Basil stares intensely.
He needs to get this right.
It has to be perfect or it will never work.
He glances toward the door. He is terrified that someone will walk in at any moment – or worse spy on him.
That is the problem with choosing to do this at the restaurant. He should have waited.
Maybe tonight isn’t the best time for it. Perhaps he could do it tomorrow night?
No, she is going away on that business trip.
It needs to be tonight.
He starts to speak… stops.
He takes a deep breath. The left side of his face threatens to spasm again. He clamps his jaw down hard. That fixed it last time.
Another deep breath. Calm. Focused. He is ready.
He lowers his right knee to the hard bathroom floor. Fortunately, the mirror is low enough so he can still see himself reflected in it.
He reaches into his pocket and says the words he has practiced for over six months, “Della, will you marry m-?”
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“Oh God, no!” she squeals.
Just next door in the women’s restroom, Della peers into the mirror, evaluating if she needs another touch-up. Does this blue mascara really go with her gold hair? What about purple? Or perhaps, lavender!
“The last thing I want is to spend the rest of my life with someone like him,” she says to her reflection. “He’s a wallflower.”
There’s a flush, and a cubicle door opens. Gemma emerges to wash her hands at the basin.
“Della, darling,” Gemma says in that faux accent that middle-class women acquire when they suddenly become stupidly rich (usually through married - although not always thanks to these increasingly enlightened times). “Dump him,” she adds, “Or you’ll never be happy like Jacob and me.”
“There’s not exactly a lot of options.”
There never is once a woman reaches her thirties.
“What about Griff?”
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The bathroom door slams open and Griff swaggers in. He’s a man’s man. The sort that wanders around wearing a green army jacket, because that’s what man’s men do. Even to fancy riverside restaurants.
“Hey mate, what’s taking so long?” he asks, wearing his usual cock-eyed grin.
Basil leaps to his feet. He almost drops the ring box. In a surprising display of deftness, he catches it and slams it back into his pocket.
He turns to Griff.
Griff is looking at him expectantly.
What?
Belatedly, Basil realises he needs to say something.
Anything.
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“I..I..I was… having a wank?” Basil says.
What! Why did you say that?
“I mean, I lost something,” Basil says quickly. “Yes. Lost something. Definitely….lost…something?”
Basil smiles at Griff. He learnt that smile during the body language session. It’s supposed to soothe and tell the recipient that everything is all right - that there is no reason to worry.
Then his face spasms again, and his reassuring smile evolves into a wink. A series of winks actually.
Griff steps back in response. It’s quite unconscious. It was the exactly the same reaction Griff’s instructors had when they saw him for the first time during Induction Week.
“You sure, mate?” Griff asks, “because if you need to be alone-”
“No!”
“You want me to stay?”
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
“NO!”
“Okay then.”
There is an uncomfortable silence. Neither Basil nor Griff quite knowing what to say. Nor can they look at the other in the eye, Basil looking at his own reflection in the mirror, and Griff keeping his eyes on the floor.
Then inspiration strikes.
“What did you lose?” Griff asks.
Basil’s gaze darts about as he hunts for inspiration of his own. He finds none. His mouth opens. It shuts. His bottom lip quivers. Then the whole winking thing starts up again. His face is having an epileptic fit. Fortunately, Griff comes to his rescue.
“Money?” Griff offers with a laugh. “I know what that’s like, let me tell you.”
“Let’s just go,” Basil insists.
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They leave the bathroom together, quietly chatting while they walk towards the front door.
“Griff’s got that new girl,” Della says, “What’s her name?”
Gemma thinks for a moment then says, “Wanda. I think she’s in finance. Jacob seems to know her.”
In fact, outside the restaurant Jacob is speaking with Wanda right now.
He is smiling at her. A charming smile that he knows women love. Without that smile, he knows he would never have been as successful.
“So, Wednesday at one?” he says to Wanda, “Smashing. Looking forward to it.”
Jacob punches in the details into his smartphone. It’s the latest model. He upgrades at least three times per year. He needs to, in order to keep up.
Wanda watches his face. She is smiling too, except hers is polite and professional. She learnt to hide behind it years ago. Nobody likes a woman to grin triumphantly when money is on offer. It makes men feel insecure.
“Don’t worry. A month, and he won’t even remember her name.” Gemma says, talking about Griff. “What was last one? Viv? Vicki?”
