I’ve never actually thought about eating at La Dolce Vita, an upscale restaurant in the city. Alexis and I have driven by it a number of times. We’ve even stopped and looked at the menu. And she’d always mention how nice it would be to try it out. Of course, every time I would agree convincingly enough so she believed me. I just didn’t have the money to go in. Or if I had the money, I didn’t want to waste it on a fancy meal in which the portions are too small. And then I’d need to go grab a cheesesteak after we leave, because I’m still hungry. Special occasions have passed, such as Valentine’s Day and birthdays, when I had to lie to her and say they were all booked up. And I honestly felt bad about that. Well, I didn’t feel much remorse at the time, but now that I think about it, I do.
But this evening is different. For the first time I actually made a reservation at a restaurant. It’s a special day. Probably the biggest day in my life. Bigger than any promotion could possibly be.
The restaurant is completely tranquil. Much different than Red Lobster. Sounds like people are having important conversations, not raucous shouting competitions. As I sit here ready to take a huge step, I can’t stop sweating like a Vietnam vet who’s come home and can’t kick his heroin addiction. I’m about to sweat right through this rented shirt, which brings up more anxiety, because I’m thinking I might have overdone it with the black tuxedo, patent-leather shoes, and top hat. I bet I look like the Planters peanut. Where’s she at? It’s not like her to not be on time. Let me ask the waiter how I look, since we’ve become well acquainted now that he’s pouring my third glass of water.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
I’m not positive that was his honest response or if he felt some sense of obligation. I went with it anyway.
“Do I look overdressed to you?”
He looks me up and down. “Hmm . . . are you in some sort of play?”
“No,” I say.
“A dramatic reenactment of a seventeenth-century magic show?”
“No.”
“Well, I would lose the top hat. You’re coming off a little Ben Vereen–ish.”
I tuck the top hat underneath the table, and at that moment here she is, looking as beautiful as ever, walking up to the hostess, who points to my table. My nerves lead me to waving her over, as if she couldn’t find me sitting there all by myself. I get up and pull her chair out. She looks surprised by my good manners, but I normally treat her well. It’s not like I don’t open doors for her sometimes or shit like that.
“Beginning to think you weren’t going to show,” I joke.
“Sorry, ran a little late. Some things came up last minute,” she says.
“With work?”
“Sure.” She looks at my outfit. “Why are you dressed like the Planters peanut?” The waiter nods as he pours her water.
I laugh uncontrollably. We’re so in sync. I’m definitely making the right decision.
“Why are we here? Are you cheating on me?” she says.
“No, baby. What? No. I only wanted to do something nice.”
She keeps looking around, as if she’s more nervous than I am. She picks up her menu. “Do you already know what you want to order?”
I grab the menu from her. “Before we order, I have something important to tell you. And I’d rather get it out of the way, because I really won’t be able to eat if I wait till the end.”
She’s speechless.
“You picked a real grade-A classy place for dinner, Kev. They weren’t even gonna let me in without shoes,” says Robbie, who’s now standing at our table, wearing lime-green flip-flops.
“What are you doing—”
“Do you mind? I saw him on my way here. So I invited him. He looked really hungry,” Alexis interrupts.
“Oh, okay . . . whatever,” I reply. This really throws me off. It’s a public restaurant, but I didn’t think I’d have an audience that included Robbie. I’m gonna have to get through this anyway. Stick to my plan.
“Can you give us a moment?” she asks Robbie. She must sense my uneasiness.
“Sure, but is that a top hat underneath the table?” he says.
“Please,” I say. He walks away. I look around and know it’s time for me to say what I need to. “Now that we’re alone.” I get out of my head and make a move to get down on one knee. My back cracks. I really need to work out more. As I lower myself, it feels like everyone in the restaurant stops what they’re doing to fix their eyes on me. Alexis’s gasp can be heard throughout the silent room.
She looks so beautiful, like a young Halle Berry, sitting there with her caramel complexion, getting flush as she realizes what I’m doing. “Oh my goodness!” she says.
I continue through the embarrassment caused from the audience. “I know I haven’t been the model boyfriend in the past, but I’ve been trying to improve. And I’ve made strides . . . huge strides.” I pause for her to agree. Her face is still blank. “I love you very much. You inspire me to be a better person. And not to let people rent DVDs using my membership card. You make me want to try a little bit harder. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Alexis Martin.”
I reach into my jacket pocket and take out a ring box. “Will you make me whole?” That really was the least corny thing I could think of between the time I bought the ring this morning and now.
Her eyes light up as she looks at the ring. Her mouth’s wide-open momentarily, until she finds enough air in her lungs to shout, “Yes! Yes! Oh yes!”
The waiters, hostess, busboys, diners, and even cooks applaud. I think a few dishwashers came from the kitchen to clap as well. I smile from ear to ear. This is the best moment of my life. It went even better than I envisioned. Robbie comes back to the table and notices the commotion.
“What’s going on? Did you . . .” says Robbie, with a confused look on his face.
“We’re getting married, man. She said yes,” I shout at Robbie, as I place both of my hands on his shoulders and shake him.
“Really?” he replies. Then, he glares at Alexis.
“Oh, shoot, I forgot. I have something to tell you,” she says.
I’m not really paying attention to her. In my head I’m thinking my heart is fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings after it accidentally drank nectar laced with cocaine. I’m still caught up in the excitement and can’t believe she said yes. How could she possibly say no, right? What woman wouldn’t want this elaborate, romantic proposal?
“Robbie and I . . . well, me and Robbie . . . have been seeing each other. I came tonight to break up with you,” she says.
I witness her mouth move, but I didn’t hear the words she communicates. Or my brain didn’t allow me to process them at regular speed. Eventually I utter a “what?”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she says.
“What?” I know, but that’s the only word that’s running through my head. “How?”
Alexis looks at Robbie and shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know. I think it’s been about three months,” she says.
“No, he’s not asking how long. He’s asking how do we have sex,” Robbie says.
“Three months? Right under my nose?” I say.
“Okay, you were right, my tender roni,” Robbie says.
“It’s been a great three months,” she says as the backstabbers share a warm glance.
“But I’m ready to commit,” I say.
“That’s fantastic and all, but I don’t want you,” she says.
“Oh shit,” I hear a random man in the background shout.
“Damn, she ain’t have to say it like that,” a female diner says.
“Robbie, though?” I say, as I get up and point to him. I can’t believe she’s been cheating on me. And with my friend. How cliché. Should I be fuming angry and punch him in the face? I’m unclear on the protocol with this. “You know, he probably peed in the bathroom sink when he went in there, right?”
She gets up and grabs his hand. “You’re not for me.” And just like that they both walk out of the restaurant. Everyone who was once cheering for me waits to see how I react.
A waiter tells a waitress, “That was the most fucked-up shit I’ve ever seen.”
“That had to be a practical joke,” the waitress replies. “How can you shit on someone’s heart like that?”
“It’s real, look at his sorry-ass face. That’s authentic sadness right there. You only get that when your soul is burning.”
“Pitiful.”
It’s funny when someone is publicly humiliated. The audience tends to think they’re watching TV and the main character can’t hear them. It’s the total opposite. I can hear everyone’s chatter and follow each conversation. Everything they say and some stuff they don’t say.
A patron walks up to the hostess. He’s totally oblivious as to what has happened. “Pardon me, but someone has taken a shit in the sink in the men’s bathroom.”