Across the Table

The Ch�teau Joli is probably the nicest place I ever considered bashing my skull through a wall in. I doubt Maya remembered that we had our second anniversary here but I wouldn�t expect her to; she must find herself very busy finding new ways to slither behind my back so she can ride some poor sap�s unholy erection. I�ve had better nights.
        This s**t started about a week ago. I knew it was going to be a long day just from the miserable drive to the office; I nearly ran off the road at least six times from the biggest hail I�ve ever seen. When I got there I lost three sales just from the phone dying on me; there was an electrical storm last night (I shouldn�t have even came in that day but I�m too much of a b***h to call in sick), and it seems that they didn�t work out all of the kinks in the phone lines. Everything was a complete disaster; it was so bad that management had to send us home early. I got home after surviving another perilous drive; I opened the door to our apartment looking for a back rub and some kind words from my sweet little girl. I found that harlot jumping into bed with Johnny.
        She has a table in the back of the restaurant; she sees me come in and stands to wave me over, but she decides against waving, choosing to sit back down instead with a somber look on her face and her eyes on the ground. After I saw her in her infidelity she ran out with Johnny; the two scrambled out the door in such a mess that they barely managed to get their clothes on. The next day, while I was at work, she came back to pack her s**t and left her key on my counter. We didn�t speak at all in those two days, and it wasn�t until a week later that I heard her voice again. I came home and she was on my answering machine:
        �Leo, I�m sorry. You didn�t deserve to find out this way. Will you meet me for dinner tomorrow at that place on Main? The nice one? I owe you that, please. I�ll be there at seven, meet me if you want to. Please, I really want to talk to you. Ok, bye.�
        I walk through the place to meet her in the back. In my black suit, black tie, and white shirt I feel like I just came out of Reservoir Dogs (�Why am I Mr. Pink?� �Because you�re a f****t, alright?�). I brush some of my dirty blonde hair out of my eyes; I want to be sure I make eye contact with the Jezebel but she�s still looking at the ground. I get to the table but I don�t sit down right away. I stand there looking down at her; after a few seconds she acknowledges my existence and that right in front of her, so she stands up again. I�m pretty tall but she meets my eye level with ease (to be fair I�m sure her heels helped). She�s wearing a blue dress, a nice one (it must be new, she didn�t have this dress a week ago) and she has her light brown hair curled, lightly gracing her fair shoulders and out of the way of her heart-breaking blue eyes.
        �Hey Maya.�
        �Hi Leo. Can we sit down?�
        I nod and sit down, she follows suit. As if he was stalking us a round, smiling little waiter rushes to our table. While he�s asking us if we�re interested in any appetizers today I realize that he just locked the door, and now there�s no escape from this trap.
        �No thank you,� I reply �I think I�m ready to order. How about you, dear?�
        She winces �Yes, can I have the Caesar salad?�
        �And I�ll have the steak. Would a red wine be alright, dear?�
        She winces again, looks down and nods.
        (Now I realize that there�s no way out for her either.)
        The portly man nods and walks away quickly (Well I do believe I managed to make him uncomfortable too. What can I say? I�m good when I try). She eventually looks up and over at me, almost asking �How could you?�. I look down, then up again, looking at her with an �I�m sorry�. She goes over my eyes and goes back to looking ashamed. We just look at each other for a while, both of us pissed and miserable. Eventually I say something.
        �So where are you staying now, Maya?�
        �Do you really want to do this?�
        �It�s why I�m here, I think.�
        �I�m with Johnny now.�
        �Johnny was it? I think I ran into him about a week ago.�
        �Leo if you�re going to be like this��
        �Like what?� (I�m a little less sarcastic now and a little louder) �Like a guy who just found the girl he�s been living with for the past four years, the girl he was madly in love with,� (and I was) �in bed with his f*****g cousin?!�
        �Oh don�t hand me that s**t,� (she�s a little louder this time) �we haven�t been happy for a long time.� (I was) �We barely went out anymore and I was taking a backseat to that f*****g job of yours! You used to hate places like that, and now you have no problem going into that soul-sucking machine every day. You stopped writing, you weren�t home anymore; instead you were busy making sales.�
        (I check my jacket pocket to make sure it�s still there.)
        Before I got a chance to say anything back I saw our waiter coming. He looked at us, glanced around, and slowly made his way to our table. By the time he finally reached us he had a smile again (fake but he tried oh so hard) and gave us our food. We thanked him through clenched teeth; the poor guy really deserves one hell of a tip after this ordeal we�re putting him through.
        We each looked down towards our food and we began taking out all of our frustrations on the unfortunate, unsuspecting meals. I can only picture Maya and Johnny and what I�d like to do to that rat b*****d as I cut through my dead cow. I can see Maya over on her side, gritting her teeth a little as she stabs some lettuce and a tomato hard enough that some of the juice squirts out and flies across the table towards me; I�ve never been so happy that I�m not produce.
        We finish our respective killings. I start again.
        �Was Johnny the only one?�
        �Yes.�
        �How long has this been going on?�
        �I�m not sure��
        �Come on. I think I have a right to know.�
        I stare her down a bit. She tries to squirm out of the way but it�s not happening.
        �I don�t know; half a year?�
        My jaw drops. I leave it hanging there.
        �You and him? Half a year?�
        �Don�t look at me like that! It�s been ever since you sold yourself to that company.�
        �Is that all you have to say?�
        �Yes Leo, goddamn it how can you not see this? You�re not the same person; ever since you got that job you�ve changed! You�ve cut your hair, you stopped going out, and when you come home that�s all you talk about, that f*****g job! I never would have done this to the Leo I knew, the Leo who was going to be the next great American novelist, the Leo who went out and sang at the top of lungs in front of complete strangers to serenade me so the walk home wouldn�t be so boring, the Leo who sat with me looking out the window of our apartment and made fun of the suits walking down the street, the Leo I fell in love with.�
        I�m silent for a minute. I speak softly now.
        �Do you know why I got that job?�
        �I�ve been wondering for a while now�
        �So I could afford to give you this.�
        I took the small box out of my jacket pocket and threw it into her lap. She looked at it, looked at me with wide eyes, and opened it. She saw the diamond ring. She looked up at me again, this time with welled up eyes; and this is where I took my exit. I took out my wallet, paid for my steak (and gave a nice big tip for that poor waiter), turned around and left.
        As I walked away from the table I could hear her crying, and by the time I got outside I looked through the front window and I could see her sitting alone in the back of the room; tears streaming from her beautiful, confused, and remorseful blue eyes. I considered a taxi but decided I could use a walk.
        So I walked back to my apartment, and I started thinking. Why the hell did I do that back there? Why did I even go? It didn�t accomplish anything and I knew that it wasn�t going to before I even left. I could have went in there, saved her from being mugged, and then scribble out a poem that would have made Billy Shakespeare cry and it wouldn�t have made a goddamn difference. Sure she was crying back in the restaurant but she�s still going to go back home to Johnny (she�ll cry in his arms, and he�ll tell her that it�ll be alright), and I�m still going to get to my apartment, walk into an empty room, take off this suit, and stare at that mystery stain on my ceiling until my misery lets me fall asleep. And nothing I would�ve done in that restaurant would�ve made a f*****g difference.
        I finally get back to my building, and begin the assent to my top floor. I reach my room, shove my key in the hole, and swing my door open.
        Maya�s standing in the middle of the room; her tear-stained eyes stare back at me.
        �Leo��