REM // Van McCann

73. Last-Minute Trip

Florence sat right across from me at the table and I found it difficult to maintain eye contact so I looked down at my plate. Looking at her, you wouldn't expect her to be the type that likes to cook but she does. She makes whatever she's in the mood for and it's as random as her personality. One day, she'll be craving a burrito, and next thing you know, we're having steak, mashed potatoes, greens, and wine.

This food was much too fancy for your average dinner and I wondered if this was her idea of a date. The thing is that I haven't even properly asked her out yet! But maybe she likes hosting just as much as she likes going out. When I looked up again, I locked eyes with her and couldn't look away. Not when she was looking at me expectantly.

"This looks great," I managed. I couldn't think straight—not when she was looking at me like that. How am I supposed to eat when she's staring at me like I'm her food? What if I eat like an animal or get something stuck in my teeth? "Aren't you gonna eat?"

"Yeah," she replied, picking up her knife and fork.

She began cutting her steak into bite size pieces which bought me time to eat in peace. Even after a full day at work, she still managed to look radiant. She was wearing a striped jumper with colors that reminded me of fall even though it was the dead of winter. I should tell her she looks good but for some reason, I couldn't. I'm sure she's been complimented many times before and what I say will never measure up to them.

"Bondy knows you're staying with me," I said out of the blue, feeling like I needed to say something. It was too quiet at the table.

"How did he find out?" Florence asked, talking with her mouth full of food. She covered her mouth in embarrassment and drank some wine to get it down.

"That was my fault, actually. I wasn't being careful with what I said and he caught on and asked me about it. He handled it well though and doesn't think much of it," I continued.

"What did I tell you? If you explain the situation, people will understand."

I was surprised how nonchalant she was. How does that not bother her? If I cared less about what others think, I'd be much happier but I can't. I'm always fretting over something. But perhaps that was what I needed to learn and Florence could help me. We were quite different from each other but that's what made things exciting. I wanted to learn more about her.

"Do you...erm...want to go out this weekend? Like Saturday or summat?" I asked nervously. There wasn't much time left until my trip to Portugal. I wanted to at least get one date in before I go.

"I'm actually busy this weekend. It's my...birthday weekend," she said awkwardly. Oh shit, I had totally forgotten about it. If I recall things correctly, her birthday was in late January. She'll be turning 28.

"When's your birthday?" I asked and she went quiet.

"It's actually today."

"Oh," I replied. "Happy birthday! Why didn't you say anything?"

Now I felt like shit making her come in on her birthday so I could make her kiss a frog. So that's why today's food was so fancy. Why didn't I notice? Florence blushed. It was unlike her to be so flustered.

"I mean—it's not a big deal, really. I was planning to celebrate over the weekend anyway," she explained, trying to turn the attention away from her.

"But you ought to have cake on your birthday! Lemme run to the store real quick." I started getting up from the table and Florence got up to stop me.

"I'm fine. I'll have my cake, don't worry."

It was much too late anyway but I felt terrible. I'm surprised she didn't tell me. Perhaps she isn't big on celebrating her birthday like Clara but she has a busy weekend. Everything about her behavior made it seem like she didn't want me to know.