Chapter 4 – Digestive Break
In the washroom, Al bleakly stared at himself in the mirror. "What a load of rubbish," he muttered. "Another bloody cock-up." He felt like most of the evening had been a waste of time. He was trying to act more like his fictional-ego Colin. Someone who was… he searched for the word. Smooth; that was the proper word. "A proper job is Colin," he said softly. "Proper in all ways. Money as well. Right."
Then he looked at himself more intently. "Who am I kidding?"
For the reality of his life, all his many failures and false starts stared back at him. He knew too well the feeling of personal defeat, as it once more rose over his head in an ice-cold wave. "Oh, what's the use? Well, at least the food's been good."
He heard a toilet flush, and in a few seconds a stranger was washing his hands at the wash basin next to where he stood.
The young man glanced at Al and nodded. "Hey."
Al nodded back. "Mate."
The man smiled at him.
"Yes?" Al asked warily.
"Smashing job on that choker."
"Thanks," Al replied.
"Handy skill. One of my mates had to do CPR on his uncle. Poor duffer keeled right over on the football pitch."
"Oh?" Al cleared his throat. "Did the fellow pull through?"
"Yeah," the man replied. "So… what you did."
"Heimlich Maneuver."
The man dried his hands on a paper towelette, wadded up the used item, then launched it towards the bin, making a perfect shot into the opening. "Good show. Something I ought to be learning, as well as the CPR. Cheers."
Al nodded at him then watched him leave. Al turned back to face the mirror, and adjusted his tie. "Well, at least something's gone right this evening." He dried his hands and left the loo, prepared for the streak of bad luck that followed him to greet him like the old companion that it was.
000
Morwenna, Morwenna, she thought to herself. She twisted her hands together, shaking her head at how badly things had gone so far. Oh, certainly things had progressed infinitely better than when she met Mike Pruddy for a drink. "Poor Mike," she said. "Back in the Army. Probably scrubbing toilets in the prison block. Ah well." She finished with her toilet, set her clothing to rights, and then left the stall to wash her hands.
She was touching up her lipstick when the door opened and the waitress came in. "Hi," Morwenna told her.
"An exciting time tonight."
"Sorry about that, the uhm…" she tossed her head towards the dining room.
"You and your boyfriend saved that man."
"He's not my boyfriend," Morwenna answered, "leastwise not yet. And somebody would have stepped up."
"Well," the woman replied, "you beat me to it. I had to do that once to my daughter. Poor little thing was choking on a carrot stick."
"Oh dear."
"She was only three. I was pregnant with my second, about six months along, at the time. I tried to…" she paused.
Morwenna saw her wince. "Must have been scary."
The waitress sighed deeply. "My fella was away on a fishing holiday with his da."
Morwenna watched while the woman dabbed her eyes with a towel.
Shaking, the woman continued, "I… tried to squeeze her, but my belly kinda got in the way. So, anyway, I grabbed her ankles, held up her upside down and shook her."
"And that worked."
She sighed. "Yes."
Morwenna grinned. "Scary having kids."
"You got any? Children?"
"Me? No. Not yet." She bit her lip for she was waiting for the right man.
The woman considered Morwenna's expression. "Well he seems a nice bloke. A nice-looking bloke, as well."
That made Morwenna giggle. "Yes, he is, isn't he?"
The woman binned the crumpled towel. "You two from around here?" the waitress asked as she washed her hands.
"Portwenn."
"Nice little village."
Morwenna looked at her watch. "Better go back, before he runs away."
The woman laughed. "From the looks he's been giving you, luv, I don't think he's likely to do that."
Morwenna grinned. "Have to see how it goes."
"Good luck then," the woman said.
"Thanks."
000
Taking that piece of advice at face value, Morwenna returned to the table to see Al craning his neck, but he smiled when she sat down.
"Ah, you're back," he said with relief.
Morwenna raised her eyebrows. "Did you think I might bolt?"
Al shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. "It… uhm, it could happen."
She grinned. "Not planning on running off. We haven't had afters yet."
Al smiled. "Good, good." He leaned forward. "Now maybe…"
"Maybe what?"
Al took a deep breath. "Maybe…"
Morwenna lean closer to him. "Maybe what?"
Al screwed up his face. "I was thinking…"
"Yes?" Morwenna brightened.
Al opened his mouth to speak when the restaurant host seemed to pop up out of nowhere, suddenly appearing right by Al's elbow.
"Excuse me," the man said, "sorry to interrupt."
Al's face fell. "What?" he said with irritation. Damn, he thought. Never a private moment.
Morwenna crossed her arms. Always a bloody interruption, she thought.