a thousand times better than the plain sandwich I would’ve eaten at home.”
We ate in silence for a few minutes, and then Joel spoke up. “So, Annie, what are you up to this week? Free as a bird, must be nice, eh?”
I inhaled softly. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. I don’t really know what I’m going to do this week … or any week, for that matter. No plans.” I stuffed the rest of the crab cake in my mouth and closed my eyes to savor it.
At least he waited until I’d finished my last bite. “Have you given any more thought to my offer to teach part time?”
I licked my lips and then smiled as I saw the server approaching with our entrees already.
After the food was arranged in front of us, I looked at him thoughtfully before picking up my utensils and diving into my stir-fry.
“Not really.” After a few bites, I exclaimed, “OK, this dish is amazing too. Please take me out to lunch every day.”
Joel smiled. “It is delicious. But you should really consider his offer, Annie. I’ve seen you dance ballet, and Raf tells me you’ve done contemporary too. In my professional opinion, you’re phenomenal, for someone who doesn’t train regularly.”
That gave me pause. He was a professional.
He was also my friend—well, my best friend’s fiancé to be specific—but also a very talented professional.
He knew dance talent when he saw it. I’d always felt like a natural on the stage, though pursuing it as a career had never interested me.
Still, I had nothing else going on right now.
“Oh, what the heck. Sure, I’ll teach your little dancers, Rafael. Temporarily.”
Rafael’s face lit up as he literally squealed and bounced out of his chair.
“Yay, I’m so glad. The kids are going to love you.
Or hate you, but sometimes that’s a good thing in a dance teacher,” he said with a laugh.
“But actually, I can arrange it so you have some teen and adult classes too, not just little kids.”
“Sure, I’m open to whatever. I’ve never been good at tap or hip-hop though. I can handle ballet or maybe contemporary. Possibly jazz if you’re in a pinch.”
“Let’s go over the schedules this afternoon and figure out what classes would work best. The other two teachers have some flexibility and probably wouldn’t hate us too much if I shuffled some classes around.
Are you around this afternoon?” Rafael asked.
“Wait, what am I saying? Of course you’re around. You have literally nothing to do. ”
I opened my mouth to utter a sarcastic retort and then laughed instead. “You’re right.”
As we continued to eat and the two lovers began discussing wedding ideas, my mind began to drift. I was kind of excited to actually get paid to teach dance, just for fun for a while, though it wasn’t my true calling. But what was? I needed to keep thinking about what I truly wanted. I had no idea.
“Annie, are you listening?”
I jolted, looking at the two men. “I, uh, sorry. Daydreaming. What’s up?”
“We were just discussing the wedding. Big, flashy wedding, small cozy one, or elope. What do you think?”
“Uh, I really can’t make that kind of decision for you. What are you leaning toward?”
Rafael looked exasperated. “We just finished talking about that. You didn’t hear any of it?”
“Sorry, guys. Wedding stuff isn’t really my thing,” I admitted. When they looked at me with brows furrowed, I held up my hands. “What? Just because I’m a woman, I’m supposed to love weddings and be all about wedding planning?”
They sighed, and Rafael said, “Fair enough.”
“So what are you guys leaning toward as of now?”
Joel grinned at Rafael and then at me. “Let’s make it a surprise for now, eh, love?”
“That suggests eloping, but that would be too obvious. So I’ve narrowed it down to not eloping . ”
Rafael narrowed his eyes. “Are you suggesting we’re predictable in our unpredictableness?”
I smirked. “Something like that. Hey, we’re going to order dessert, right? Because you know that’s why I’m here.”
“Meanwhile, she’s just regular old ‘predictable,’” Rafael said to Joel, tongue in cheek. “Only Annie can turn any discussion into a conversation about dessert in a matter of seconds, all while looking like that .” He gestured toward my figure, reclining against the chair .
It was true—I could eat anything and stay slim.
Society’s idea of an ideal figure, slender with the hint of an hourglass shape, was one of the few things I’d been lucky to inherit from Jacqueline.
