The burnt orange hatchback nudged around the corner as it carefully wove its way through downtown streets. Dion made sure to signal every turn. The streets were widened a decade ago to accommodate for increased traffic, but were still packed with enough pedestrians to make him overly cautious.
That was not the entire reason he was nervous. Liz was with him and this was their first date somewhere nice. They were heading to a fine dining restaurant, Le Renard Glorifié de la Maison Renoir. Fancy enough Dion wore his nicest suit. He had no cause to wear it since leaving St. Ambrose. It still fit, but it was getting very tight around his midsection. Probably shrank hanging in his closet for the past three years.
Three years just flew by. Hardly seemed like that long since Liz approached him in the dining hall to talk about chemistry. It turned out their personal chemistry was far more interesting than anything in their textbooks. He expected telling her what he was to break the bond between them. It had the opposite effect, making it stronger than ever.
Sure, they still argued from time to time. It was rarely heated. The worst it got was arguing over which ‘Voyages of the Bonny Calhoun’ book was their favorite. She did chide him from time to time about his diet. Too many sweets, not enough lean meat and vegetables. Studying to be a dietician, he expected that from her. When she cooked for him, he always ate what she made, so that was good enough. He could always pick up a couple candy bars on the way home. He even went jogging with her a few times and managed to keep up. For a little while, anyway.
No matter how they disagreed, she never brought up magic. Never made him feel like he was less because he was Izorian. Never asked him to do tricks with his magic or conjure something or anything like that. One would think she would take advantage of it, but it did not seem to matter to her one way or the other. He wondered why for some time before the answer came to him. She saw there was more to him than that. Magic was the least important aspect of him. An aspect that she knew bothered him, so she avoided it. He liked that, as it let him not talk about it again. Took it as a sign she knew all she wanted to about the subject.
“Man….the menu of this place looks fancy as heck.” Liz’s words brought him out of his private thoughts.
“It specializes in French cuisine, so I’d hope so.”
“This salad lyonnaise looks really nice. Think I’ll start with that.” She held her smart phone out to Dion. “See?”
He leaned to the side. “Uh, not so close. I don’t want to burn out your phone. Again.”
“Oh, right, sorry.” She quickly pulled her smartphone back.
That did not mean he never had to explain how magic interacted with the world. Of course, he had to tell her about the conflict between magic and technology. He was basically a conduit of magical energy; energy that worked by altering or suspending the laws of physics and nature. Machines like computers worked on the principle of following or strengthening them. He could not touch a smartphone or anything with computer chips without protection. If he did, they sizzled like sausages in a hot pan. She already lost one smartphone this year when she wanted to show him something and was so excited she handed it to him. The most natural reflex when being handed something was to take it. The screen immediately fizzled out and the whole thing smelled of burning wires. Older, CRT screens were fine. He could touch those. A smart TV? No.
Even after nearly melting her phone, Liz forgave him. It was kind of her fault for handing it to him, but it taught her to adjust. With any relationship, one took the good with the bad. He had to think quite hard to envision anything bad about her. Being their three-year anniversary of their first date, it was time to do something special. He saved enough money by forgoing vending machines for a few months to buy a fancy dinner.
That was one reason they were going out, dressed as expected for fine dining. Dion in his suit and Liz wearing an ankle length, dark blue dress with lace sleeves in a floral pattern. Subdued, classy, and modest. It showed off her beauty without showing off too much.
They had not eaten together anywhere but the dining hall or Liz’s apartment for the past year. Junior year in college was especially taxing and money was especially tight. This was a treat. He could tell she was excited to spend a night out. Before they got in the car, her tail was twitching in that way it always did when she anticipated an event. Rabbits had such adorable tails. Dion thought so, which was why he had to work really hard to avoid staring. Would have been rude and attraction is a difficult thing to explain.
Attraction was a good term for it. As he pulled his car into a parking space about a block from the restaurant, he got a good look at her. Caught a glimpse of the way the dress hugged her hips and rear as she exited the car. Even loose, the positioning accented it. It made him blush. At his age, physical attraction was difficult to hide. He caught glimpses of her looking at him the same way in the past. It was mutual.
He checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. Brown contacts were in and his hair dyed black recently enough he could not see any purple roots. Just because Liz knew all about him did not mean he was ready to show himself to the world. Not there yet. The world would not accept him like Liz did. Fear of being found and hunted down was still very, very real. For now, he looked normal. Nervous, but normal.
They approached the front of the restaurant. It looked suitably fancy, like something out of a romance novel. Picture windows with red curtains and a muted red and black façade. Old world wooden doors and lettering on the awning above. Dion held the door open for her.
“After you.” He said.
“Such a gentleman. Careful, I might get used to it.” Liz gave him a kiss on the cheek as she passed.
