It all stands on a handshake.
Chapter TextThree hundred people. Three hundred people just walked out of my speech and this stupid diner doesn't have anything but beer… I want to get as Zach would say, white girl wasted, anything to forget watching all those people stand up and walk out. I'm four beers in when I see the bitchy waitress walking my way again with HIM behind her. He tries to see if there's another table available but the only one is the one next to me. Oh goody I can add some awkward and uncomfortable silence to my meal as if I needed anything else. I remember the awkward meeting in the pizza parlor, and my resolution to figure this out with him. He orders a scotch and I'm tipsy enough to feel helpful and inform him that they only have beer, she takes his order and then we're alone. I complain about how difficult it is to get drunk on beer. In a condescending tone he tells me I just have to try harder. I'm feeling shitty so I'm up to the challenge tonight. When he comments on my mood and assures me that it was closer to 400, in an ever so helpful tone. It's the proverbial straw that breaks the camel's back and I'm pissed off and tipsy enough to ask him straight out
"Why do you hate me?"
The incredulous look on his face throws me and for a few seconds I wait expectantly. He enlightens me that he does not hate me it's a feeling stronger than dislike but not as intense as hate. I look at him and I know that I really do love this man but I have no idea how we would have made it work. And at this moment I really just want my friend back I'm not worried about the rest I really miss my friend. Had this been a year ago he would have helped me get drunk and commiserated with me about my speech eh would have tried to make me laugh, I'm pretty sure he would have found me some tequila. But instead we're here. Where ever this is. Somewhere between awkward, angry and heartbroken. As I listen it makes me even more sad, he's still reassuring me even after everything he's reminding me that I can be a tough competitor to him and that I'm "a big girl" I think it hurts worse than if he would have just told me he hated me. I need this man in my life and not just to fight I need this man and I need him now. The only thing that keeps me from breaking is the thought that I promised him to be there when he was "broke and lying in an alley somewhere" I'll do something nice for him. I offer him my hand a sign of a truce, an agreement to coexist. When he takes my hand it gives me hope, we aren't exactly where we need to be but we are where we are and at least its stable it's something we can build on. And that's how we stand, on a handshake.
He follows the unpleasant waitress through the crowded restaurant. When he see the table she's headed for it makes him stop. He turns to the waitress to ask for another table but she's gone. And just like in the pizza parlor he's stuck… He sits down with the menu and asks for a scotch. Helpful as ever Alicia informs him that they only have beer. You can tell she's in a mood, he can't really blame her considering that four hundred people walked out on her keynote speech, he obligingly corrects her when she mentions the three hundred people that walked out on her. It's a small dig but he still takes pleasure in seeing her discomfort, he knows it's stupid but eh it is what it is… He still not sure he heard her correctly when she asks him why he hates her even more so when she asks him why…
"Are you serious?"
He really can't even stop the words from coming out, he really can't believe that she asked him that. He knows that he loves her but really is she that dense? Does she really not get it? Maybe that was his fault maybe he should have been clearer, maybe he should have told her what was in the voicemail. Maybe things would have been different. When the waitress comes back you can tell Alicia really wants to tell her off but good girl Alicia won't do it, not until I dare her to do it,
"If you wanna say bitch, say bitch"
I didn't think she'd really do it, but once she does I can tell she needed to and that she kind of feels a little bit better. When she offers me her hand as a truce it takes me a moment to consider it. If she's not mine I can't say I want to call a truce, it's easier to hate her than want to be with her all the time. I don't want to touch her knowing that they'll be a flash that will burn for days. But I take her offered hand thinking it's a start, thinking that anywhere is better than this place we're in. When I think about it, it's enough, for now we stand on a handshake.