The Waitress

by Melissa Nathan

“How long have you got before your date?” asked Sukie.

  Katie shut her eyes. “Do you know,” she said, savoring the stillness. “I don’t even know his surname. Or what he studied at Oxford.”

  “Your family all well then?” smiled Sukie.

  “How could I possibly go on a date with someone if I don’t even know his surname?” continued Katie. “Haven’t I heard of date rape?”

  “Cup of tea?” asked Jon.

  Katie smiled and nodded.

  “Did you tell your mum,” asked Sukie, “that after a snog like that you wouldn’t care if his surname was Marmaduke?”

  Katie grimaced. “Nobody snogs that well,” she muttered. She sat up and grinned at her friend. “This is a nice surprise. How was your weekend?”

  “Absolutely terrible. That’s why I’m here.”

  “You can tell me all about it while I try on my entire wardrobe and then decide to wear what I wore last week.”

  Which is exactly what they did.

  “So you see,” concluded Sukie, watching Katie struggle out of her third outfit, “I needed serious CV and letter-writing help. And then I remembered that Jon is your expert CV writer.”

  Katie turned to show her friend the fourth outfit. Sukie shook her head and Katie added it to her Charity Shop pile, so called because they would only accept it out of charity.

  “Has he said yes?” asked Katie.

  “I’m still trying to persuade him. He says he’s busy, what with writing his book and all your CVs.”

  “Don’t terrify him into it,” said Katie, “he’s easily terrified.” She suddenly gasped and then came and sat next to Sukie on her bed.

  “I know what you can do for him in return!”

  “I’m not that sort of girl.”

  “He keeps getting invited to meet agents who love his writing, but he’s too shy to go.”

  “Mmmm?” said Sukie dubiously.

  “He needs help with pretending to be more confident than he is!”

  “How can I help with that?”

  “He needs acting lessons!” Katie cried. “You’re the perfect person! You have to help him!”

  To her surprise, Sukie started nodding slowly. “Maybe then he’ll help me with my letters. I’ll put it to him.”

  Then Katie voiced her doubts about her date. “I mean,” she explained to Sukie, “Geraldine was still clearly emotionally attached to him at the party.”

  “It didn’t stop you getting off with him,” pointed out Sukie.

  Katie grimaced. “I know. Am I terrible? I just couldn’t help myself.”

  “Of course not!” said Sukie. “All’s fair in love and war. You didn’t do it to hurt Geraldine. You fell for Dan.”

  “I did,” nodded Katie. “But I know how I’d feel if I was in Geraldine’s shoes.”

  “Tall,” said Sukie. “And you know she’d do the same to you in a flash. Dan would be with her if he wanted to be. He wants to be with you.”

  When Jon brought in Katie’s tea, Sukie offered to give him free acting lessons in exchange for his CV and letter writing.

  “And I’ll do your makeover,” added Katie. “With both of us helping you, you’ll be batting off agents with a stick.”

  “What’s in it for you?” asked Jon.

  Katie shrugged. “Rent reduction?”

  “If I get a book deal,” said Jon, “I should be able to afford it.”

  Half an hour later, while Katie was making her final adjustments to what she’d worn last week, adding perfume, accessories and make-up, Sukie and Jon arranged their first acting lesson and CV writing session.

  An hour later, Katie was waiting, wide-eyed and bushy tailed, for Dan to pick her up and take her out.

  Dan was five minutes late. The first four minutes were totally acceptable, but that last minute dangled dangerously between This Is A Man Who Cannot be Trusted and It Was All A Cruel Joke. By the time the doorbell rang, only four minutes and fifty-seven seconds after the appointed time, her stomach was one great fur-ball of fear. She gave herself a once-over in the hall mirror, smiled at her reflection and approached the door—and as she did so, her life went into slow-motion. As the door loomed larger and larger, she was assailed by the terrifying prospect that waiting outside was a mutant who only looked good at crap parties you were drunk at. She could feel her legs continuing to walk toward the door, while her spirit stretched behind her, from her chest all the way into the living room, like a cartoon pair of braces.