He let the door shut behind them and reached into his pocket. The little box inside only weighed a few ounces, but it might as well weigh as much as his car. Focus, Dion. Enjoy the dinner first and do not over think this.
The maître d', a slightly overweight possum named Nicolas Talbot in a black tuxedo, welcomed them inside and checked their reservations. He was cordial, but aloof. They were happy he was polite, because he was a little curt with the even more overweight couple with dyed pink hair he checked in before them.
They were shown to their table, one near the windows looking out over the street. He bid them a wonderful evening, gave them a smile that looked very mildly deranged with his pale blue eyes, and went back to his post. Dion hoped they found someone more polite and less eerie in the future.
At least their table was nice. A solid oak table lovingly crafted rather than mass produced. A pristine white tablecloth completely devoid of stains spread out over the top. The only decoration was a single candle in a glass jar that resembled multiple pieces of red and black glass stuck together. A real candle, not an electric one. Silverware was in place; two forks, a spoon, and a knife wrapped in a red cloth napkin. A small booklet, leather bound, sat propped up on the far end of the table.
The street view was not too busy. A few people walking by now and then. This restaurant was far enough away from the clusters of bars students frequented that it did not see much foot traffic. Besides, with a bellyful of cheap booze, you wanted cheap food to keep the liquor down, not expensive gourmet meals. The night was clear and they could see the moon and stars. Well, the moon. There was too much light in town to see the stars. It did make the sky look a nice shade of dark purple, so that was a small consolation.
A beautiful night, but not as beautiful as Liz. Dion enjoyed it when she dressed for a more formal occasion. She looked so natural in a dress. Did not even need makeup, so she did not wear any. He never understood the fad of women painting their lips and fur. To him, it seemed clownish. It was only a small part of what he enjoyed about going places with her, but certainly helped. It even made going to church with her tolerable. With her by his side, he could listen to the priest drone on all day about a God he no longer believed in. It helped that Catholic mass was shorter than most of the sermons at St. Ambrose Lutheran.
They did not say anything. Did not need to. Sometimes, when you loved someone, being around them was enough. They were so involved they barely noticed their waiter approach.
“Good evening. My name is Carlos and it will be my pleasure to serve you this evening.” A light, slightly effeminate male voice came from Dion’s right side. He looked over to see a slightly shorter-than-average white mouse with a very trim build and short, brown hair parted down the middle. He was fastidiously groomed; hair brushed and held in place with a thin layer of pomade, fur brushed so not a single strand was out of place, whiskers groomed and oiled. Even his hairless tail looked well cared for. His uniform consisted of a pair of black slacks and a white dress shirt. His only accessories were a black bow tie, a silver wristwatch, and a gold-plated name tag on his right chest. It confirmed his name was, indeed, Carlos Destrade. He presented them with two menus, which they placed before themselves.
“May I start you off with something to drink? We have a wide selection of excellent wines to please the most discerning palate. I personally recommend the Bordeaux. It’s a Cabernet Franc and pairs wonderfully with the braised lamb with fennel and orange.” The mouse gestured at the booklet on the table. Oh, that is what that was. An entire book full of wines? Food pairings? Maybe Dion was in over his head.
“We..um, don’t really drink.” Dion stated with all the accompanying self-consciousness.
“Oh, so sorry, sir.” Carlos replied. “Some water while you look over the menu, then?” He smiled. It looked more genuine than customer service related.
“That would be nice, thank you.” Dion stated.
“Wonderful. I’ll be back with that and a basket of our fresh house bread and butter to get you started.” Carlos gave a polite nod and walked off. He swished slightly as he walked, his steps light as he weaved around the tables. He clearly had been a waiter for a few years.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
“Nice guy.” Liz commented.
“He certainly loves his job.” Dion agreed.
Before long, Carlos returned. The bread he brought was not just a loaf of white bread slices or country rolls, as Dion expected. Instead, it was a selection. A sliced baguette, fougasse with olives and garlic baked in, and some slices of dark rye. Dion had no idea about the varieties of bread, but Carlos explained what they were when asked. He really needed to read more than fantasy novels and science textbooks. Bit embarrassing when you found yourself unable to identify bread. The restaurant felt a little too fancy for him. Even the water was served in expensive looking crystal glasses that caught the low light and made them sparkle.
The menu was not entirely helpful. He was unfamiliar with most of the dishes. Not at all familiar with the flavor profiles. Plus, some of the names were French and he could not speak that. Carlos read off a few house specials, but Dion could not remember them after the mouse left. It was enough to almost make him wish he would have enchanted himself to learn French before coming here. Almost. Suddenly being able to speak a foreign language would be handy, but using your magic for frivolities or to pick up skills for easier living was a bad habit to get into. The last thing he wanted was to rely on it. One little slip up and he knew someone would come looking for him. Now that he had Liz, it would put her in danger too. Unacceptable.
