Make-Up

She seemed to waft in, like the exotic perfume that enveloped her, alerting us to her presence even before she got into the room.

Dainty steps.... dainty steps.....

The wait staff leapt to attention guiding her through an arc to an inner secluded space, where minutes ago they had declined to seat us.

Large earrings dangled under a honey-blonde asymmetrical bob, as she arranged herself delicately onto the seat held out to her. Her burgundy lips pursed while she regarded the hovering waiter, reading the specials of the day, then with french-tipped fingers, she waved him away without a word. 

Subconsciously, I folded my fingers into my napkin and turned my attention to my companion. We had been chatting about all manner of topics, starting with the weather. We both agreed that it was too cold, but couldn't seem to gather any other talking points about it. We moved on to discussing our jobs. He gave computer lessons to high school children, which I considered about as scintillating as my book-keeping job. Granted we seemed to be united in our dismay at the paths our careers were taking, but our meeting was becoming more a commiseration, than a first date.

As we moved on to what I began to realize was his favourite topic, the honey-blonde beau's iPhone tinkled and I could see her lift it to her ear and nod briefly. She then lifted a finger, causing one of the waiters to rush to her side with a menu. She ran a manicured nail over it, tapped at an item on the page, then waved him away and returned to scrolling on her phone.

I switched back to my date, Fredrick, to find him still lamenting his relationship with his first wife. We had already covered this ground while chatting on the dating app, so I could safely go back to watching her. Tilting my head slightly, to look past Frederick's head, I was just in time to see the chef set up the flambé. The yellow flames bursting forth from 

the pan must have reflected on my spectacles, as my date turned, seeing the pepper steak being plated, on a bed of potato wedges and vegetables, churlishly noted that we had yet to get our fries and marched towards the hostess station to complain, giving me unfettered access to stare to my heart's content.

I was just in time to catch her phone ringing again. She had been listlessly poking at one of the potato wedges. Her lip pouted slightly, then she flicked at her phone listened for a while and sighed. She had picked up her steak knife, when the phone rang again. This time the conversation seemed longer. She lifted another finger and a waiter bustled to her. Another menu was provided and she pointed out an item and turned back to her phone. 

Meanwhile, Fredrick had managed to return to our table with one of the head waiters, who politely explained that their potato-chipper had broken down and they were unable to serve any fries. He proposed that we consider other alternatives.

We were looking through the menu, anxious, because it didn't indicate any prices, when waiters poised expertly with platters covered with a bell-shaped lid, plated a second meal at the honey-blonde beau's table. They lifted the lid to show her what seemed to be chicken teriyaki served with more potato wedges. She motioned for them to set down the food and leave.

Frederick returned to the hostess station, livid, while her phone rang again. This time, she gasped loudly enough for me to hear. "How could you?" She breathed. Then bristled as she listened to the caller's response. After they had disconnected the call, I watched her bury her head in her hands, clearly overcome with emotion. I was rifling through my bag for pocket tissues, when Frederick returned again, triumphant. His complaints had scored us a free meal. He wanted us to go and select a live lobster from a tank, for them to cook. Mutely, I allowed myself to be led away from the agitated woman, even though I couldn't recall ever tasting or liking lobster.

Having selected the doomed crustacean, we returned to our seats, and I anxiously glanced over to the table which had been occupying my mind for most of the evening. The lady's face was still in her hands. She seemed to be racked with tears and was ripping at her hair. I was about to stand up from our table and venture over to her, when her hair detached from her head. Seeing the blonde mop on her hand, I realized stupidly that it was a wig. She tossed it aside, and began to pluck off the tips from her nails and laying them aside until they formed a small heap on the table. She then grabbed her louis vuitton bag, and rummaged a bit before extracting a large white handkerchief, with which she proceeded to rub her face.

 I sat rooted to my chair. The lobster was served and eaten by my date and declared to be sumptuous. I recall raising my fork to my mouth severally, but I could have been eating cardboard, for all I cared.

As if the transformation from Dr. Jekyll to Hyde wasn't sufficient, she pushed aside the cutlery and began chomping at the food as if it was her last meal. The food rapidly disappeared from her plate, the steak was masticated in three bites. Then she turned her attention to the chicken teriyaki and chewed at it enthusiastically, polishing off the remaining potatoes. Finally she let out a burp, and fumbled with the band at her waist. A few tugs and the svelte waistline disappeared. 

I hadn't realized that I had been so engrossed in the goings-on at the table across, until I looked around and saw that Frederick had left. He had been my ride to the restaurant, so I was briefly concerned, until he returned from the gents. Seemly he had had a good evening. He was glad, he said, for my rapped attention. For most of his other dates, he couldn't get in a word sideways, he remarked.

He helped me out of my chair and we made our way to the door, with Fredrick waving cordially at the wait staff. I was about to pull at the door handle when it was flung open, and I collided with a tall guy. His jacket fell off his arm, causing a small case to crash to the floor. He grabbed it and checked it's contents. Something shone from within. He apologized and charged into the restaurant. He seemed vaguely familiar, so I watched him, trying to recall where we has met.

The wait staff greeted him enthusiastically and within minutes several waiters were following behind him, carrying a birthday cake.

I remembered where I had seen him and her...the society pages.

I hoped there was more to the attraction than the make-up.

Turns out there wasn't.