  All too soon, she watched her hand rise up to the door handle like someone under hypnosis, while she desperately tried to think of an emergency escape plan. She could pretend she had urgent business with Jon and tell Jon to phone her after half an hour. Depending on how much Dan resembled last weekend’s vision of pearly manhood or how much he resembled Frankenstein’s monster, she could use Jon’s call as a get-out. (The old ones are the best.)

  She stared at her hand now resting on the handle, as if it held the answer, and could hear the unmistakable sound on the other side of the door, of a grotesque giant who’d got lucky at a party last Saturday night, mentally undressing her.

  The evening stretched ahead of her. She took her hand off the handle. She didn’t have to do anything silly. She owed this man nothing. She could just pretend she wasn’t there, he never need know. She could just stop breathing until he went away and then stay in with Jon and Sukie and watch cozy Sunday evening television.

  She stared at the door handle until it went out of focus. When the doorbell rang again, she jumped, offered up a McPrayer—there are no such things as atheists before a date—and imagined telling her mother from her hospital bed, “I had no choice, he rang the bell twice,” and opened the door.

  Halo of light, trumpet fanfare, choral blast. Dan was here! Dan of the cliff-face cheekbones, the crinkly cheek, hazel-flecked blue eyes, long legs and Roman nose. Dan Someone was here! Prayer, charity and goodwill fought for supremacy in Katie’s singing heart, just before her mind turned to mush.

  “Hi!” she probably shrieked. “Come on in!”

  “Hi,” he grinned, his dark hair even darker from the rain.

  “I’ll just get ready,” she said, bent down and picked up her umbrella. “Ready!” she sang.

  He laughed at her joke. A rich, deep, fruity laugh that did things to her insides.

  He Laughed At Her Joke.

  This thought swelled as if she’d added water to it, and expanded to fill her brain completely, rendering her incapable of thought. She didn’t allow herself to speak while they walked to his car because she’d probably come out with something off the Teletubbies.

  “Here we are,” he said, stopping by a sporty silver number.

  She made a noise of approval, which she hoped didn’t sound too much like “eh-oh” and got in. The seat was much further down than she’d imagined.

  “Wow,” she said before remembering not to speak. “I have a low-slung bottom.”

  He laughed at her joke again.

  He Laughed At Her Joke Again.

  “Yeah,” he said. “It is a silly car. I’ll get a sensible one any day now.”

  She wanted to say something about how it wasn’t a silly car and it would be a shame to do something sensible, and her bottom was not low-slung at all, it was the seat, just so they’d got that clear—but her brain seemed to be completely full up with the fact that he’d laughed at her joke again.

  As they set off in a silence that seemed to inflate like an airbag, Katie realized the awful truth. There was no more room in her brain. It was full up. What a crap time for this to happen. If only she hadn’t worked so hard at school.

  She looked out of the window, trying desperately to think of something to say.

  Nope. Nothing. Total blank.

  Was it possible to get Alzheimer’s from nerves?

  What would Sukie do?

  She had visions of Sukie straddling Dan and shut her eyes to erase the image.

  What would her mother do?
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  No, that was no help at all.

  He coughed.

  She froze.

  He coughed again. “So,” he asked. “How was the weekend with your parents?”

  “Oh,” she said. “It was only one night.”

  They reached some red traffic lights. She should just get out here. Run away and he need never see her again. She could live in the forest and eat berries. Oh dear God, she had to eat an entire meal in front of him. Why had she not thought of this before? How on earth had she been looking forward to this? This was torture. She mustn’t eat cheese.

  Or garlic.

  Or any carbohydrates.

  “So,” he asked, as the lights turned green. “How was the one night with your parents?”

  “Fine.”

  Should she just explain that her brain was full up? He’d understand, he was a nice guy. Just as she was about to say it, he spoke again.

  “Here we are then,” he said. “My favorite restaurant.”

