Love Pop

Eric pretends to look at the pre-fix menu. He’s discreetly glancing at Sasha, who is silently mouthing the words as she reads hers. While her eyes dart back and forth, she brushes back the dark, curly hair that has fallen around her face. Lately, Erik’s found himself stealing glances like this, wondering to himself how he could ever doubt the strength of his feelings for her.

“This place is sooo…” Sasha pauses, searching for word.

“Bougie?” Eric says, laughing. Sasha smiles and nods in agreement.

After five months of dating, all the key pieces are there. The “official” naming of their relationship, the comfort and ecstasy of great sex, the emotionally vulnerable talks on the couch until the wee hours of the morning. Erik knows that it’s time to say it. Those expected words, ingrained in society. Despite his anxieties surrounding the words, he had felt ready to say it a couple weeks ago. But that was before people’s heads started exploding.

“God, it feels nice to dress up and go out” Sasha says, placing the menu aside. “I feel like I’ve just been cycling between scrubs and sweatpants this past month.”

“At least you cycled out of your sweatpants,” Eric jokes. After years of working from home, he can’t remember the last time he wore anything without a drawstring.

Sasha leans across the table and squeezes his hand. “I really appreciate how patient you’ve been with this crazy shift schedule I’ve been on.” The look of sincerity in her dark brown eyes makes Eric melt.

“Aww, of course. I’m just happy you were able to get the night off. I want tonight to be special, and…uh, I know you’ve wanted to see some sign of–”

“I’m so sorry to interrupt.” The waiter snuck up to the table and is hesitantly looking at them. He delicately lowers the first course dish onto the table. “Seasonal grapes, soaked in lemon juice and rolled in a crust of brie and toasted almonds. Enjoy!”

“This, looks…interesting?” Sasha grabs one of the brown, crumbly balls and bits into it. “Oh! It’s juicy!” she exclaims, giggling as she wipes away the liquid sliding down her chin.

Eric chuckles. I could never get tired of her silly reactions, he thinks.

He grabs a crusted grape and tentatively puts it in his mouth. As he bites down, the juices gush out into his mouth, and he suddenly thinks of the gory images from the Click Clack video he’d watched earlier that day. It was of a man, kneeling on a beach at sunset, proposing to his girlfriend. Just as he’s finished declaring his feelings for her, there’s a loud popping sound, and an explosion of–

“What do you think?” Sasha interrupts his thoughts, looking at him expectantly.

“Definitely…interesting.” Eric replies, gulping down the juicy mash. He tries to push the video out of his mind, but it lingers. He clears his throat. “Okay, where was I?”

“You were just about to declare your L.O.V.E. for me.” Sasha grins.

“Ha! You wish you were so lucky!” Eric barks, grinning. Stop thinking about the video…

“But seriously,” Sasha continues. “I know you've had difficulties with expressing it in the past. And I appreciate you sharing the conversations you’re having with your therapist about it.”

“Difficulties” is an understatement, Eric thinks. Disastrous is more like it. In one relationship, he’d said it and truly meant it. But when his feelings had faded a couple years later, he’d anguished and resented himself after having to reveal this. The experience had made him hesitant to say it ever since. He felt that, once you said it, there was no going back. Like stepping over a precipice, where the only two exit options were pain or death.

Sasha continued. “I hope you can feel comfortable enough to say it, when you’re ready. And I hope the fact that I feel ready to say it, hasn’t made you feel any pressure.”

Eric tries to choose his words carefully. “I really appreciate you being patient with me. To be completely honest, I was ready to say it a few weeks ago, and I had planned this to be a special night where I would express it. And then, with the whole head popping thing, some of those old anxieties and self-doubt started creeping in...”

Sasha pulls her hand back and turns her eyes up to the ceiling. She takes a deep breath and then loudly exhales. “I know we've had some disagreements over this "phenomenon" lately…"

Her use of air quotes irritates Eric, but he tries to ignore it.

Sasha continues. “…And I can understand how upsetting it can be to see these videos that are all over social media. But at the same time, I hope you can understand my skepticism of these “reports” coming out.”

Those damn air quotes. Eric bites his lip to keep from snapping at her. He has accepted that she is the more rational of the two of them, and he doesn’t blame her skepticism of the reports. She’s a physician, after all, and there doesn’t seem to be any logical reason why a head can suddenly explode just because the person utters a word without truly meaning it. But he also feels that science can't explain everything, and why would so many people go through the effort of faking this?

Eric’s quiet introspection encourages Sasha to continue.

“And what if it is true? Is the word just dropped from our language?  I mean, who would risk death for a word? Is it never again expressed because everyone is afraid that they don’t completely mean it in the moment? I think that the ridiculousness of things like this are exposed when you examine the true implications of what it would mean for society.”

Eric senses she isn’t done and decides to stay quiet and let her finish. He can feel the tension rising.

“And what has the CDC said? The NHS? The institutions with the actual ability to speak on a widespread “phenomenon” like this?” Sasha punctuates the last words with sweeping hand gestures.

“How about I look it up!” Eric yanks his phone out of his pocket. He feels tense and warm in his suit. He pulls up a news report. “Okay, this article from today says that the CDC is evaluating it and determining the validity of the reported “phenomenon”.” He overly exaggerates the air quotes.

Sasha nods and sighs. “Exactly…so we basically don’t know yet if it’s real or not, and I think something as ridiculous as this can be assumed to be fake until solid evidence is…oh, and I was hoping we wouldn’t use our phones tonight.”