True to what she said, Liz started with the salad lyonnaise and had ratatouille for her main. He eventually settled on that braised lamb with fennel and orange. Orange might imply it was sweet, so that would be nice. Never tried lamb before, so it was time for a food adventure. After all, how often were they going to come here?
It should have been fine. It was not fine. Too herby and bitter. He still ate it, because Liz really enjoyed her meal and he did not want to just pick at his food. She did not like him wasting food. Bad habit to get into, so he agreed. It was so hard to eat he wished he had the wherewithal to ask Carlos some more questions about the food. Or, maybe even ask for something else. Such disagreeableness was not in his nature, so eat your food, Dion.
“How is everything?” Carlos stated. Dion never saw him approach; a sign of a waiter who is either good at his job or very sneaky.
“Wonderful, thank you. Didn’t know you could make vegetables taste so rich.” Liz smiled.
Dion swallowed a bit of water to help the last bite of lamb go down. It did not seem to want to slide down his throat on its own. Good riddance.
“…..fine.” He managed after suppressing the urge to cough.
Carlos looked at Dion. He must have had the look of someone who was straight up not having a good time. More than likely did, considering his eyes were watering from memories of fennel. The mouse’s ears folded back some and his tail drooped.
“Uh, good. Well, may I interest you in the dessert menu? Our pastries are made fresh daily by our classically trained pastry chef. He’s very good at his job and I’m sure you’ll find something to your liking.” He smiled widely and held out the dessert menu.
Dion took it faster than he should have. Dessert? After that? Yes, please! Anything to get the taste out of his mouth. Liz saw him do this, of course. She let out one of her giggles she did whenever he did something lacking restraint.
“Easy, don’t order the whole menu.” She teased, making Dion blush. Was it that obvious he preferred dessert over dinner? She looked up at Carlos. “I think you made his night.”
“The food was good, but dessert’s the best part of the meal.” Dion offered to salvage some of his pride.
Sympathetic, Carlos nodded. “French desserts really are quite amazing. Is this your first time here?”
Dion and Liz both nodded.
“In that case, I recommend our dessert sampler.” He reached down and traced a finger under the indicated menu item. “It has a small portion of each of our most popular desserts. Quite good for someone who wants to try everything.”
Definitely had Dion’s interest. At least four different miniature versions of French pastries, the names of which the skunk was likely to mispronounce if he read them out loud. Something called crème brulee, and madeleines garnished with candied orange peel dipped in dark chocolate. Interesting.
“What do you think?” Dion asked, turning his hopeful eyes to Liz. “Want to split it?”
She leaned over the menu to look at the indicated item. Difficult to endure the anticipation. The item said it was for two, so Dion would have felt silly ordering it for himself. Still would do it, though.
“I haven’t had something sweet in a while.” Liz opined. “And this does look good. So, yes.” She smiled. Liz ate sweets infrequently, so they had to sound exceptional to get her attention.
“We’ll have that, then.” Dion handed back the menu.
“Excellent choice, sir. I’ll make sure you’re not disappointed.” Carlos turned on his heels and walked off. Dion regretted not showing more enjoyment over his painfully bitter dinner. That mouse seemed to be dead set on them having a good experience. Almost felt like he took it as a personal failure otherwise. At first, Dion thought his fastidious grooming was a matter of vanity. No, it was professional pride. He was not polite and well-groomed for himself, but because he respected everyone else too much to be rude and slovenly. It was a refreshing trait after spending so long on a college campus, where manners and showering seemed to be optional.
The desserts were phenomenal. Liz tried a bite of everything and two bites of a particularly decadent flourless chocolate torte with strawberry compote topping. Dion was more than happy to finish the rest. He thought boxed snack cakes and cafeteria pudding were amazing. This blew them away. It was like combining several of them into a mega dessert to rule all other lesser desserts with a candy-coated fist. Truly an enlightening experience on the nature of pastry.
The time came that everyone who splurged on a fancy night out dreaded, the check. Dion paid it and left as big a tip as he could manage. Carlos was an excellent waiter and obsequiously polite, so he deserved it. However, Dion was still a borderline broke college student and could only afford so much. Such a shame that turning lead into gold was not something he knew or cared to know. Another bad habit to get into.
The night was not yet over. As the couple walked to Dion’s car, there was one thing left to do. The anxiety of what came next was easy to ignore during dinner. Lots of other stuff to focus on and other interactions with waitstaff and the like. He let it build until his paws shook despite keeping them in his jacket pockets. One hand gripped the tiny jewel box so tightly one would almost fear him crushing it.
He wanted to do this inside of the restaurant at first. That is what people did in those romance movies that Liz infrequently watched. He never understood them, being as most of the moods expressed were over the top exaggerated, but they did give him some idea of how romance was supposed to work. Some. The idea of proposing to her inside of a restaurant, in front of all those people, seemed more likely to embarrass them than result in a happy memory. Did not want the attention.
