{ Andy }

"You've got a date!" Virginia exclaimed from the other end of the phone, her voice vibrating with excitement.

"It's not a date," I replied, trying to hide my embarrassment.

"Oh, come on, Andy! You can call it whatever you want, but having dinner with a handsome guy all alone is still a date," Virginia insisted in a playful tone.

I looked at my phone screen, meeting her playful gaze through the video call. Virginia had been my lifeline after my breakup with Oliver, one of the few friends I still kept close after all the drama. To be honest, she never liked Oliver, and we had known each other since high school, so it would have been strange if our friendship had been affected by something like that.

"It's just dinner... and I'm sure it'll be a complete disaster," I sighed, sitting on the sofa in front of the window, my gaze lost in the bay.

"And why do you say that? Andy, you're a fascinating, intelligent, and funny woman... you have a lot to offer!" she exclaimed, trying to cheer me up.

"I don't speak his language," I lamented. "I can be as interesting as you want, but I can't show it. It's so frustrating to want to say something and not be able to express it." I made a grimace of frustration.

"Well, you can always call me and put me on speakerphone," Virginia joked. "I'll be your personal interpreter."

Her bilingualism was an advantage I didn't have. Virginia had lived in the United States for several years, perfecting her English even before moving there for work. I, on the other hand, had arrived with a suitcase full of dreams and a limited vocabulary.

"No way," I replied, crossing my arms. "Knowing you, you'll probably tell him whatever you want, not what I actually say."

Virginia burst out laughing, admitting my accusation with total shamelessness.

"Is he good-looking?" she asked slyly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. My facial expression said it all before I could open my mouth.— "Okay, okay, I see him now!" she exclaimed between giggles. "He's very handsome, isn't he? Well, handsome by your standards... He could look like a homeless person to me, who knows? Tall, bearded, and with long hair?"

I nodded. Virginia knew me too well to fool her.

"How tall?" she continued her interrogation.

"I don't know exactly... about as tall as Carlos," I replied, mentioning her ex-husband to provoke her. Virginia's face clouded over instantly.

"6'3" then," she murmured, doing the math. "Brunette?" - I shook my head. "Blonde?" - I shook my head again. "Redhead!" she exclaimed with a squeal of excitement that forced me to pull the phone away.

"Vir, this is Scotland!" I protested. "There are redheads everywhere."

"Tattooed?" she insisted, ignoring my comment.

"Tattooed..." I admitted in a small voice.

"Green eyes?"

I sighed, resigned. "Yes, Vir, it's everything I wrote on that damn paper while I was half-drunk," I confessed, knowing she wouldn't stop until she got the whole truth. A triumphant silence fell over the other end of the line.

"Andy! You've found the universe's man!" Virginia shouted, her voice full of enthusiasm. "I can't believe it!"

"I told you so," I replied happily. "He must be single, right?"

"I guess so, I didn't ask."

"I bet you're right. I doubt he would have asked you out if he had a girlfriend hanging around. Did he have a ring?" she asked with intrigue. I shook my head. "Oh, so you looked at his hand to see if he was married... you sly dog!" Virginia exclaimed in a playful tone.

I rolled my eyes, remembering the moment when the idea of asking her for help had seemed like a good idea. A torrent of doubts and questions assaulted me: what should I wear, how should I act, what should I say? The prospect of the "date" filled me with a mixture of excitement and fear.

"Well, are you going to help me or not?" I complained, with a tone of voice between exasperated and pleading.

"Yes, what do you have with a neckline?" Virginia asked, feigning innocence.

"I'm not going to wear a neckline. It's freezing cold and it's NOT A DATE," I emphasized, trying to silence the inner voice that suggested the opposite.

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"If that were the case, you wouldn't have asked me for advice on what to wear," she replied, with a perspicacity that left me speechless. "You would put on the first thing you found in your closet and there would be no drama. You want to impress him."

"It's not that," I defended myself. "It's just that it's the first man I'm going to have dinner with after Oliver and... I don't want it to be an absolute disaster."

"Honey, it wouldn't be a disaster even if you wore a turtleneck sweater. Let me see what you have. Did you pack the black shirt I gave you last Christmas?" Virginia asked enthusiastically.

I nodded and got up from the sofa. I walked to the bedroom, opened the closet and took out the black shirt.

"And what about some black jeans?"

I put the shirt on the bed and rummaged through my pants until I found a pair of black jeans that I felt comfortable in. "Yes," I confirmed.

"Elegant but informal, yes," Virginia nodded, evaluating me with a critical eye. "And loose hair suits you, it gives you a wilder look."

