good choices,” Daniel said, and he nodded towards me and winked. The waiter smiled and retreated to the kitchen, and I kicked Daniel under the table. But not very hard.
Hours passed, in our cocoon. We ate and we drank and I laughed a lot, and the dim light made me feel like there was nothing but our little world, here, now, the red and white check tablecloth, the guttering candle, the rich taste of wild mushrooms and the soft bite of the wine.
“Nice this,” Daniel said.
“Yes,” I said. “It is.”
“See, I treat you well,” he said. “Life can be better, you know. You ain’t seen the half of it.”
I thought about birthday meals in expensive restaurants, my father the laughing host at the end of the table, looking after everyone, more brandy here, another bottle of wine there, the best, always the best. Men in dark suits standing by the far wall. Some of them waiters. Some of them not. I thought of a hotel in Paris where the carpets nearly swallowed my little feet whole. I did not need this Italian restaurant to show me how life could be better. I had lived that life, once, a life that went beyond what Daniel could think of. I got cross with myself. Now is not the time to think of the past, Anna. Now is the time to enjoy this moment. Because it will not last. I became aware that Daniel had spoken.
“Sorry?”
“Tell me if I’m boring you,” he said, annoyed the way a child would be. “I said this is better than that burger bar.” Daniel looked around him, flicked his hair out of his eyes, and smiled, as if to himself. “Prefer the staff here,” he said. “Present company excepted.”
“Daniel,” I said. “Do not start this.”
“I know, I know, he’s your friend, shoulder to cry on, mops the floor when it’s your turn. But he’s weird, Anna. He is. Something wrong with him. He’s too starey and intense. You’ll be nice to him one time too many and then the next thing you know, you’ve got yourself a stalker.”
“He is not like that, don’t be cruel. He is my friend.”
“Yeah,” Daniel said, spearing a piece of ravioli. “But does he think the same about you?”
“Yes,” I said. “I think so. He confides in me.”
Daniel shook his head. “Anna, Anna. You’re a smart girl. Have to be, to do what you’ve done, the doctor thing and all that. But sometimes, you’re like a kid in the woods. There’s wolves out there, girl. Trust me on this.”
“Are you saying that he is not my friend? You don’t know him, or me, enough to say that.”
“I know him enough,” he said. “Bloke, isn’t he. Look, Anna, when he’s tucked up in his shitty little bedsit of a night, do you think he’s lying there thinking ah, what a lovely friend Anna is, I am so glad she is my friend? Is he bollocks. He’ll be thinking about when he saw you bend over the grill at work that day, and he’s going to be thinking about bending you over the grill himself and—”
“Daniel, stop it.”
“Yeah, he’ll probably fantasize about you saying that an’ all. But not really meaning it. Look, I know his sort. Oh, I’m so sensitive. Oh, confide in me. Oh, I’m so friendly, and sensitive. Come here and let me cuddle your worries away in my sensitive arms. And while you’re there, let me cop a feel of your tits.”
“I said stop it.” I was annoyed. Annoyed at Daniel for saying this, annoyed at myself because I could not help but wonder if he was right. Sean was a good friend, but Sean was a man and there were times when he looked at me and I wondered if he was thinking there is Anna, my good friend. Or if he was thinking something else.
“All right, all right, just saying. For your sake, you know? Be careful, Anna.” He leaned over the table towards me. “You’re a good person. Kind. I can see that. But sometimes, men, they’ll take that the wrong way. Confuse kindness with something else. If you really like him, you’re not going to want to hurt him, are you? Wouldn’t be you, that.
Hours passed, in our cocoon. We ate and we drank and I laughed a lot, and the dim light made me feel like there was nothing but our little world, here, now, the red and white check tablecloth, the guttering candle, the rich taste of wild mushrooms and the soft bite of the wine.
“Nice this,” Daniel said.
“Yes,” I said. “It is.”
“See, I treat you well,” he said. “Life can be better, you know. You ain’t seen the half of it.”
I thought about birthday meals in expensive restaurants, my father the laughing host at the end of the table, looking after everyone, more brandy here, another bottle of wine there, the best, always the best. Men in dark suits standing by the far wall. Some of them waiters. Some of them not. I thought of a hotel in Paris where the carpets nearly swallowed my little feet whole. I did not need this Italian restaurant to show me how life could be better. I had lived that life, once, a life that went beyond what Daniel could think of. I got cross with myself. Now is not the time to think of the past, Anna. Now is the time to enjoy this moment. Because it will not last. I became aware that Daniel had spoken.
“Sorry?”
“Tell me if I’m boring you,” he said, annoyed the way a child would be. “I said this is better than that burger bar.” Daniel looked around him, flicked his hair out of his eyes, and smiled, as if to himself. “Prefer the staff here,” he said. “Present company excepted.”
“Daniel,” I said. “Do not start this.”
“I know, I know, he’s your friend, shoulder to cry on, mops the floor when it’s your turn. But he’s weird, Anna. He is. Something wrong with him. He’s too starey and intense. You’ll be nice to him one time too many and then the next thing you know, you’ve got yourself a stalker.”
“He is not like that, don’t be cruel. He is my friend.”
“Yeah,” Daniel said, spearing a piece of ravioli. “But does he think the same about you?”
“Yes,” I said. “I think so. He confides in me.”
Daniel shook his head. “Anna, Anna. You’re a smart girl. Have to be, to do what you’ve done, the doctor thing and all that. But sometimes, you’re like a kid in the woods. There’s wolves out there, girl. Trust me on this.”
“Are you saying that he is not my friend? You don’t know him, or me, enough to say that.”
“I know him enough,” he said. “Bloke, isn’t he. Look, Anna, when he’s tucked up in his shitty little bedsit of a night, do you think he’s lying there thinking ah, what a lovely friend Anna is, I am so glad she is my friend? Is he bollocks. He’ll be thinking about when he saw you bend over the grill at work that day, and he’s going to be thinking about bending you over the grill himself and—”
“Daniel, stop it.”
“Yeah, he’ll probably fantasize about you saying that an’ all. But not really meaning it. Look, I know his sort. Oh, I’m so sensitive. Oh, confide in me. Oh, I’m so friendly, and sensitive. Come here and let me cuddle your worries away in my sensitive arms. And while you’re there, let me cop a feel of your tits.”
“I said stop it.” I was annoyed. Annoyed at Daniel for saying this, annoyed at myself because I could not help but wonder if he was right. Sean was a good friend, but Sean was a man and there were times when he looked at me and I wondered if he was thinking there is Anna, my good friend. Or if he was thinking something else.
“All right, all right, just saying. For your sake, you know? Be careful, Anna.” He leaned over the table towards me. “You’re a good person. Kind. I can see that. But sometimes, men, they’ll take that the wrong way. Confuse kindness with something else. If you really like him, you’re not going to want to hurt him, are you? Wouldn’t be you, that.
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