Chapter 20: Terms

The restaurant had white tablecloths, and candles in small glass jars, and a hostess who said "Corliss, for two" without looking at her book.

Sam had put on a dark blue shirt, and I had put on a green dress I had been saving for no reason.

We were seated by the window.

I sat down and picked up the menu, and found I could not read it.

"Something wrong?" Sam said.

"I've never been here."

"Neither have I."

"That's what I mean. I had this reservation once."

"I heard."

"From who?"

"The whole floor of my building knows what Travis did on your birthday," Sam said. "I looked it up on the way home that night.

"They had a table at seven that was free, on a Thursday. I thought, someone should sit at it."

"That's the nicest thing a man has ever done for me," I said, "and it's also a little stalker-ish."

"I'm aware."

"Keep going."

He smiled, and the candle caught it.

The waiter came, and I ordered the first thing I recognized, and Sam ordered the same.

We ate, and it was very good.

For a while we talked about nothing.

He told me about the baseball years, and the summer his father made him drive a truck.

I told him about my grandmother's greenhouse in Newark, and the first time I killed a gardenia and cried for an hour.

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