"Wild like a lioness with disheveled hair in the middle of a storm," I joked, imagining my hair tousled by the wind.

"You're a lioness, Andy," she replied firmly. "Stop trying to be a scared gazelle."

"Okay, okay," I surrendered to her perspicacity. "And what about the language? How am I going to communicate with him if I can barely babble a couple of basic English phrases?"

"Andy invited you out despite the language barrier, Andrea. I don't think he'll care too much if you don't speak his language perfectly. I'm sure you'll find a way to communicate. And if not... beer! Until you both speak so badly that you understand each other perfectly."

I couldn't help but smile. Vir was incorrigible, always looking for the positive side of things. That was one of the reasons I adored her.

"I'll tell you how it went when I get back," I said, returning to the sofa and sitting down with a sigh. "I don't think the night will be long. What about you? Any interesting news?"

A veil of discomfort crossed Virginia's face. It was evident that she was praying that I wouldn't ask her that question.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, you know," she murmured, trying to change the subject.

"Vir..."

"Alright, you're right," she confessed, looking down. "Oliver called this morning."

"Why the hell is he calling you now?" I asked in disbelief and with a hint of resentment in my voice. As far as I knew, Oliver and Virginia didn't get along either, and they hadn't spoken since our break-up.

"I guess he knew I'd tell you, and he wanted you to know too."

I ran my hand through my hair, ruffling it nervously. A part of me begged not to know, to keep the bubble of ignorance intact. But the other part, the more masochistic one, urged me to ask.

"What does that... ?" I bit my lip, looking for the most neutral way to refer to him. "What does he want me to know?"

"He's getting married," Virginia replied.

A sepulchral silence fell over the room. We looked at each other through the screen, both with the weight of the news on our shoulders. I sighed deeply, feeling a mix of sadness, anger, and resignation. The truth is, deep down, I had seen it coming.

"And did he invite you to the wedding?" I asked in a small voice, more out of inertia than interest.

She nodded with a barely perceptible gesture. I made a sarcastic grimace, feeling a wave of bitterness wash over me.

"And are you going?" I asked, incredulous.

"Of course not, Andrea," Virginia replied firmly, as if reading my thoughts. "Are you crazy? I always thought he was a jerk. I never understood what you saw in him. And the day you showed up at my door saying you'd dumped him was the happiest day of my life. Even happier than the day I got divorced."

"Vir, you're exaggerating a bit," I laughed, trying to ease the tension.

"I'm not exaggerating at all, Andrea," she insisted vehemently. "Oliver is an idiot. He did you a favor by cheating on you with that girl, and I bet you she'll ask for a divorce before a year is up. I don't understand how you could stand him for so long."

"Because I was in love," I defended myself, feeling a lump in my throat.

"No, you weren't," she replied sternly. "You were addicted to him. Oliver found you young, molded you to his will, and did whatever he wanted with you. It took you twenty years to realize he was a complete imbecile." She crossed her arms, clearly annoyed.

"Well, whatever," I said in a low voice. "In any case, I wish them all the best. I don't want to know anything about him. I don't care what he does with his life." I also crossed my arms.

"That's right, screw him," she finally said, her tone a little more conciliatory. "Tonight you focus on the redhead, give him the eye if you're feeling down and let him distract you."

In half a second, I felt my cheeks turn crimson red.

"You're not thinking of...! No! Vir, nothing is going to happen. It's impossible for a guy like him to be interested in a girl like me. He's just being nice; stop thinking he has ulterior motives," I pleaded, almost unable to speak.

"Why are you so stubborn? Why couldn't he be interested in a woman like you?"

"Because I'm not his type!"

"And how do you know?"

"Because he's handsome and hot. I'm sure he likes women like you, not me. So stop trying to give me hope about something that's not going to happen."

"Listen to me, Andrea," she said firmly. "You are a beautiful, intelligent, and funny woman. You deserve to be happy. And I'm sure this redhead can be the one to make you smile again. So tonight, have dinner with him, have fun, and don't sabotage yourself. Do it for me, okay?"

"You talk as if I do it often," I complained, trying to sound indifferent.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," she said in a dry tone.

"Anyway, I'm going to... shower and stuff," I said, looking at the time on my phone clock. Erik should arrive in less than two hours and I didn't want to rush.

"Get ready, trust yourself, and then tell me all about it. Enjoy your date!" she encouraged me enthusiastically.

"It's not..." I didn't have time to finish the sentence, as she hung up quickly, probably to avoid hearing my inevitable protest. I got up from the chair with a mix of emotions: resignation, nervousness, and a hint of hope. I headed to the bathroom, ready to get ready for a date that wasn't even a date.