Page 23 (1/2)

Waitresses are adept at reading body language So are wives who’ve lived under the sary drunks And I had been both, a wife for fourteen years and a waitress for almost four Part of my job was to know, sometimes even before customers did, what they wanted I could do that with my ex, too, anticipate exactly what he wanted the second he cah the door And yet whenever I tried to turn that skill on myself, to anticipate my own needs, I couldn’t

I hadn’t planned to becoot the job at Café Rose after rief to anger to a kind of numb limbo, I waited I waited on people, I waited on time, I waited on life Still, I actually kind of likedin a place like Café Rose, in a city like New Orleans, you get your regulars, your favorites and a few you try to pawn off on your co-workers Dell couldn’t stand serving the local eccentrics because they were bad tippers But I overheard the best stories So we had a trade-off I would take the eccentrics and the musicians if she waited on the students, or anyone with babies and strollers

My absolute favorites were the couples, this one couple in particular Strange et butterflies whenever they walked in The woman was in her late thirties, beautiful in the way so skin, short hair, and yet she had an undeniably feuy she always came in with, had an open face, with brown hair shaved close to his head He was tall with a lean, lithe body, and a little younger than her, I think Neither the s, so I wasn’t sure about the exact nature of their relationship But whatever it was, it was inti sex or were heading to do just that after a quick lunch

Every tiuy would place his elbows on the table, opening up his hands to face her She’d wait a beat, then gently place her elbows on the table in front of his, and they’d suspend their hands, palentle force preventing theot cheesy or was noticeable to anyone but ers would interlock He would kiss the tips of her fingers, now framed by the backs of his hands, one after the other Always left to right She would smile All this happened quickly, so quickly, before they’d separate their hands and scan theto watch, triggered a deep, fah it was his hand caressing mine, or my forearm, my wrist

The life I’d lived held no such longings Tenderness wasn’t faency My ex-husband, Scott, could be kind and generous when he was sober, but towards the end, when his drinking had hi but After he died, I cried for all the pain he had been in and all the pain he had caused, but I didn’tatrophied in me, then died, and soon five years had passed since I’d had sex Five Years I often thought of this accidental celibacy like it was a skinny old dog, left with no choice but to follow , trotting on its toes When I tried on clothes, Five Years lay panting on the floor of the change roo my attempt to look prettier in a new dress Five Years also parked itself beneath every table of every tepid date I went on, slumped at my feet

None of the dates I’d been on had led un to believe “it” would never happen again To be wanted, to be craved, the way this n e I’d never learn, with subtitles that were becoly blurry

“Third date,”next to Will behind the pastry counter, where he iping dishwasher spots off the glasses He had noticedthe couple And I noticed his ar a plaid shirt, rolled to the elbows, his forearh ere just friends, every once in a while I was a little shaken by his sexiness, enhanced by the fact that he was completely oblivious to it

“Maybe fifth date, don’t you think? Is that how long wo?”

“I wouldn’t know”

Will rolled his dark blue eyes atabout my lack of dates

“Those tere like that fro back at my couple “They’re totally into each other”

“I give them six months,” Will said

“Cynic,” I replied, shaking my head

We often did this, speculated on the iinary relationship between two custo, a way to pass the time