Notes
Assignment: -
Warning: 9/11 attacks
The Lookalike
It's a slow Wednesday evening. Regina has already sent Ashley home. She can handle the few tables that are still eating on her own. In the meantime, she can start cleaning up and hopefully close early.
She is polishing a wine glass; holding it up against the light to inspect if there are any smudges left on the crystal and giving it an extra wipe with the towel before hanging it upside down in the holder above the bar when she notices someone new walking into the restaurant from the corner of her eyes. He enters alone, so she assumes—hopes—that he is there to buy a voucher or to make a reservation, but alas. He sits down at the bar, orders a Glenfiddich, and asks for the menu. It doesn't take him long to order the tenderloin, medium-rare, with a side of French fries, but could he get the mushroom-cream sauce separately please.
She types the order in on the computer and then quickly pops her head into the kitchen to apologise for the late order. They too had started cleaning up already.
When she returns to the bar and picks up the next glass, he looks up, directing those sad blue eyes at her. "Today is the anniversary of my wife's death."
On Tuesday morning he woke up to sounds in the bathroom, sounds of Marian getting ready for the day. She walked out in her underwear with her makeup donned and her hair up in a high ponytail. As she grabbed her blouse to put it on, he groaned, reached out and pulled her back to bed. She squealed and landed gracelessly.
"It's too early." His whiny voice sounded gruff from the morning, and he closed his eyes again.
"Not all of us have the luxury of working at home and waking up whenever we want to." She pressed a kiss to his lips and snuggled closer to him. "Although, I am tempted to call in sick and spend the day with you. I'll just blame it on the pregnancy."
He squinted one tired eye open to look at her. "What would we do?"
"We could go baby shopping," she said suggestively, knowing how much he hated to shop.
He groaned loudly and then stretched. "As lovely as that sounds," the sarcasm was clear in his voice, which caused her to laugh loudly, "I should probably write today. I'm behind already."
She pouted, batting her eyelashes at him.
"Oh, don't give me the puppy-dog eyes!" he said as he wrapped her in his arms.
With a sigh, she pushed herself away from him. "In that case, I should continue getting ready. I don't want to be late."
"Rain check this Saturday?"
"She looked a bit like you," he tells her as she places his food in front of him.
She looks surprisingly up at him. "She did?"
He hums an affirmative. "Dark eyes, dark hair, beautiful."
She doesn't really know how to reply to that, apart from a simple thank you.
"I noticed it last time I was here, how much you are alike."
"That's why you came here today?"
He shrugs his shoulders. "I wanted to be as close to her as possible."
She raises an eyebrow at him, not sure what to think of this man who's obviously still grieving.
He chuckles. "You must think I'm crazy."
"Maybe a little."
He laughs at that, and it sounds genuine, as he tells her that he likes her sass. "It's just easier to talk to a stranger than to concerned family members or friends who keep telling you that it'll get better. If you don't mind, of course," he adds quickly.
"And what, all the therapy offices were closed?"
He chuckles again. "Something like that."
"I don't mind," she assures him. "As you can see, I'm not very busy."
"She's everywhere today," he tells her, "Everywhere I look, there she is; her death on display for all to see. And I could have stopped it. It's why I chose this lovely bistro over the pub to get drunk." He pushes his empty glass towards her, and she refills it wordlessly.
She notices him looking at the television screen behind her; the electric flames reflecting in his blue eyes, and she understands. "No live television."
"I much prefer to look at that tedious screen."
He'd had the chance to briefly speak to her over the phone. She assured him that she was fine, that they had evacuated out of precaution, but were sent back to their offices shortly after. She even complained that she had to go all the way back to the eightieth floor.
He had never felt such relief before in his life.
Until he watched live on television how the second plane crashed right into its twin tower.
