The Girl in the Glasses

“Table for one?” asks the hostess. I walked in the Olive Garden alone, with a single rose and a freshly ironed suit. “No, thank you. Two please,” I respond, smiling. I’m really excited for my date tonight.

She grabs two menus and motions. “Right this way, please”. I follow the hostess, and she sits me in a nice booth tucked away in a corner of the restaurant. It’s a cloudy day, but that’s perfect for the soft Olive Garden ambient lighting. I take a deep breath and try to steady my nerves. This is going to be my one-year anniversary date, and though I know I have nothing to worry about, I can’t help the butterflies in my stomach.

My girlfriend’s name is Lorelei. She has long, beautiful brown hair and a smile that could light up any room. Her laugh is as clear as a windchime, and no matter how many times I hear it, it never gets old. In her free time she enjoys playing the violin and volunteering. Whether she’s in a classroom as a substitute teacher or in the soup kitchen, she treats everyone around her with nothing but compassion and kindness. Every day I try to be a little more like her.

It’s 6:30 pm, the time we agreed we’d meet. I fix up my suit, trying to look a little more presentable. My hair is in its perpetual messy state, but Lorelei swears she likes it that way. I place my rose on the booth next to me, waiting to surprise her. Lorelei loves roses, and she points out roses to me everywhere. Not just physical plants, but also as designs on people’s clothing and accessories. Now I see tiny flower-related details everywhere I look.

“Hi, my name is Justin. I’ll be your waiter today. Is there anything I can get for you?” I hear a voice ask.

I think for a second. Typically I don’t eat until Lorelei arrives, but I *am* kind of hungry. “Just some breadsticks and a water, please,” I say.

Justin bows slightly. “Of course,” he says, and walks away. I check my phone again. 6:35. I put it on the table. That’s odd, it’s not like Lorelei to be late. I assume she got stuck in traffic. I reach up and fiddle with my necklace. It’s a simple necklace Lorelei got for me, a silver chain adorned with a gold whale charm. She got it for me to celebrate my first job as a marine biologist I got shortly after graduating college.

I look at my phone on the table, resisting the urge to scroll Instagram. I want to be able to see Lorelei when she walks in. I start fantasizing. Lorelei sweeps in, a little disheveled because she rushed, but beaming with that smile I fell in love with. I stand up and give her my rose. She tears up a little and throws her hands around my neck, pulling me into a deep hug. I let myself relax, happy and content in her presence.

“Your breadsticks” Justin says, sitting them down on the table. I realize it’s 6:40 and I’m still alone. I pick up a breadstick and scroll through Lorelei’s last messages to me. Maybe I missed her saying that she would be late. I see our most recent text. Lorelei hearted my message saying to meet her at 6:30, today’s date, at the Olive Garden. I briefly wonder if she went to the wrong Olive Garden before realizing there’s only one near us.

6:50. I’m staring at my phone, drumming my fingers against the table, debating whether I should text her or not. If she’s still on the road I wouldn’t want to risk distracting her as she drives. Unless she got into a car accident? Maybe she’s sprawled on the street, with a crowd of people around her. One person desperately performs CPR, trying to bring back the life she lost. I could see myself at her funeral, dressed all in black, fighting back the tears as her sister gave the eulogy. “Lorelei was a wonderful woman, and there was no one in her life that she loved more than her partner, Avery”. Everyone would turn and look at me, and only then would I allow myself to cry.

6:51. I’m still in the Olive Garden, still alone. I swear time is moving slower. I can’t help but notice the people around me giving me looks. A single person in a suit in a booth, eating breadsticks by themselves. They must think I’m some pathetic loser. Maybe I am some pathetic loser. I take the last bite of my breadstick and stare forlornly at the time.

“Hey, are you Avery?” a guy asks me. He looks scruffy and unkempt, like he’s been on the streets for a long time. “Yes, that’s me.” I say.

He sighs in relief. “Ok, great. A woman outside gave me twenty dollars and this note to give to you,” he says, handing me a piece of paper folded up multiple times. “She told me I’d recognize you by your whale necklace. Goodbye”. The man nods and walks away.

I’m no idiot, the second I received the paper I knew what was happening. Yet I still hoped without hope that it wasn’t what I thought. I unfolded the paper and started reading.

My dearest Avery,

I wish you could know how much it pains me to write this. I’ve given so much thought as to whether this is the right decision or not as I lay awake in bed next to you. You’re a great person, and I’ve been so lucky to have you in my life this past year. I never wanted to break your heart. But we don’t share interests, and we’re not alike. I found someone else. Someone that ignited a spark within me that I wish I could’ve felt for you, but I never have. I hope someday you’ll forgive me, even though I don’t deserve it. It’s over.

Lorelei

I spend a few minutes reading the note over and over to myself. I feel like the rose on my seat is laughing at me, mocking me. I sit back and stare at the menu across from me. Lorelei’s menu. My ex-girlfriend’s menu. Tears well up in my eyes, and I feel a burning in my throat. Just like that, after 12 of the happiest months of my life, it’s over. I throw a 20 dollar bill on the table to pay for my breadsticks, and get up to leave like a zombie. I’m going to the bar, by the end of the night I won’t remember Lorelei even existed.

As I walk out, I can’t help but feel like someone’s watching me. I pause and look behind me. I see a woman. She’s sitting in the booth behind where I was sitting, wearing a black dress and sunglasses that are so big they take up half the space on her face. I recognize her instantly, the curve of her face and the shade of her hair. A single tear traces down her cheek. Without a word, I turn and walk away.