Masked On A Feeling
“I met someone,” she says, picking up the menu. My heart sinks. I watch as her eyes roam through the appetizers, silently trying to catch a feel of her. I wonder, for a moment, if she is waiting for me to ask the next obvious question. If she thinks I’m going to give her that luxury, she’s wrong. I pick up the menu as well. From the corner of my eye, I catch her stealing a glance at me for a brief second.
“Last time, I got this appetizer plate and it was pretty good.” I point at the menu and add, “oh hey, it says it’s for two, care to split maybe?” Taking my eyes off the menu, I look at her with a straight face. I attempt to, at least.
She holds my gaze for what feels like five seconds before narrowing her eyes slightly. There’s so little that she lets me catch. A friendship of fifteen years should count as something. She shrugs, dropping a “Sure”, and goes back to studying the menu.
I let go of the breath I didn’t even know I was holding. This effect she has on me, I will never get used to it. I shake my head, wondering how long it’s going to take me to control it.
“What are you shaking your head at?” Her voice surprises me and brings me back to this moment. I must look alarmed, since she smirks a little. The exact same smirk she has had since we were five. Some things never change, I guess. I shrug, not giving her an answer since I don’t have one.
She goes back to the menu. “The noodles look good,” she says.
“Yeah, I think it’s their signature,” I answer, without even looking at her.
“Alright, I guess we can order that then.”
After we order, she takes all the menu on the table and puts it back in the plastic rack at the edge of the table. “So,” she speaks up. And I look over at her with probably alarm in my eyes, because I can already tell it’s something I don’t want to hear.
***
Sometimes I don’t understand him. Another old friend of mine once told me he’s the weirdest guy she knows. I thought that was weird, but I’m starting to think she may have been on to something.
Like, right now, he is looking at me like I’m about to give him the worst news in the whole wide world, which is such a crazy idea because this news I want to deliver has nothing to do with him. How can he be so affected by something that doesn’t concern him?
“I met someone,” I continue. He narrows his eyes.
He doesn’t speak, instead he just looks at me. Even knowing I can’t stand weird silences.
“He comes to the cafe I work at every Monday afternoon around the same time and orders the same latte, hazelnut, every single time. Which is kind of amusing to me, I mean, even if you like something so much, why would you continuously order the same thing, right? Anyways, because I work on Mondays, I get to see him every week, and we always talk for a bit while I make his latte,” I say, but I catch myself when I realise that he is still staring at me, unmoving.
His stare is making me question my storytelling skills. I know I ramble, but still. He’s usually welcoming of my ramblings. Or I thought he was. Maybe people change, I don’t know; I’m scared to ask. I mean, how do you bring that up anyway? Like, hey, you seem different these days, has something happened? No, even I know that’s weird. Besides, shouldn’t I be aware of the changes he goes through? I’m one of his oldest and closest friends, as he is for me.
“One day he asked me out to the movies, and it was the one I wanted to see, so-” I look up and I can’t take it anymore. “What?”
“What do you mean what?”
“That face.”
“This?” He points at his own face. “I’m pretty sure I’ve had this face my entire life. Fifteen years of which you’ve known it as well.”
I roll my eyes. “People’s faces change, they are not born with their twenty year old faces. Of course you look different. Gone are your adorable baby cheeks, replaced with those sharp-”
He smirks at me. “I didn’t know you were a fan of my adorable baby cheeks, I’d have kept them if-”
“Ugh, stop putting words in my mouth”
“I’m pretty sure it came from you.”
“What? No…” Wait. “Stop distracting me.”
“From what?”
“I was asking why you were giving me that look. That disapproving old father look.”
“Wha-” he stifles a laugh. “What kind of look is that?”
I have to catch myself laughing there. “You know, that… it doesn’t matter. Why aren’t you happy for me?”
***
Her persistence is killing me. It’s one of the features I’ve always admired about her, but I hate it when I’m on the receiving end.
“Well?” She keeps staring at me.
My mind whirls trying to come up with something, but it comes up empty. I start to panic, but that’s when I see her eyes light up with realization.
“Wait, is this about the last guy?”
“What?”
“Because, I swear that will never happen again, I learned my lesson! I’m pretty good in detecting red flags now, and I promise this time he’s a green flag. Because-”
She keeps going, and I let her. She catches me staring again, and speeds up. I feel relieved, at least now she’s occupied enough to forget about my reaction. I watch her for a while, but there’s something weird about her behavior. Wait, why is she speeding up? She does that only when…
“Okay, hold up. Breathe.” As soon as I interrupt, she looks a little relieved. I make sure our eyes meet before I ask, “Why do you sound like you’re hiding something?”
There’s a flicker of fear that passes behind her eyes, so quick that it’s gone in a matter of nanoseconds. She recovers herself fast, but not fast enough. At least not for me.
***
He raises his eyebrows at me, waiting for an answer. I avert my eyes while my mind works like a broken washing machine. There’s a weird rhythm to my thoughts as I contemplate my next move. Come up with a proper sounding cover story? Not possible, at least not with what my mind is working with right now. Tell the truth? Nope, not even an option.
He narrows his eyes a little, looks me straight in the eyes, and slowly blinks. A chill climbs up my spine. Taking his sweet time and drawing me right into the silence, he finally says, “So this guy, how is he different from the last guy?”
And his tone says it all. He knows I’m lying. Fine, if he’s taking that route, then I’ll counter it by dragging him right into my narrative.
“Oh, he’s amazing,” I start with an exaggerated tone. “He is such a good listener. He lets me finish before asking the right questions, and I don’t feel any pressure to wrap up my talks either, unlike some people who silently urge you to stop talking with their stares.”
He huffs a little.
“Oh, and I feel so at ease with him. You know with certain people, you feel so comfortable even the silences feel fine? It’s like that with him.”
He winces at that. But he recovers quickly. “You got that from what, one date?”
Oof. But is that jealousy I detect? I shrug, “You just know with some people.”
His fists are clenched so hard, his knuckles have turned white. I bet he hasn’t noticed. I smile internally; this feels like a win. I know that “How about with me?” is on the verge of his tongue. If only I could make him admit it.
I look him straight in the eyes.
He opens his mouth to say something, pushing me to the edge of my seat. “But does it really have to be him? I bet you can find such a person elsewhere, like-”
“Like-”
“And here’s your noodles, enjoy!”
And my battle is lost.
Cover image by Mike Dinsmore