  After a pre-dinner glass of wine, Katie was able to push her mind beyond its limits, like a boulder up a hill, and thus grew more than capable of uttering a fine collection of one-syllable non-sequiturs. Luckily, Dan was happy enough to do all the talking, and until such time as her brain was able to function, she was happy enough to do all the uh-huh-ing. Listening might take another glass of wine. Either that or not caring. She’d never realized before just how many different skills were involved in making interesting conversation: hearing the other person, making sense of their words, having an opinion—or at least borrowing someone else’s—and then using your brain to make your mouth form words that will not only make sense to the other person but will make them like you, laugh with you, want to spend more time with you and wonder what you’ll be like in bed. Not easy when your brain’s full up.

  “Have you decided yet?” Dan asked her over the menu.

  “Oh yes,” said Katie, “I think I’ll eat.”

  He laughed at her joke again.

  But it hadn’t been a joke. Should she tell him? No. She joined in the laughter with great enthusiasm, just as he stopped. To her horror, she found herself laughing loudly into an abyss of embarrassment. She stopped. My brain’s full up, she explained with sad eyes, but Dan was already looking away, pouring himself some more wine.

  “I’ll have what you’re having,” she said quickly.

  Dan nodded briefly without looking up from his wine.

  If she’d properly thought through what tonight would entail, she’d have backed out. Just then Dan’s cheek crinkled. Maybe not, she thought. Some things were worth making a complete twat of yourself over.

  After the second glass of wine and the first course of food, she felt much more relaxed. She even interrupted Dan’s hot debate with himself about whether dogs dreamt with one of her anecdotes about Spartacus and Hector’s bizarre sleep noises. She gave an uncanny impression of Spartacus’s Scoobydoobydoo-like bleats and Hector’s hiccups and Dan laughed at her silly noises so much he almost choked.

  He Laughed At Her Silly Noises So Much He Almost Choked.

  And she was back to square one.

  Luckily Dan needed to excuse himself and go to the toilet. She watched him walk, straight and tall, handsome and confident, further and further away, past the other diners and out into beyond.

  Dan walked, straight and tall, rigid and grim-faced, out to the Gents. He went straight past the urinals and into a cubicle and slammed the door shut behind him. There he stood, head against the door, his body drained.

  Why the hell had he brought her to a restaurant? Why not a film? Or the theater? Or a club? Go-kart racing, even. Sod it, a book reading would have been better than this prolonged agony.

  He’d ruined it.

  The journey here was bad enough, as she’d clearly changed her mind about going out with him. What had happened at her parents? Was there a long-suffering boy back home whom she’d spent long summer afternoons in the hay-loft with, who’d finally proposed? He hadn’t been able to think of a single thing to bring her out of her silence. All he could do was laugh at her funnies. She was too funny for him. Too clever. Just like when he was at Oxford, and instead of finding all the girls fun and intelligent, he’d just been too daunted by their brains.

  And then this bloody place.

  As soon as they’d sat down in the trendy restaurant’s glaring light, it was obvious that the last thing either of them wanted to do was sit facing each other and stuff a three-course meal down their gullets. She couldn’t even muster enough interest to choose what to eat and had left it up to him. He’d been so thrown by that that he’d chosen bloody polenta, which was like swallowing cement. She’d spent the entire evening so far pushing it round her plate, and his throat seemed to have constricted from talking too much all bloody evening. Dog dreams? What the hell had he been thinking? Oh yes, that’s right, he hadn’t been thinking, he’d been panicking. He’d been doing conversational bungee-jumping while she’d looked on, uncomprehending, uncaring and getting increasingly pretty.

  He wiped his upper lip. Oh God, but just look at her. No wonder she was unimpressed by him. In fact, unimpressed didn’t touch it—when she’d opened her front door she’d looked so utterly terrified he thought maybe there were burglars hidden behind the door with guns held to her head telling her to act normal. And then she’d bent down to pick up the umbrella—in that little skirt—right in front of him—and he’d seen stars.

  He must stop drinking and calm down. Meanwhile, he must ply her with drink and get her happy.

