Not Perfect(64)

“The dumplings are great here,” he said. “Really, everything is good.”

Tabitha took her seat and looked around, feeling suddenly uncomfortable and wondering if she had made a mistake by jumping into this too fast.

“What do you like?” Toby asked, looking up from the menu with a concerned look in his eye. “Are you okay here?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, pulling her chair closer to the table and trying to relax. “I always like it downstairs better.”

“Actually, I do, too,” he said, which made her relax even more. “But this is okay. I’m just happy to be here with you.”

Tabitha smiled. Toby closed his menu.

“We never really finished our talk at the game about what is going on with you, with me, with each of us. I guess we barely started it,” he said.

The waiter came over and put two glasses of ice water on the table.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Do you like champagne?” Toby asked Tabitha. At first she thought he was joking, but she realized he wasn’t.

“Sure,” she said.

“Two glasses of champagne, please.”

She waited for him to start the conversation again, but he just smiled at her. She liked that he didn’t feel he had to talk all the time. Stuart was a professional talker. It was like he could never just be quiet or that the silence might reveal something he didn’t want to be revealed. Now she was starting to understand why. But this was nice. She liked this.

When the glasses arrived, he held his up to make a toast. She raised her glass.

“I want to make a toast,” he said. “To you—for being someone who makes me want to get to know her better. I haven’t met anyone like that in a long time. Wherever the dumplings may take us, I am grateful for that.”

“Cheers,” she said.

As if the server were waiting behind a curtain for the cue of Toby finishing his toast, he emerged with a full tray and set down the promised dumplings along with chicken skewers, two egg rolls (the old-fashioned kind), scallion pancakes, and shrimp toast. Tabitha was confused, since they hadn’t ordered, but she was hungry, and she filled her plate. She thought about mentioning how much she liked the soup here, but decided there was plenty already.

“How did he know what we wanted?” she asked.

“Oh, I ordered a sample menu when I called.”

“Then why were you looking at the menu?” she asked.

“I don’t know, it gave me something to do?” Toby said. “But please, if there is something you want that you don’t see here, order it. I was just taking my best guess.”

“No, this all looks great,” she said. She smiled again and took another sip of the sparkling wine. It was so sweet it could have been soda, but she didn’t mind.

“I’ll start,” he said, like they had agreed upon something to talk about. But she knew what he meant. “First, I should say, and I think this is important, I wasn’t looking to meet someone. Honestly. I was just going to the bar to, well, to root for Michigan, and because I was lonely. The fewer meals I have to have alone the better, right? So . . .” he trailed off.

“That’s exactly why I was there, too,” Tabitha said. “The food!”

They both laughed. Tabitha could have said more, that she wasn’t looking to meet anyone either, but it seemed so ridiculous, so obvious, whether he realized it or not; she just couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“That reminds me,” she said. “I thought you said you didn’t eat meat.”

“I said I don’t eat a lot of meat,” he said. “And that’s true. But I do eat some.”

“Oh, okay,” Tabitha said, reshuffling her vision of him. He wasn’t a vegetarian. That was good. She loved meat.

“Okay, so the hard stuff,” Toby said. “You know a tiny bit. My wife and I are legally separated and moving toward divorce.”

He paused, and Tabitha thought, Actually I didn’t know that. But instead of saying it, she nodded as if to say, Go on.

“I know I mentioned an incident, for which I am responsible. I’m sure that conjures up all kinds of ideas in your mind. I’m willing and open to talking about it, if you want me to.”

She did want him to. She was curious. She was also a little scared. It was nice having this . . . possibility, before he became a real person. At some point, if you talked to someone long enough, they were bound to become a real person. She wanted to put that off for a little while. Plus, she didn’t want to be the one answering the questions.

“You know what,” she said. “We don’t have to talk about that now. Can we just eat and talk about something else? These dumplings are delicious. How’s your mother, by the way?”

“She’s okay,” he said, cutting an egg roll in half and putting a clump of cabbage that fell onto the table into his mouth. “She’s still sore, but I think she’s a little better each day. It’s those damn home-health aides who are driving me crazy. Half the time they don’t show up, the other half of the time, they send strangers. I thought I might have to cancel with you because her morning person didn’t come, but she assured me she was okay. I’ll go check on her later.”

Something strange happened in Tabitha’s brain. It was like something was nagging at her, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what it was. She tried to brush it off and focus on Toby.