11.10 dinner

She laughed, “You’re joking, right? You’re copying me for manners? That has to be a first – I’m probably one of the more classless people you’ve ever met.”
He looked embarrassed, so she quickly added, “I wasn’t laughing at you, I was laughing at the irony of the situation. My frineds mock me all the time for not knowing which fork to use, or stuff like – well – when you’re at a table with a lot of other people, which water glass is yours?”
Finally he broke into a little bit of a smile, and she was encouraged.
“Plus,” she added, “have you ever figured out how to eat a hard dinner roll, like sour dough or something, politely? I remember when I was applying to colleges, one of them that I applied to gave a dinner to honor some of the applicants, while I was visiting. It was really fancy, lots of nice food, everyone was really nicely dressed. So I’m sitting there, with the dean of students on one side, and one of the trustees right across the table, and they serve a basket of sour dough rolls. Well, I understand that you serve yourself a little butter onto your plate, not directly onto the roll. But how exactly do you eat the roll? With your hands? With your knife and fork? Is it polite to break it in half first, or do you have to cut it with your knife?”
He shrugged, but he had a big grin on his face now.
She shrugged in response, “I certainly didn’t know, so I wound up leaving the roll on my bread plate, because I couldn’t figure out how to eat it politely.”
He seemed so entertained that she figured it couldn’t hurt to keep making fun of herself. “That was actually the same dinner where they served us this great looking chocolate pudding for dessert. It served in these great little martini glasses, topped with whipped cream, and there was a silver coin on top. So, you know, you want to save the best for last. So I took the coin off, and put it to the side, and ate the pudding and whipped cream. Then, just as everyone was finishing, I picked the coin up with my fork, and put it into my mouth. And…um… it wasn’t chocolate. It was a real metal reproduction of the school seal. I just about broke my teeth biting down on it, and I definitely made one of the other students at the dinner start choking when he saw what I was doing. Then I had to figure out how to politely spit the coin out into my napkin wihtout anyone realizing what I had just done.”
She shook her head. “That’s what people get out of me when they put me in a “good table manners” situation. I’m completely hopeless.”
Celeste was pretty proud of herself, she’d managed to lighten up the situation, rather than her usual making everyone more uncomfortable than they already were.
They continued chatting lightly, and finished the buffalo wings, and before she knew it, it was ten o’clock.
“I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go,” Celeste excused herself.
“Yeah, me too.” Matt flagged down their waiter, and handed him a credit card.
Celeste tried to offer him some cash, but Matt interupted “No, you’ve gotten me coffee twice and a croissant. I think I can handle a couple beers and some wings. And besides, if you really want to make it up to me, you can buy me lunch on Friday.”
Celeste paused, letting what he just said sink in. “Um, ok.” She suddenly felt completely self-conscious.
Fortunately, the waitress arrived with the bill in time to save her from having to say something. She breathed a sigh of relief for the momentary respite.
Then, it happened. His knee touched hers again, and stayed there, lightly touching. All of Celeste’s attention and feeling rushed to the small spot on her knee where they touched.
Suddenly she realized that Matt was staring at her. She quickly pulled her knee back, so they weren’t touching anymore, and contrived to look innocent.
“Where did you go?” he asked. “I look over and all of a sudden your eyes are glazed over and you have this content little smile on your face.”
“Oh, um,” she blushed. “I just remembered something that I had forgotten, that’s all.”
He smiled at her, and gave her an ‘after you’ gesture out of the booth. She rose to her feet and walked toward the door.
“Thanks for dinner,” she said. “I enjoyed it – much more fun than eating at home by myself.”
And that’s something great to say, Celeste. Now he’s just going to think that you’re here because you don’t have anywhere else to go.
The exited the bar into the chill Boston late-autumn air. Celeste shivered a little, she hadn’t brought a coat. She briskly rubbed her hands up and down her arms, and bounced a little on the balls of her feet.
“Well…” Matt said.
Celeste stopped bouncing, and stood there, arms wrapped around the front of her. “Well…” she said.
“Good night,” he said.
“G’night…” she responded.
They stood looking at one another for a few more seconds, not really having anything else to say, but not quite wanting to go yet either.
Finally, Matt took a step forward, holding out his hand to shake.
At the same time, Celeste took a step forward, and bounced up on her tip-toes to peck him lightly on the cheek.
“Oh, um,” Celeste looked horrified at the hand he was holding out. She looked up at his face, and left hand was pressed to the cheek she’d kissed. “Ah, um… I – um…”
She covered her face with both of her hands, trying to cover up her blushing.
“No,” he said loudly. “That was nice. Thanks!”
She gritted her teeth and forced herself to nod. She pasted a huge, fake smile on her lips, and said in a too-loud, too-boisterous voice, “Well, I’ll see you later!”
“Celeste…” Matt said.
“Nah, I’m fine. Have a good night,” she said as she walked off toward the T station.
Matt stood there on the street in front of the bar for a minute, watching her as she walked away, then he too turned and walked across the street to his apartment building.

Celeste stopped kicking herself long enough to check her voicemail messages before she went underground into the subway. The first message was from Jeanne at quarter after five:
“Celeste, you’re not home. Obviously. I got home early tonight, and I’m making dinner if you want any. We’re having stir-fry. It’ll be ready in about an hour.”
The next message was Jeanne again:
“Celeste, you’re still not home. Still obviously. It’s eight-thirty, and I’m getting a little worried, give me a call back.”
The third message was Jessica:
“Celeste, Jeanne’s called me twice looking for you. Call her back!”
And then one from her mother:
“Celeste, this is mom. I don’t know where you’re at or why you’re not answering, but Jeanne called me to find out where you were. Please give me a call when you get this. Love you.”
And finally, Jeanne again:
“Celeste, I’m at Jessica’s. I don’t know where you are, but it’s ten o’clock and you’re never out this late. Give me a call over there when you get this.”

Celeste rolled her eyes at Jeanne’s excesses – it wasn’t like she was six, after all, and needed to be taken care of every minute. And it wasn’t like ten o’clock was unbelieveably late, either. Just…later than usual. Which wasn’t a bad thing, really.
She dialed Jessica’s number. The phone rang twice before Scott picked it up.
“Hey Scott,” Celeste said.
“Celeste! Thank God you’re all right!” he sounded terribly over-dramatic. “We were concerned that you were murdered by some knife-wielding, girl killing, maniac.”
Celeste snorted. “So Jeanne’s been there a while, then?”
“Just a second,” he said, “let me put her on.” In a quiet voice, he muttered, “Celeste, if you make her come over here like this again, I’ll personally be your knife-wielding maniac so that at least she has something to really worry about.”
Celeste was laughing at such a ludicrous threat as Jeanne picked up the phone.
“Celeste! Thank God you’re all right!” Jeanne said. When Scott said it, you could tell he was being one hundred percent sarcastic. When Jeanne said it, however, it rang with the same tone of reproach that her mother’s voice did after Celeste did something really stupid and dangerous while growing up.
“I’m fine, Jeanne. I was meeting with my new boss to discuss some questions I had about the book, and the indexing procedures, and I turned my phone off so it wouldn’t ring while we were talking.”
“God, Celeste, you could have at least left a note or something to let me know what you were doing, you’re never out this late. I called your mom, I was that worried.”
“I know you were worried and I’m sorry. I would have left a note if I thought I was going to be out this late, but I thought it would only take a hour or so,” Celeste responded.