“Valerie?” Della suggests off-handedly. She’s really not paying attention. She’s trying to imagine what life with Griff would be like. Her eye falls upon him, as he emerges from the restaurant with Basil. Her face contorts as she tilts her head to the side.
“See! We can’t even remember, what chance does he have?” Gemma laughs at her own witticism. She finds she needs to laugh at her own jokes, otherwise Della would never understand them.
“No,” Della says, coming to a decision. “I don’t want to end up like my mother: divorced and unable to afford a country club membership.”
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The restaurant is located right at the footstep of the River. As restauranteurs across the world know, people will flock to eat the most horrid, overpriced food just as long as they can do it while ignoring a breath-taking view.
This particular restaurant offers the best panorama in the city. At night, diners are dazzled by spectacular vistas of the city lights, and during the summer month’s magnificent golden sunsets beforehand. It is a million dollar view all for the price of topping out the credit card, and indigestion the following morning.
That is why Basil chose it. Of course, it was supposed to be just him and Della. However, she thought the restaurant sounded so wonderful that she invited Gemma and Jacob too. Then, to avoid having to talk to Jacob all night, Basil invited Griff, who brought Wanda with him. Now it’s the six of them looking uncomfortable and trying to work out what happens now they have finished their meal.
The uncomfortable silence doesn’t last long, unfortunately.
Griff purposely strides over and places his arm around Wanda. He glares at Jacob. It’s an old tension. The two of them have never gotten along.
She’s mine! he’s saying, in the way the most men speak, but few actually understand.
Of course the idea is fanciful, because she’s nobody’s.
However Wanda lets Griff do it, because that’s what she’s supposed to do.
“Don’t worry, mate, “Jacob quips. “I paid your share. My little treat.”
It’s a pointed barb directed at Griff’s reputation: he’s always bereft of funds, and constantly between jobs.
Griff has been like that ever since being discharged from the army – on his second day. He told everyone that he developed a sudden onset of advanced pacifism. One of the worst cases the army doctors had ever seen.
However there are rumours amongst military circles, that the real reason he left was because Griff’s enthusiasm scared the instructors. The psychologist that passed him as mentally fit was forced to leave, under controversial circumstances, soon after.
All Griff had to do to extract himself from military life was sign the contract stipulating that the army could garnish his wages, up to the total cost (plus interest) of all the equipment he had somehow lost in those two days. Griff’s solution to get around this obscene imposition was to be perpetually unemployable – at least officially. The welfare office didn’t need to know about the little jobs he did on the side.
It takes a moment, but Griff finally comprehends Jacob’s innuendo. His face screws up like a crumpled piece of brown butcher’s paper. His lips curl back to expose his uneven teeth, and his face flushes so red it almost obscures his generous supply of freckles.
Fortunately, Basil has seen this reaction before from his friend. He is always amazed how someone who was ejected from the army because of pacifist tendencies, can get into so many fights.
Basil steps in between Griff and Jacob. He doesn’t want the night to become a total disaster.
“So, I guess this is good night then,” he says. It sounds much more hopeful than he intended.
“Of course not,” Gemma chides him, “We’re going for a walk.”
“Really?” Basil asks incredulously. He looks to Della for support, “Della?”
“Come on Basil, “Della answers dismissively, “It’s a beautiful night. Fresh air helps the digestion...and the gossip.”
She and Gemma both giggle, like their still ten years old.
“I thought we were going to have some… you know, time alone.”
“Ooooh!” Gemma squeals, “In that case, I’ll be sure to keep the two of you apart. It’s the least I can do for my best friend.”
Everyone laughs.
And that – as they say - is that: all Basil’s plans are ruined. Even the backup backup plans as well as the auxiliary contingencies he is famous for.
Basil considers his options. Should he extricate himself now? At least he might prevent embarrassing himself even further. If he heads straight home, he would have time to watch an entire episode of his favourite show before sleep. There’s even a tub of Della’s favourite ice-cream in the freezer. He doubts she’ll be requiring it.
“Hey, mate. You coming?” It is Griff calling from the end of the walkway. The others have gone ahead without him.
“Of course he is.” Della says. She gives Basil a look that tells him he doesn’t really have a choice. Then she hurries to join Gemma and Jacob.