four-person table laid for two, in a window-niche, barely visible from the rest of the restaurant. He knew this table from previous meals, mostly business-related, and liked it. You could talk without being disturbed or overheard, and if you ran out of things to say, you could gaze out into the prettily lit garden, or down to the glittering city below, its lights reflected in the lake.
But now he was meeting a woman here, the choice of table seemed slightly indecent. He wondered if he should ask for another, but couldnât come up with a plausible explanation, and let it be.
He was twenty minutes too early. Five of them were left from the traveling time he had allowed, the other fifteen was the amount of time he liked to be early when he was the host, in case a guest arrived before the time arranged. He ordered a glass of sherry and settled himself, preparing to sit out his fifteen minutes and then hers.
When both had passed, he ordered another sherry; the waiter kept asking if he could bring him anything. For a woman to be half an hour late was unremarkable. But Adrian still began to be nervous. He got up twice and looked around the restaurant, in the unlikely event that Lorena had arrived and was unable to find his table. Even before the unremarkable half hour was up he began envisaging scenarios. She had forgotten the name of the restaurant and couldnât call him because he was an idiot and didnât have a cell phone. She hadnât forgotten the name of the restaurant, but was stuck in a jam and couldnât call because she had forgotten her cell phone. Had forgotten to charge it. Had run out of credit. She had gotten the day wrong and was planning to come on timeâbut tomorrow. Or it was him! Heâd gotten the day wrong!
He could have stood closer to her in Spotlight when she was telling the saleswoman the delivery address for the blouse. But that wasnât his style. If she had wanted him to have her address she would have given it to him.
When the thirty minutes were over, he started to worry. After all, Lorena was suicidal, as he knew all too horribly well.
But even in that scenario she had stood him up. Was there a more radical way to stand someone up than to take your life?
Stood up: he ordered another sherry, as that long forgotten feeling sank over him. Heâd been spared it since his youth. The feeling of being abandoned was familiar to him, had made him cry for hours in bed when his parents went out for the night, while a nanny at her witsâ end tried in vain to console him. It had plagued him in the various boarding schools he was sent to. And it had knocked him flat when Daphne packed her bags.
But the feeling of being stood up was different. Not as devastating, but certainly humiliating. Whereas most abandoned people talk nonstop about their experience, people whoâve been stood up stay silent in shame.
Now Adrian was relieved he had reserved a table where he couldnât easily be seen by the other guests. He didnât feel like playing the stood-up man in front of a huge audience; how long should this man wait before admitting he had been stood up? And what should he do?
An hour after the time of their date Weynfeldt made a decision; he had the second place setting cleared, ate something small as a gesture and left a tip quite large enough to compensate for the money lost on the second cover.
In the taxi on the way home he realized it had become a slow-motion day after all.
12
A S SOON AS SHE OPENED HER EYES SHE WOULD HAVE TO deal with reality. So she kept them closed. She was getting that champagne feeling, the feeling after the euphoria and before the headache. You could get rid of it with more champagne or Alka-Seltzer, or just ease it with lots of water, or you could sleep it off.
She wanted to sleep it off.
But now her eyes started opening on their own. In the same way they closed themselves when you were very tired, now they were doing the opposite. It
But now he was meeting a woman here, the choice of table seemed slightly indecent. He wondered if he should ask for another, but couldnât come up with a plausible explanation, and let it be.
He was twenty minutes too early. Five of them were left from the traveling time he had allowed, the other fifteen was the amount of time he liked to be early when he was the host, in case a guest arrived before the time arranged. He ordered a glass of sherry and settled himself, preparing to sit out his fifteen minutes and then hers.
When both had passed, he ordered another sherry; the waiter kept asking if he could bring him anything. For a woman to be half an hour late was unremarkable. But Adrian still began to be nervous. He got up twice and looked around the restaurant, in the unlikely event that Lorena had arrived and was unable to find his table. Even before the unremarkable half hour was up he began envisaging scenarios. She had forgotten the name of the restaurant and couldnât call him because he was an idiot and didnât have a cell phone. She hadnât forgotten the name of the restaurant, but was stuck in a jam and couldnât call because she had forgotten her cell phone. Had forgotten to charge it. Had run out of credit. She had gotten the day wrong and was planning to come on timeâbut tomorrow. Or it was him! Heâd gotten the day wrong!
He could have stood closer to her in Spotlight when she was telling the saleswoman the delivery address for the blouse. But that wasnât his style. If she had wanted him to have her address she would have given it to him.
When the thirty minutes were over, he started to worry. After all, Lorena was suicidal, as he knew all too horribly well.
But even in that scenario she had stood him up. Was there a more radical way to stand someone up than to take your life?
Stood up: he ordered another sherry, as that long forgotten feeling sank over him. Heâd been spared it since his youth. The feeling of being abandoned was familiar to him, had made him cry for hours in bed when his parents went out for the night, while a nanny at her witsâ end tried in vain to console him. It had plagued him in the various boarding schools he was sent to. And it had knocked him flat when Daphne packed her bags.
But the feeling of being stood up was different. Not as devastating, but certainly humiliating. Whereas most abandoned people talk nonstop about their experience, people whoâve been stood up stay silent in shame.
Now Adrian was relieved he had reserved a table where he couldnât easily be seen by the other guests. He didnât feel like playing the stood-up man in front of a huge audience; how long should this man wait before admitting he had been stood up? And what should he do?
An hour after the time of their date Weynfeldt made a decision; he had the second place setting cleared, ate something small as a gesture and left a tip quite large enough to compensate for the money lost on the second cover.
In the taxi on the way home he realized it had become a slow-motion day after all.
12
A S SOON AS SHE OPENED HER EYES SHE WOULD HAVE TO deal with reality. So she kept them closed. She was getting that champagne feeling, the feeling after the euphoria and before the headache. You could get rid of it with more champagne or Alka-Seltzer, or just ease it with lots of water, or you could sleep it off.
She wanted to sleep it off.
But now her eyes started opening on their own. In the same way they closed themselves when you were very tired, now they were doing the opposite. It
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