Thinking like that only served to put it off. Maybe that was why men asked the love of their life to marry during dessert at a fancy restaurant; all those onlookers serving as moral support to goad them into action? Might work, but the prospect of rejection and humiliation was enough to make Dion rethink that approach. No, do it near the car. Safer that way. More intimate, maybe? A moment for the two of them and no one else.
The car was getting closer. He felt Liz’s paw brush against his wrist. Against the hand holding the jewel case. When they walked, they liked to hold paws. She probably wondered why they were not right now. A mild autumn night was not cold enough to justify keeping one’s hands in their pockets. The guilt was nearly instantaneous. Dion felt a chill run through his tail. If he was upsetting Liz, that would make what he needed to do next even harder.
There was his car. They were right next to it. The rabbit went to open the passenger side door and let herself in. Now. Now was the time to make his move. He spent the entire day rehearsing the event in his head. Playing over what he would say and how he would say it. What he would do. Predicting how he was supposed to feel and how it would go. Of the hundreds of times he ran through it in his thoughts, it went well almost 30% of the time.
He had to do it. Right now. There could be no more stalling. Just had to overcome his fear of rejection, failure, saying the wrong thing, stumbling over his words, stumbling over himself, and the unknown. In his pocket, his hand froze up. His arm did the same. The jewel case clutched between his fingers suddenly weighed more than his car. He leaned forward, but that was as far as his body carried him.
Sensing his hesitation, Liz paused while holding the car door. She looked at him, frozen in place and not yet circling around to drive. An ear flicked and she spoke. “You’re quieter than usual…..is everything okay?”
She knew something was going on. Whenever something was on his mind, Dion was terrible at hiding it. How he acted leading up to his revealing his nature proved that. He may need to work on being more deceptive. Learn to lie to not appear like such an awkward nerd. But then, he would be lying to the woman he loved and that would not be worth it.
She was still waiting for him to say something. Being frozen with indecision did not freeze time. Do something, Dion! He opened his mouth to speak words. Nothing came out. He might have mouthed something, but still no words. At the same time, his paw slipped from his pocket. The paw carrying the jewel case. His hands, more intelligent than his speech, opened it up to show the ring.
Liz’s eyes flicked from his face to the ring. A silver band with a small, oval-shaped sapphire set into it. The band was etched in an ivy pattern, making it look like the sapphire grew out of it. Not the most expensive ring ever made, but beautiful and the best Dion could afford. He knew Liz loved blue. Originally, he entertained the idea of getting an amethyst stone set in the ring, as it would remind her of him. He decided against it, as it was a little too close to the color of his eyes he needed to keep hidden behind contact lenses.
Liz’s eyes went wide. She put a paw to her muzzle. Gaze traced from the ring and back to Dion’s face. He was not sure what expression he wore that night. It was her turn to be speechless. She could think of nothing to say, same as him. Lingering moments, Dion tried to figure out what he was supposed to do next. He knew how he felt, of course. Giddy, nervous, full of anticipation, love. She did not run off or say no, so he was hopeful. The love he felt was real, even if his ability to express it was compromised.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered. He lowered himself to one knee. He presented his prospective wife the ring, holding it aloft like the precious artifact it was. Not enchanted, being a normal ring, but it might as well be. It allowed the wearer access to his heart. Words. He needed words. Something to say to make this moment shine. Ask the question that mattered most. ‘Will you marry me?’ Easy enough to spit out, but he needed to make it poetic and memorable. Something that would last until their golden years.
He never got a chance to ask.
“Dion….” Liz, fully surprised herself, began. “….are you asking to marry me?”
Just as well. He was terrible at poetry. He nodded. “Um….yes, Liz. I love you. Am I proposing right?” Having never done this before, he was not exactly an expert. Then again, people who had a lot of practice proposing for marriage were probably terrible at it.
Liz put her paw down. A broad smile on her muzzle revealed to the world. “Yes!”
She lunged. Not for the ring, but for Dion. She pulled the surprised skunk to his feet and into a tight hug. Dion had just enough presence of mind to avoid dropping the box.
“You’ve made me so happy…..” She said, clutching him against her chest. “Of course I’ll marry you! I couldn’t imagine spending my life with anyone but you….and you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”
Feeling the time was right, Dion moved in to kiss her. He had nothing to say. What else could he say? This went far better than he thought. The anxiety was all gone, every drop. No more fear. She said yes, after all. Now, all he had left was the hope. A bright future. One for both of them.
Well, not all hope. Even with the high that love brought with it, there was always something at the back of his mind reminding him that it was not going to be easy. An Izorian marrying outside of their people? Never happened, not from what he knew of history. He was not so naïve to think it would be challenge free.
They could make it work. He was confident they could. She knew him so well, what else could possibly happen?