Second First Impressions(33)
“What’s the point of being old and rich if you can’t flex it?” He makes a fair point. We push through the front door. Behind my ear, he says, “Could you expand on how good-looking you think I am?” His hand slides on my waist.
“Theodore,” I yip and he just smiles like I told him anyway. There is definitely a table for four with a reserved sign, but two tables of two are being hastily reset.
“We’re sitting here. You two have to sit by yourselves,” Renata booms across dozens of well-dressed people eating their meals. “How very romantic.” Every single person lowers their cutlery and looks at me. I feel like every single loose thread in my outfit is visible. Renata isn’t done. “Ruthie, you can practice having a date before the real thing comes along.”
“The real thing?” Teddy repeats. “Pinch me. Last time I checked, I was real.”
“You know what she means.” I am neon pink with embarrassment. The entire silent room of diners watch, cutlery still lowered, as we weave through to our designated table. Teddy pulls out my chair and I ease down into it.
“This menu has no prices,” Teddy observes. “That’s not a good sign.”
“Your friends have advised us that they will be ordering for you,” the hovering waiter says. “Any dietary restrictions?”
“Just basic poverty.” Teddy is gratified when I laugh. He rubs his hands together. “Free lunch. Everything’s coming up Teddy. Is it weird that I’m kind of obsessing about my tortoise?” He sends a text. “Mel promised me updates.”
“Sometimes when I have a really sick one, I make excuses to go up and check it.”
He nods. “You’re the only one who knows how it feels. How come we can take them to the Reptile Zoo for free?” He nudges my foot under the table. “Who came up with the forms?”
“I just knew that they were endangered, so I made some calls and the zoo sent some people up to Providence. The forms were me, of course. Any excuse for more paperwork,” I joke, but he shakes his head at the self-deprecation.
“So you created the entire rehab program for an endangered species. By yourself. I bet your horrible Sylvia doesn’t approve.” He sees the answer on my face. “Mel told me you have to fund-raise. These Providence people have enough money under their couch cushions to fund the Christmas party ten times over.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It should. People take too much from you. Make sure Rose doesn’t trample you too.” He holds up his phone to change the subject. Melanie has sent a selfie of herself staring into TJ’s Kleenex box most diligently. She’s made a paper nurse’s hat and decorated it with a red cross. “That girl is a complete nut,” he says fondly.
For one shivering moment, I marry them in my mind. What a sweet story for their wedding. And I told her, the only one I trust is you. A toast to my bride! I bet I’ll have to help their caterers clean up empty glasses.
Even while having a bad daydream, I can sound normal. “Even tortoise daddies need to take a break.”
“I know it’s weird. I’ve never had a pet.” Before I can explore that with him— surely as a kid he could have had a pony if he wanted it?— he blinks away the sadness and smooths the tablecloth. “Well, this is very fancy. Did the other Parloni boys get free lunches?”
“I don’t think so. I think you’re special. I mean— ”
“Very special, how kind,” he agrees in a warm voice. Then he grabs at one of the tiny bread rolls and slathers it with butter. Scarfs it down. “What was the last boy like?”
I lean back in my chair and straighten my cutlery. “That would be Phillip. He was studying journalism and ran a blog about sneakers. He drew the line at ironing practical joke underwear.”
“What, you mean that ratty leopard-print thong they keep pranking me with? I’ve found far worse in the bottom of my sheets.” He says that too loud and our neighbors turn their heads. “I folded it in that Japanese way, down to the size of a matchbox.”
I laugh. “Sounds like you’re a tidy boy sometimes.”
He replies, “Since I met you, I’ve been folding everything. I’ve lived in mess my entire life. I want a label maker. I want to tattoo my belongings. Tell me about the boy before Phillip.” Teddy inserts a second bread roll into his mouth.
I’m distracted because I just saw something real and deep down, underneath his easy smile. I don’t think being a Prescott is as easy as I’d assumed.
“The boy before Phillip was Brayden. Nineteen, chronically unemployed. He was shocked to be given the job. It was sad how elated he was. He hung around the front office, getting in my way.”
I think he asks through his mouthful: “How’d she break him?”
I smile against my will. “She pretended to be dead and he ran away and never came back. For all he knows, she did die.” I turn and watch Renata laughing with Aggie. “It was so unnecessary. Sometimes I wonder if she’s actually evil.”
“I think she tried that with me. I changed the TV channel; that restarted her heart. And before him?” He’s buttered a third roll, but something makes him freeze. It’s me. Do I have some kind of expression on my face? “Sorry, I was in a bread frenzy. Excuse my fingers.”