Stacy was enthusiastic enough to wear a dress to dinner. She stopped at home to get Mark, and spent a few minutes cleaning herself up in the bathroom mirror, choosing new shoes and a new scarf to go with her old dress, to try to achieve a slightly fresher look than the usual post-work, grungy Stacy.

She sang along with the oldies on the radio as they turned the corner, heading into the "Chow Fat" parking lot. Mark watched contemplatively out of the window, remaining pensively silent until Stacy parked the car and swung open the driver's side door. Crossing to assist him, she waited until he was comfortably settled into his chair before wheeling him through the crowded front entrance of the restaurant.

It looked like she'd made a good choice in making a reservation. The restaurant, relatively new to the area, was packed, and Stacy gave herself a little mental pat on the back for being on top of the local eating trends. After a moment, a waitress approached them with two menus under her arm, and gestured them to follow her to their table. Stacy wheeled mark through and around the tables, past the booths until they came to a seat beside the windows, looking out on a packed parking lot.

"Great view," Mark muttered, as the waitress took her leave. Stacy chuckled. She leafed through her menu, stopping on a traditional plate of beef with broccoli, always a winner. As she turned to Mark to ask him what he was planning to order, she found his menu unopened, lying on the table in front of him. His eyes had drifted across the room to a table at which sat a young couple and their child, who was playing raucously on the seat beside them.

"Mark?" Stacy asked, leaning in towards him snapping his attention back to the menu. He shook his head as she opened it for him, and sighed.

"Everyone is staring at me," he said unhappily. Stacy glanced around. All eyes were focused on their menus, their dates, or their children, at least as far as she could tell.

"No one is staring at you," she assured him, returning to the menu. "You know, I think the noodles look really good. You could start off with them and then share a plate of beef and broccoli with me, I'm sure it'll be more than I usually eat." Her finger rested on the appetizer she'd suggested, and Mark nodded curtly.

"Sure, sounds fine." He shot another furtive glance at the family at the opposite table before settling back against his booth seat, resting his hands in front of him on the table. "So," he said, "You wanted to talk."

Stacy wasn't sure how to respond to that. She was at a loss for what to talk about. It had seemed such a natural thing, to go to a restaurant with her husband, and to bond. "Well," she said, "I mean, we don't seem to ever have time for each other anymore. We don't talk, not really, not like communicate. I just thought we could go out and enjoy each other' company for once. You know?"

"Sure," Mark agreed, with a curt nod. "So. What do you want to talk about?"

"I…want to talk about you, I guess," Stacy floundered for something to say. "What you've been up, what's been on your mind. I feel like I barely know you anymore."

The waitress came at that moment to ask what they'd be eating. Stacy placed their order, and asked for two glasses of water. She never drank soda anymore, trying to get the excess sugar out of her diet. Mark glanced quizzically at her when she ordered a water for him, as well, but didn't speak up.

"I wanted a coke," he said, after the waitress had left. Stacy shrugged. "I'm sorry, honey, do you want me to call her back?" He shook his head. Stacy frowned. "If you wanted a coke, you should have said you wanted a coke. We can ask for one when she brings the food."

They sat for a few more moments in silence. "So," Stacy asked, "Re-introduce me to the Mark I've been so far from lately. What have you been up to?"

Mark shrugged. "Nothing." He drew a circle idly with one finger on the table, and looked up at Stacy's intent eyes. "Nothing interesting. Reading the paper. Watching television. The same things bored, damaged men usually do with their unvalued time."

"I value your time," Stacy started with a sigh, "I'm busy, Mark, I've got a job. Maybe we could take a week off, go on vacation." She smiled. "You mentioned it a couple of weeks ago. Sure why don't we go to New York for a few days. I've been thinking about it, it sounds like fun. We don't even have to tell anyone, we could just go. Make it our secret getaway." She winked at him, but he shrugged.

"If you could get away," he said, noncommittal. "I wouldn't want to impose on your rigorous schedule."

Frustrated, Stacy rested her chin in the palm of one hand. The waitress returned with two glasses of water. Mark stared expectantly at Stacy, who waited, and then eventually said "I'm sorry, ma'am, can we also have a coke, please?" As the waitress walked away, Stacy glared at Mark. "Just what is going on with you today?"

"Nothing," he said, with a shrug. "Nothing is going on with me today that hasn't been going on with me for months. I'm not surprised that you haven't noticed." He sipped the water that she'd ordered for him despite his apparent misgivings.

Stacy threw up her hands. "So enlighten me! What have I missed? What do I need to know that you're incensed about me being away from?"

Mark didn't answer. He sipped his water, played with his napkin, and watched the child in the opposite seat. Stacy waited, taking as many deep breath as she could fit into the pause, as slowly as she could. Finally, Mark shrugged again, and gave her a look that was both innocent and accusatory.

"Nothing," he said. "Nothing at all."

Stacy felt herself getting angry. The frustration had built up into a wave of irritation, almost to the point of nausea. "Look," she said, flicking a tendril of hair back across her face, "this was a bad idea. Forget it. I'm sorry I tried to draw you out of your self-obsessed stupor long enough to reconnect with you. Forgive me, Mark, would you?"

She got up angrily and stepped around her seat, leaving the table and heading for the exit. Mark called after her, sounding startled. "Where are you going?"

She didn't answer, because she didn't know. Striding towards the door, she realized that they'd come in one car. She could take hers, and leave Mark stranded at the restaurant, but it seemed a little bit extreme. Pulling her cell phone out of her pocket, she called a cab, and stood with her back against the wall of the restaurant, waiting. After a moment or so, she heard the sound of wheels creaking behind her, and turned around, expecting to find Mark coming out to find her.

Instead, it was an old man, being pushed by a young woman, heading out towards his car. He caught her eye as he left the restaurant, giving her a strange look before breaking their gaze. Stacy turned back to the street, trying to remember to take deep breaths. She should go back inside, she thought. She should go back and smooth everything over. But she didn't.