  He suddenly felt giddy, put down the toilet seat and sat on it, head in hands. He’d go back in a while. He took deep, slow breaths.

  Katie stared forlornly at the spot where Dan had vanished. She couldn’t work out what upset her most, the fact that he’d gone, or the fact that he’d soon be back and witness her mental capacity disintegrate further. She looked at her uneaten bread roll. If someone came in and offered her £1,000 to eat that now, she couldn’t do it.

  Maybe she should just admit she was crap at dates. That was why college was so easy—men were everywhere: in seminars, in lectures, in the bar, in her flat. You had a chat with them every time you saw them and before you knew it you were an item. It was like buying new clothes without having to try them on because they just turned up in your wardrobe. Perfect. And so different from this ridiculous, false situation, which brought out the worst in her. Maybe she should just be watching Dan in the cinema, safe in the dark, knowing that he couldn’t see her spilling nachos down her top. He must be so bored, she’d hardly mumbled anything all night. How could she explain to him that she’d suddenly lost her nerve to speak in complete sentences, when she was unable to speak in complete sentences?

  She poured herself some more wine and took herself in hand.

  QUESTION: How did she feel about him?

  ANSWER: Crazy.

  QUESTION: How did he feel about her?

  ANSWER: He’d asked her out—it couldn’t be bad.

  So far so good. Keep going.

  QUESTION: How many shopping days till Christmas?

  ANSWER: Not many now.

  It was working, she was beginning to feel excited. She drank some more wine, hoping Dan wouldn’t come back for a while.

  QUESTION: How much fun would they have when they could laugh about this together?

  ANSWER: Years and years’ worth.

  QUESTION: How much did she want to go out with him?

  ANSWER: How long is a piece of string?

  QUESTION: Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are near?

  She ate some of the bread.

  When he came back, she’d apologize—in a brief, pithy sentence—for her behavior. Explain how nervous she was and tell him how much she liked him. Everything was going to be all right. Dan was the man.

  Dan the man was peeing with gusto in the Gents and giving himself a firm talking-to. It wasn’t over yet, there were still two courses to go and they’d be Fun. As h
e washed his hands, he stared at himself in the mirror, checked his teeth for stray spinach. He’d ask her about herself—that was it! He smiled at his reflection. Of course! That was what girls always did to break the ice—why hadn’t he thought of that before? He’d ask her more details about her family, her weekend, her home life. Coax her out of herself, be gentle yet persistent. She’d relax and realize how much they got on. Then he’d offer to drive her to his favorite park in London where they could look over the city of lights and in the dark, cold winter air forget all about this stupid stuffy restaurant and catch up where they’d left off last Saturday…

  Yes, it was going to be fine. He finished drying his hands, remembered that he’d brought his travel aftershave, twizzled it in place and sprayed it all into his right eye.

  Katie continued to stare forlornly at the spot where Dan had vanished, like a mongrel waiting for its owner outside Safeways. Had he escaped through the window? She was just considering following him when her mobile phone rang. It was Geraldine, Dan’s ex. Now was not the time. She tried to turn the phone off, but, through nerves, missed the tiny button and instead answered it.

  “Hello!” sang Geraldine happily. “What you doing?”

  Katie gulped. “Not a lot.”

  “Listen,” said Geraldine. “A little bird tells me that you’re out with Dan and I just want you to know that it’s absolutely fine with me.”

  There was a pause.

  “Just in case you thought I might be angry,” she continued. “Or jealous.” She laughed. “I am so not. You are absolutely free to see him. Just don’t let him take you for granted, as he did me. He has a habit of doing that. And of patronizing you, without you realizing it, so you just end up thinking you’re stupid even though you’ve got a PhD, that sort of thing. And he’s got a foul temper. No fuse whatsoever, just suddenly flares up. And of course you’ll have to start going to football matches. Every week. Rain or shine.”

  “Right.”

  “Anyway, I’ve got a good feeling about you two.”

  “Have you?”

  “Oh yes,” enthused Geraldine. “I think you’re going to end up sharing the same breakfast table for the next fifty years.”