The Introduction

Delilah arrives at the unknown restaurant first. She’s carrying a brown shoulder purse over her left shoulder, gripping the strap in her right hand. Her left hand is buried into her favorite rustic red winter coat. She’d chosen to go for a scraggly bun that morning, staring out the window for a few moments in frustration when nothing else had worked out. 

Delilah watches around the restaurant as she searches for a familiar face. Not even a familiar face, since they’d never actually met in person before. She would just have to know that she had the right person when they arrived. The hostess scrolls for a second on her old computer before standing and leading her to a table just off from the bar. It was a unlucky coincidence since she had just joined the community “Sobriety club.” 

“Would you like to get started with an appetizer?” The robust waitress asks, leaning over and handing a floppy menu. Delilah considers for a second before shaking her head and placing the copy on the table. 

“If it’s okay, I’ll wait just a few more minutes.” 

“First date?” The waitress smiles knowingly, lingering for a second at the table. Delilah flushes slightly and shakes her head quickly, fingers wrapping around her necklace. She was always quick to reach toward it for comfort. 

“Just meeting a friend.” The waitress nods slyly and steps off with a reminder that she’ll be back once they get here. Delilah smiles back before returning to watching her surroundings carefully. She always told her friends she was a very observant person, finding pride in noticing things before others did. However, tonight, her eyes were flitting between every face in the restaurant so quickly she didn’t have time to observe any of them. Her feet tapping against the floor were the result of a nervous tic. Delilah only stops when she locks eyes with the only other person in the restaurant to walk in with their eyes turning to the people around them.

Reynard’s receding hairline is covered by his late-grandfather’s hat. He’d left his apartment a couple minutes early this morning to pick it up from his sister’s, where he’d forgotten it the night before. His face is full of concern for only a moment before he and Delilah catch each other’s eyes. He gives her a testing wave and nods to himself when she nods back. At least they’ve confirmed they know each other now. 

The hostess looks back at the table when she greets Reynard and allows him to walk himself over. He hesitates at the edge of his chair and Delilah rushes to her feet in response. Her arm is outstretched before he has time to muster up his name, 

“Hello,” she says nervously, her other hand reaching self-consciously towards her hair,

“It’s Renold? I’m Delilah, we spoke on the phone yesterday.” Reynard stares uncomfortably at her hand and wraps his own around his shoulders. His tendency for hesitation about telling personal facts often places himself in awkward positions. They stand there for a second while Reynard debates between telling her about his disliking for physical contact or the fact that his name isn’t Renold. As he often does, Renyard believes he can only reveal one to preserve the pleasant conversation.

“I’m not fond of handshakes...” His voice is faint and Delilah stares blankly at him for a moment before it comes to her and she rushes to sit down.

“No worries, no worries at all. My cousin doesn’t like them either. I’m just glad you could meet me here.” Renyard nods awkwardly and sits as well, his hands folding together on the table in front of him. They stare at each other for a second while both thinks of how to bring up their topic of conversation. 

“More water?” A waitress offers her pitcher, 

“No thank you.” 

Reynard speaks first for the both of them, surprising for his tendency of timidness. 

“I don’t want to keep you here long, I just felt we could talk better here in person...”

Delilah stops pretending to observe the crystal vase in between their plates and looks up with a hint of apprehension. She isn’t prepared for the fear she’s had all month to become something real. When it’s just you it’s less intimidating than knowing another person shares your feelings. 

“No, I agree with you. I’m glad you got the courage to call my number.” She looks around the room for a second again, 

“I was sure it couldn’t just be me that was experiencing it.” Reynard looks at her, his feet sliding along the floor below him. He’s waiting for his own confirmation, 

“What... were you experiencing?” He and Delilah make tense eye contact and both turn towards their plates. Their waitress returns and collects their menus while scribbling down their orders. She leaves them with a basket of breadsticks. Reynard won’t grab one until Delilah does, he doesn’t want to seems greedy. Delilah won’t take one until Reynard gets first pick, it’s the manners she was raised with.

“I’ve never eaten here before...” Delilah tries to procrastinate a little longer but relents when Reynard gives no response. 

“I... have someone... watching me. I think.” Reynard turns grey, his doubts turned into truths. 

“You have someone watching you too. Because if you don’t, then how did you end up with my number and why did you call me to have this meeting?” It sounds like an accusation, but Delilahs expression of trust is too much to be fake. Reynard wipes at his brow, eyeing the breadsticks,

“I knew I wasn’t crazy... What have you been experiencing? Dead birds? Clothes gone missing? Letters cut out of your newspaper...” 

“Yes. I’ve gotten letters too, mailed from addresses I know but no one is confessing. I thought it was a prank until it kept happening again and again. I got a letter so specific about this club I’ve been attending, it has to be someone following us.” 

Delilah and Reynard stare at each other again and this time they both pull out their letters from their pockets. They lay them out flat on the table and stare silently as they confirm, 

“This was made by the same person.” Reynard’s face falls flat and Delilah lifts his paper tenderly up to observe. She shifts in her seat and taps her foot against the floor again, this time much more urgently. The waitress makes her way across the floor and sets down a steaming bowl in front of Reynard. 

“I’ll be right back with yours.” She promises Delilah and she gets a faint smile in return. The two sit concerningly quiet, each pondering the possibilities. 

“Renold...” Delilah asks tenderly, “what else did your letter tell you to do beyond call my number.?” Reynards hand stalls on its way up to his forehead. He considers it for a moment before looking up into her eyes, 

“It told me to meet with you somehow...” Delilah shifts forwards in her seat,

“I thought you might be my stalker for a moment. That’s why I didn’t call you for so long. I’d forgotten...”

Delilah pushes back her chair quickly, it’s heels screeching against the squeaky floor. Reynard looks up in alarm as she crosses to his seat in one stride. 

“I’m sorry. But is there a way you have another place we can talk? I just haven’t felt right here...” Reynard glances around the restaurant quickly and then pushes himself up as well. 

“I haven’t paid the restaurant yet...” 

“I’ll come back later, pay them then.” With the slightest hint of hesitation, Reynard scooped up the scattered letters off the table. They looked around to the hostess table to confirm it was empty and then shuffled their way to the door. No one looked up to see them slip out. 

A cold gust of wind brushed through the restaurant as the doors closed behind the pair. It sat silently inside for a second before the waitress returned to the table with their second bowl and stood confused for a second. Her face turned to anger as she slammed the bowl down and whipped around to the kitchen.

The ice cubes clink against the glass in a refreshing sip. More of the restaurant staff are starting to notice the two who slipped the bill. If they’d stuck around just a little longer they would have avoided the mess of being accused of not paying. They would have both been able to eat a breadstick if they’d stuck around longer. I wish they would have stayed longer. Then I would have had time for my own introduction.