About Last Night #2
“Oh, you mean how you acted at my place of business?” He rubs his mouth with the back of his hand, before his eyes round out
with sincerity. “Honestly, you weren’t that bad. And it was pretty empty when you came in. Just me and my dad. I think he’s
a fan of yours now.” He smirks.
“Oh god. What did I do?”
“Nothing wild. You ordered cheese fries. It’s just at some point you got up—I think to go to the jukebox—but you didn’t know
how to work it, so I tried to show you, and you stumbled, and I helped you up.”
“And I made a weird comment about your, um, arms?” A faint echo of my words, something about wanting to be wrapped up in them, floats through my memory, which I’ll never be able to forgive or forget.
“Don’t worry.” There’s a blush on his forehead. “You made sure to clarify that you weren’t hitting on me and that I was probably
a gym asshole.”
“Oh god, I’m sorry. That was very rude.” Why must I exist as the person that I am sometimes?
“Don’t worry about it.” But his wince appears for a flash before fading. “My dad certainly appreciated it. But you really
won him over when you told us you were half Persian and started sharing your favorite Farsi phrases.”
“Okay.” I let this information trickle in. “But I mostly only know, like, really offensive words.”
The glint in his eye is a terrible confirmation. “Yeah, that’s what my dad loved.”
“Fuck my life,” I reply evenly. “I’m such a weirdo. I wish I could hide in a pile of warm clothes from the laundry and never
emerge.”
“That is a common thing to wish for,” Sami says. “But seriously, it wasn’t that bad. For that diner, anyway, it’s pretty tame. You
weren’t even the most unruly costumer this week.”
I swallow down my shame. I’ve got this guy doing mental gymnastics trying to put a positive spin on this. “For me, it’s definitely
rock bottom.”
But it’s more than that. For other people, one night of reckless decisions is okay. One hangover is tolerable. But for me . . .
I had a career setback, and I coped with it exactly like I promised myself I never would. I became what I’ve always feared—a
drunk in public.
Sami shrugs. “Seriously, let those among us who haven’t sworn at two strangers in their first language while waiting for cheese
fries cast the first stone.”
His words draw a pleasant warmth into me. If I had to have this news delivered by someone, at least this guy has a good bedside
manner.
His recounting of my wild night is solidifying other memories. “I really didn’t mean to mess up the lobby. I knocked over
the table by accident and the vase broke. I remember, I was going to apologize for the mess so I went to write on the whiteboard,
but then I read the notice and got annoyed, and thought the other comment would somehow be funnier.” I throw my hands over
my face.
“See, you didn’t mean any harm.” Sami’s smile is too reassuring.
“You shouldn’t be comforting me, man.”
“Fair enough. But you do seem really sorry.”
I nod furiously, muscles still clenched. “I truly, truly am.”
He presses the tips of his fingers together; there’s an edge to his stare. “So I won’t tattle on you.”
“Thank you!” The relief is almost too much; I almost rush to hug him before catching myself and putting out my hand to shake
his. He hesitates only for a second before his brow raises and his hand wraps around mine, warming my fingers.
As our hands part, Sami says, “It’s been a while since someone’s given me an old-fashioned handshake. Kind of nice.”
“Well, you deserve it. Seriously, I was feeling like the worst person in the world today and now I feel like I can actually . . .”
Sami’s mercy is a lifeline. With it, I can start to pull myself back in line. “Like I can fix things.”
He chuckles softy. “I get it. I’ve had bad hangover regret in my time.” His gaze crawls over me assessingly, and for no good
reason this draws warmth to my cheeks. “So, this is why you’re taking Ernest? To make up for things?”
“A little,” I say honestly. “But also, it’ll be nice having him around. I’ve got a few weeks off and walking him will at least
give some routine to my day.” Already, the world feels off-kilter, and I’m tempted to crawl into my bed and not wake up until
my leave is over. “Plus, Bill Cleg made an infograph that mentioned the benefits of walking for mental health.”
“Sorry, who’s Bill Cleg?”
“Oh, he’s this guy that was cc’d in an email.” I probably didn’t need to bring up Bill Cleg. I look at Ernest, still on the
floor. “Point is, I’m genuinely happy to take him.”
“Yeah, he’s a good bud to have around.” He watches the dog in question, who is currently licking his chode, truly shameless.
Then Sami’s phone dings and his eyes flash toward it as he tilts his screen. “Hey, I gotta get back to the diner.” He finally
holds the harness out to me to take.
“He likes the park on the corner?” I say.
“Yep. That’s one of his usual haunts.” Another half grin as he kneels and pats Ernest. “Well, if you ever need more dog-sitting advice, you can always stop by the café. I’ll whip you up some fresh cheese fries.”
I jolt in surprise at his offer. Is it a joke or is he trying to . . . make friends? After witnessing me in my absolute worst
mode. I rove over his open, easygoing expression—his dark eyes and sturdy jaw—yep. I can see why I would’ve hit on him, but
he’s not the kind of guy I would seek for anything real. I need someone whose ambition matches my own—but if I was trying
to escape, if my lizard brain was trying to vacation from the reality of it all . . . I know myself. I know where I come from.
I swallow these thoughts, thankful that I didn’t go that far off the deep end and complicate things further.
I force a polite smile. “That’s kind of you, allowing me to show my face there again.”
“Oh, that’s not me being nice. It’s, like, really hard to get banned.” He smirks. “I can’t afford to be exclusive—like, at
all. You could probably shit on the floor and I’d welcome you back.”
“Charming,” I giggle, but a pleasant warmth floats through my chest. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He heads toward the door and I realize, after I close it, that I’m still smiling.
It doesn’t last long. I allow myself five minutes to flail in shame about all my offenses. Then I take a breath and grab my
sneakers to take Ernest for a walk.
When I get back, I sneak the vase chunks into the basement garbage bin and toss the Cheeto wrappers on top to cover the evidence.