As we're waiting for our food, I start to get this strange feel. As though the temperature around me has suddenly risen a few degrees higher. I shift a tad in my seat, which turns out to be a futile attempt at finding my newly lost comfort and so, I turn towards a new method to detract my attention, "You know, for all Izzy has told me about you, she didn't tell me your last name," I say.
"I thought you said you knew I wasn't from town because you didn't recognize my last name," he half asks, half states.
"Yeah, I mean she didn't focus on your family name when she told me about you. She didn't even argue when I scolded her for giving our address to a complete stranger,"
"Fair enough," he pauses, but then asks, "You are quite observant, aren't you?"
"What makes you think that?"
Yeah, what gives? Is it the unhinged look I have on my face when I am deep into my own contemplations? Or perhaps is it the empty nest I have behind my eyes when I focus on something or someone for a minute too long?
"You seem like the kind of person that takes her time to mull things over,"
bingo! Right on the money. I understand I haven't really been trying to make a great impression, not to the best of my abilities at least. But then again, I wonder if that's not for the better. I am not interviewing for a job, after all; I shouldn't have to put up façades for him to peel throughout the days. If he does already think I am a lunatic, I'd like for him to rip the bandaid off right now, instead of dragging this along, "Do I seem weird when I do?"
"Weird wouldn't be the word I'd choose to describe you," he says.
"What would the word you'd choose be?"
"I haven't made up my mind about it yet, the night is still young,"
Well, well, well... If it isn't the taste of my own medicine. I wrestled my own facial muscles into submission, but I was easily bested, and I couldn't hide the gigantic, stupid looking smile my face is offering him.
"My last name is Whitemane," along with his everlasting grin, he allows a small chuckle out as he tells me his last name.
The tip of the tongue, the teeth, the lips. No doubt I heard this name before; it is up there somewhere, neatly tucked alongside many things my conscious mind believes it has forgotten. I make a mental note to rummage through the crevices of my brain for the information, later on tonight.
For the time being, however, I try with all my might to conceal that something is clearly wrong with me. I take a look all around myself, putting my best efforts into seeming as unbothered and calm as I can be, just to make sure that nobody is actually hovering behind me, breathing down my neck.
But best efforts or not, it seems like Nathanael isn't letting go of any detail, "Are you alright?" he asks about my well-being for the third time tonight.
"Yes," I bring my right hand towards the back of my neck and shield that surface for a moment, "As for my last name, it's Reed,"
I guess I am as much an open book as the people around me can be, more so to him, it seems. By this point, I had already noticed that his smile had dimmed down a notch.
"Reed? Like the detective in the newspaper?"
"Yeah, like him. We are related," I say meekly.
"He is some kind of a celebrity around here, isn't he? Would it be weird if I said that I am not surprised you too are related?" he asks.
"He is a celebrity in his own category. But yeah, a little weird. Considering I haven't told you how far or closely we are related yet,"
Wow! Can I be even more defensive than that? I can't make sense of this just yet but… Whatever it is, it's obvious that it's affecting me more than I'd like to admit.
"Yeah, no. I suppose it is weird, I am sorry,"
Now, once again, I am not saying that Izzy makes no mistakes in these matters but... When she said she thought we were a perfect match, I didn't really know what to expect. He truly is very perceptive, in his own way, though. And I must say that whatever way it is he does it... I am deeply fascinated by it, in every meaning of the word.
"So, what brings you to Grimesbrook?" I ask.
"Well, one of my relatives was passing through here but… They ended up at the hospital and that was how I met Isabelle," he took his hands off the table and brought them to his lap where I can no longer see them, giving me the impression that he's trying to hide or disappear right now. I'd already picked up on his discomfort from the moment I laid eyes on him, but it seemed like he had it under control until… Just now.
