o/~ she's gonna make it... o/~
Feb. 21st, 2002 11:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kuangningIt was an impulse, really. I'd had a bar and grill in mind; cheerfully noisy and well-frequented, it was just three blocks away. But the glass and the discreet gold lettering caught my eye, and I pushed the door open before I could change my mind. The candles I'd seen through the glass were the major source of light; the overhead lighting was so dim that I couldn't have read by it. But on each table sat a little aluminum bowl with a candle set among coloured glass beads. It was a setting for couples, from the mosaic-tiled tables to the warm, dusky jazz winding its way through the rooms. I hesitated, but the young woman at the desk didn't. She led me to a table tucked comfortably into a corner, and introduced both herself (Jessica) and Paul, who would be my waiter. "he'll take good care of you," she promised. As it happened, she was right.
Funny how you feel out-of-place, dining alone at a table for two. But, as Paul brought a glass of the recommended Merlot, I started to relax. Outside the window, cars drove by without slowing, and the streets darkened. Something about the streetlights made me wish we were a few streets over, where I could have watched the river flow by. I sat in silence - and after a few solicitous inquiries from Paul, I realised that I was enjoying it. The interruptions, polite as they were, were minor annoyances, a break from the novelty of not needing to entertain, not needing to make conversation or listen to anything but the music and my own thoughts. How long since I'd gone out, by myself, to someplace worth slipping into my heels and my best dress and putting my hair up? Too long, that's how long. By the time my steak arrived, perfectly done, slightly pink in the middle and very tender, I'd forgotten why I was ever uncomfortable, and was wondering how soon it would be before I could have another night like that one.
At some point between the salad and the steak, a cluster of balloons drifted loose from the signpost to which they'd been tethered. Fat and lazy-looking, they floated in slow motion out into the street. I looked away for a moment to respond to an inquiry, and when I looked back, they were gone. Too soon after that, so were my meal and my time, and I sat sipping the first cup of coffee I'd had since leaving New York through the rituals of the cheque and the farewells. I walked out of the solid cocoon of brick and glass, but I took some of the warmth with me, and a significant amount of satisfaction and reassurance. On my own, with nothing more elaborate than a bit of jazz and a decent wine, I managed to be a good deal better than just all right. "We'll expect to see you again," Jessica smiled as I left... and, you know, I think they will. I feel like I stumbled into my own secret space in the middle of the Glass City. I'll be back... and I don't think I'll be taking anyone with me. ;)
Funny how you feel out-of-place, dining alone at a table for two. But, as Paul brought a glass of the recommended Merlot, I started to relax. Outside the window, cars drove by without slowing, and the streets darkened. Something about the streetlights made me wish we were a few streets over, where I could have watched the river flow by. I sat in silence - and after a few solicitous inquiries from Paul, I realised that I was enjoying it. The interruptions, polite as they were, were minor annoyances, a break from the novelty of not needing to entertain, not needing to make conversation or listen to anything but the music and my own thoughts. How long since I'd gone out, by myself, to someplace worth slipping into my heels and my best dress and putting my hair up? Too long, that's how long. By the time my steak arrived, perfectly done, slightly pink in the middle and very tender, I'd forgotten why I was ever uncomfortable, and was wondering how soon it would be before I could have another night like that one.
At some point between the salad and the steak, a cluster of balloons drifted loose from the signpost to which they'd been tethered. Fat and lazy-looking, they floated in slow motion out into the street. I looked away for a moment to respond to an inquiry, and when I looked back, they were gone. Too soon after that, so were my meal and my time, and I sat sipping the first cup of coffee I'd had since leaving New York through the rituals of the cheque and the farewells. I walked out of the solid cocoon of brick and glass, but I took some of the warmth with me, and a significant amount of satisfaction and reassurance. On my own, with nothing more elaborate than a bit of jazz and a decent wine, I managed to be a good deal better than just all right. "We'll expect to see you again," Jessica smiled as I left... and, you know, I think they will. I feel like I stumbled into my own secret space in the middle of the Glass City. I'll be back... and I don't think I'll be taking anyone with me. ;)
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Date: 2002-02-22 09:07 am (UTC)