A Dish Served Cold
In Shane's defense, Oliver did start it.
More or less.
He claimed it was an accident but she wasn't convinced by his protestation. Although his denial sounded sincere, the slight tweaking at the corner of his mouth cast a shadow of doubt over his words and suggested guilt. Worse, the twinkle in his eye suggested something set apart from innocent. After all, the moment of affliction was right there in the road in front of them and she was sure they had both seen it. Was it deliberate?
In Oliver's defense, the result of the moment of affliction was humorous and the tweaking of his mouth a natural reaction. He had resisted the smile for her sake, but his feeling of mirth had been exposed even though it offered no proof of culpability.
So, the truth of what would be known as the pot-hole incident for the rest of eternity would forever be known but never proven.
Wednesday night had been added to their list of weekly date nights, making a total of three not counting when they cooked for each other. Truth be told, Oliver cooked, Shane thawed and heated, but they always enjoyed each other. This Wednesday was a semi-special occasion as Papa Joe was in town and they would join him at Ester's, a very comfortable upscale restaurant with a spectacular night view of downtown Denver.
Wednesday had been a long day, with multiple bins of lost, misdirected, and missing postage refugees of the Postal System left to sit waiting anxiously for the Postables to serve redemption. In her defense, Shane was tired and her feet hurt. Oliver had been helping Norman and Rita all afternoon and was, in his expressed opinion, disheveled. Disheveled is defined as a Windsor knot that had become a slack and drooping loop and a collar that was unbuttoned. Shane had stopped for a break and was sitting at her floating work station rubbing one of her feet when Oliver stopped in front of her, hands on hips, and had proclaimed, "I am not happy."
"So then which one of the seven are you?" Shane had asked. She would later deny that she made the comment out of frustration.
It was, to borrow a word from contemporary comedy, a burn and Oliver's gasp was audible. The net result being that everything from that point on may or may not have been a fight. Which brings us back to Wednesday night.
Oliver was driving, humming softly to himself, relaxing while the FM offered Jordan Feliz – The River. Shane was fastidiously reapplying her lipstick, a wonderful shade called Sassy Mauve which blended beautifully with her skin tones and blonde hair. For the record, the suspension on a Jaguar is a marvel of engineering that will absorb sudden shocks and gently spread them around the entire frame of the car to minimize abrupt inertial changes in direction. But it was a large pot-hole so a certain degree of up-thrust came from the street, up through the seat and into Shane's hand.
Half of her upper lip was perfect. But at the center of her mouth that changed into a vertical line of Sassy Mauve that crossed one nostril, turned at the bridge of her nose and made a perfect half circle under her right eye until it touched the brow. What followed was the aforementioned protestations of innocence and that pesky tweaking at the corner of Oliver's mouth.
Shane did what she could with tissue but made a bee-line for the Ladies Room as soon as they reached Ester's. Oliver found his father waiting for them and sat, no longer hiding the smile but enjoying the humour openly. By the time Shane reached the table and Oliver politely pulled her chair for her, Papa Joe and Oliver were both trying to hide smiles. Shane had already found the humor in the situation, but the subtle mockery was mildly poignant. Also a bit irritating.
When Papa Joe asked about work, Oliver laughed, trying to lighten the mood and told his dad that Shane had referred to him as one of Snow White's Seven. Shane laughed, releasing tension. When she got up a few minutes later to make another run for the Powder Room, she stopped and kissed Oliver's cheek. Papa Joe smiled at the affection, Oliver smiled at the affection, then Shane picked a mushroom out of Oliver's salad and stuffed the stem into his ear.
"You are such a fungi," she said, giving him another kiss.
When Papa Joe laughed, wine came out his nose.