I... Did he just lie to me? Or are my eyes playing tricks on me? There's a distinct category of people that can get away with lying without it being plastered all over their features. For the rest of the population however, it is a different story. They're an open book. Especially to someone that knows what signs to look for and where to look for them. More often than not, the human body mirrors the true emotions and intentions of its owner. There are many things about someone that can betray their lies. Through their eyes, lips, hands, shoulders and micro expressions. For Nathanael, everything is in his smile. I've seen how brilliant it can be when he's sincere, how it dims down when it's tainted with concern. But when he answered my question, his smile didn't reach his eyes. Not to mention, he all of the sudden deterred his eyes away from mine and started blinking more than usual. Well, usual for the time I've known him, which isn't long at all, but the difference still is pretty flagrant.
Now, while I am glad to know that I am not on a date with one of those people that can lie their way in and out of any situation… I still feel insulted.
Literally, not a minute after acknowledging my attention to details does he lie to my face. I think that's the part that offends me the most. People lie for various reasons and considering this is our first date, I don't expect him to be open about everything right off the bat. Then again, he had the option to let me know he wasn't comfortable discussing this specific topic with me. Does he think I will press him for answers or something?
I stare at him until a question that I've been wanting to ask him since the moment I first met him pops back into my mind. I believe that now is the perfect moment to bring it up. Just to make sure I wasn't wrong about him lying to me. Not that I don't trust my judgment, "Nathanael. I have a question that I wanted to ask you from the moment I first saw you,"
"Yes. What is it?"
I don't have to be a mind reader to know that he does not like the serious look I am giving him, not one bit.
"Your eyes... Are your eyes colored green or are they black?"
"What?" he mutters that question under his breath, his eyes seemingly fighting against the dire need to blink.
I heard people say many deep and meaningful phrases over the years I walked this earth. One that is relentlessly pushing to reach the surface right now is, "Life is very similar to a roller coaster ride. One day you're flying through heaven's skies and right on the next, you can be drowning down the deepest, darkest trenches," yes, I don't think I can find a more fitting phrase for the current situation. One minute I was on cloud nine but here I am now questioning every decision that led me to this point in my life.
Although… I don't quite understand my own reaction. Sure, he is hiding something but… It's not like I expect him to be open and comfortable to discuss everything about himself on a first date. I myself have expressed my desire to hold on to my own thoughts and feelings twice already. So, why? Why do I feel like the oxygen is being sucked out of this room? Why do I sense this tightness in my chest? Why do I feel this terrible need to just get up, leave everything here behind me and rush to the door? I don't understand where this rush of adrenaline is coming from. This anger towards him that I know damn well is unjustified.
I look away from him, down at the table. Nothing has really changed since I'd last looked at it. The same items it carried then; it still carries now. Well, no…Not exactly…. Because right between the both of us, at the very center of the table, I note the presence of a midsize to small porcelain jar, neatly decorated with distinctive red markings that jump to the eyes. I can't tell if they are letters, numbers or what language they're written in. I've never seen anything that resembles that before. I extend my hand and lift the lid off it to see what it contains. Salt… Which I find quite odd, considering there's already a saltshaker on the table. That's when things went from bad to ugly for me. Like my skin had been doused and trickling with gasoline all this time. But now? Now, it feels like someone has finally thrown the match that set me ablaze.
"I...," he trails off in a tone that is identical to the previous one he spoke in.
He plucks me out of my thoughts, but my gut is still screaming at me to just get up and go. He does his best to hide the sheer terror I can see behind his eyes but... To no avail, not with me.
I may be overreacting... I certainly am… Who the fuck am I kidding? Overreacting is the understatement of the century here. I am being hysterical.
And yet, I am slammed and washed over by this scorching hot wave of emotions that's refusing to let me stand back on solid grounds.
I will probably regret doing this, but as I am, I can't see myself carrying on this date like everything is fine. I am not fine. Not when every fiber in my body is screaming at me to hurt this man. And for what? This doesn't feel natural, "Izzy gave you my number, didn't she?" I blurt out in a haste, refusing to look him in the eyes.
"Yes," he answers.
"Don't call me," I stand off my chair a little too hastily and almost knock the waiter walking behind me. I apologize before making a beeline for the exit without sparing a glimpse back at Nathanael.