My mother also liked to point to our lush red hair, sea-green eyes, heart-shaped faces, well-formed lips, and fashion sense—as silly as it sounded—as if they were accomplishments.
As if we’d done anything to deserve them.
Of course, I knew that it all meant essentially nothing.
My body wasn’t better than anyone else’s, despite what society said.
Sometimes, it even made me feel strangely inferior, though I never bothered to analyze why.
My socially approved beauty had opened doors, but I had learned it meant little in the grand scheme of things.
“Well, I, for one, can’t eat another bite,” Joel said.
Rafael leaned in for a dramatic whisper. “He actually means it.”
I smiled. As we waited for the server to bring the dessert menu, my thoughts returned to my situation. What did I want in life? At least, career-wise?
Why was it so hard to figure out? After we placed our dessert orders, I stared out the window at the blustery spring day, trying to envision what my ideal life would be. At first the vision was … empty. Then hazy. Then …
“ Books .”
“What?” I turned to see Joel looking at me.
The crease between my brows deepened. “What?”
Joel studied me with an amused expression. “You were staring into space and then said ‘books’ out of nowhere.”
“Quite decisively, I might add.” Rafael eyed me curiously.
I pressed my lips together. “I said that aloud? Oh—” And then the server arrived, and all words escaped me as my eyes lit upon the strawberry shortcake that Rafael and I were going to share. “I can see why you wanted to share, Raf. This is massive.”
We both dipped our dessert spoons into the cake and then sighed in unison. When our spoons nearly collided for the second bite, Joel smiled, shaking his head with mirth. “Watching you two eat dessert is almost better than actually eating it. ”
After several more bites, Rafael slowed down. “So, Annie, did you have some kind of revelation about books?”
I set my spoon down reluctantly. “I’m not sure. Maybe this will sound silly. No, it definitely will—”
“Say it,” Rafael said, rolling his eyes.
“I was asking myself, what do I want to do with my life? I know, deep stuff for a casual lunch,” I said with a half-smile. “And then I thought, something to do with books. That’s all … that’s as far as I got, before I apparently blurted it out to you guys.”
“You’ve always been better with talking things out loud rather than doing the internal debates, girl.”
“That’s true.” I was an extrovert through and through.
Most of the time, I’d much rather talk about things than think about them.
And I’d been stuck in my head far too much lately.
“I don’t mean editing dull nonfiction books like I’ve been doing since college.
I mean, well, actually … I don’t know. Like, I have no idea. But not what I did before.”
Joel looked thoughtful. “Books … hmm. What about writing books? Novels? Are you interested in that?”
I shook my head slowly. “I don’t think I’d have the patience. I love to read books, but I don’t think I could write them. I could maybe edit fiction, but I’m sort of leaning toward moving away from editing at the moment. Or at least taking a break from it.”
“Maybe you could be a professional book reviewer,” Rafael offered. “Is that a thing?”
“It is a thing, but it’s not an entry-level thing.
People have usually built up respected literary careers first before their opinion can be trusted as a professional reviewer.
Well, at least the good ones.” I took a long drink of my iced tea.
“I probably need something entry level.” When Rafael made a face, I added, “It’s fine, I’m only twenty-six. I don’t mind starting over.”
We were all silent for a while. Finally, Joel asked, “Something in publishing?”
“I really don’t know … maybe. ”
“Just tell me you won’t be a cashier at the bookstore,” Rafael said, waving his hand imperiously. “You can’t go that entry level.”
My eyes widened ever so slowly as the idea took hold.
Yes!
The voice inside was quiet but firm. I took another sip of iced tea.
“Hold up. I like that idea, Raf. Don’t be a snob.
What’s wrong with working the bookstore counter?
I could learn more about book sales. You’re right that it’s entry level, almost like pre-entry level , but I’m fine with that. Everyone has to start somewhere.”
Rafael’s nose wrinkled in distaste, and Joel nudged him. “Hey, she’s right. Don’t be a snob, love.” Then he turned toward me with an encouraging smile. “I think it’s a great idea if that interests you!”