“I just wanted to show you–”

“You don’t need to prove it though. I know that–”

“But I do, it’s literally life or death!”

“Can we just drop this!”

As if on cue, the waiter appears with the second course. Eric is certain that the waiter senses the tension, as he sets the dish down without any description before quickly pivoting away.

They eat in awkward silence. The food is delicious, but Eric’s stomach is in knots from their tiff.

"This is good." Eric says curtly.

"Yep," Sasha responds, devoid of emotion.  

Eric scans the room while he eats. Couples of all types and ages are eating the same Valentine’s Day dinner as he and Sasha. Most look happy, but even the ones who don’t at least look sure of themselves, as if they have accepted what their relationship is and are fine with it. He yearns for that certainty.

"I love you, Martha." The words make Eric flinch. He whips his head around to look at an elderly couple sitting at the table next to them. The man raises his glass of wine to toast.

"Oh, I love you too George. Happy Anniversary." The elderly woman replies, her voice trembling, as she raises her glass to meet his.

"Awww, see Eric!" Sasha whispers, leaning forward and nudging her head towards the old couple’s table. "Now there's a couple not afraid to say it."

Sasha turns and quietly claps towards the couple. "Congratulations you two! If you don’t mind me asking, how many years has it been?"

Martha smiles radiantly as she sets her glass down and turns to Sasha. "Why, thank you dear! Well, gosh, let’s see, I believe it’s been…57 years?"

"Actually, 58 years darling", George corrects her, smiling proudly.

“Awww.” Sasha looks back at Eric, her eyes glistening with tears, before turning back to Martha and George. "I don’t mean to pry…but…were there ever any doubts about your L.O.V.E. for each other?"

George chuckles at hearing the word spelled out. "Never" he says, reaching to grab Martha's hand and staring into her eyes. "I knew I'd always love her from the moment I first laid eyes on her." George turns to face them. "How about you kids, is there love in the air?"

"Well…" Sasha looks at Eric, "I think I can speak for both of us and say that there is definitely a strong connection. We haven't said it yet though, and with these stories about people heads–"

"Oh, that's a bunch of hogwash!" George interrupts her, swatting away the words with his hand like he’s swatting a fly. “I saw that nonsense on Fox News, sounds like another ploy by the Dems to scare people and tear down the institution of marriage. I say you kids don't worry about all that. Just go off of what you feel." He turns to Eric. "Son, do you feel it in your gut? Do you get butterflies when you stare into her eyes." Eric nods. "Well, then, I think that settles it!” George gives a satisfied nod and turns back to Martha.

“Well, you heard the man, that settles it.” Sasha says, crossing her arms and smirking at Eric.

“You know what? You’re right, babe, absolutely right.” Eric makes an exaggerated show of cracking his knuckles. “Okay, here goes nothing.” He grabs Sasha’s hand.

“Sasha Rose Thompson. I, Eric Joseph Osmonovich, with all my heart…would like to tell you…that…I…looo…..wered the garage door before we left.” Eric chuckles at Sasha’s horrified face, which morphs into a grin.

“Oh yeah? Well, I looo……aned your precious PS5 out to somebody from work, hope you don’t mind.” She grins.

“That’s okay, I Ioooo–”

A champagne cork pops a few tables away, and they both flinch, and then look at each other, giggling.

“Wow, we’re ridiculous” Sasha chuckles.

The waiter brings the third course. Chicken confit. The tension fades as they relax, eating and drinking and trading wordless glances at each other. When the fourth and final course arrives, a plate of dark chocolate drizzled cream puffs, they are back to their playful selves.

Eric watches Sasha savoring the desert, her eyes closed and a slight smile on her face. He feels calm, and comfortable. Deciding to seize the moment, he recalls the sensory grounding technique his therapist has taught him.

I see her red manicured nails, and her dark lipstick.

I smell her muted, lavender-scented perfume.

“What?” Sasha asks, noticing Eric staring at her.

I hear the background din of the restaurant, the pots and pans clanking in the kitchen.

I taste the lingering bitter-sweetness of the chocolate.

I feel the napkin in my lap. The sweat trickling down my spine…

“What? Why are you staring at me like that, ya dork.” Sasha teases.

"I'm ready.” Eric says, as calmly and sincerely as he can.

Sasha’s eyes widen. “Are you sure? I really don’t want you to feel–”

“Yes,” Eric interrupts, grabbing her hand. “I’m sure.”

Tears well up in Sasha’s eyes. “Oh god, you haven’t even said anything yet and I’m falling apart.” She laughs, choking back tears. She dabs her eyes with her napkin, careful not to smudge her makeup. Taking a deep breath, she exclaims “Okay, let’s say it at the same time.”

Eric squeezes Sasha’s hand. They look each other in the eyes. Emotion wells up in Eric. He feels intimacy, joy, and awe all at once. He feels…it. The word that has caused so much anxiety. He knows it now. There is no doubt.

"Eric…" Sasha begins.

"Sasha..." Eric follows.

"…I.."

"…I.."

"…love..."

“…love…”

“…you.”

“…you.”

They both stare at one another, holding their breath. Eric feels hyper aware of all sensations, waiting for a sign of pressure building in his head. A tense moment passes, and they both exhale.

Eric smiles at Sasha. “I love you. God, it feels so good to say it!”

Tears stream down Sasha’s face. “I…love you too, so much…” she says, sniffling and laughing at herself.

With her hand in his, Eric feels like they are a connected circuit, an uninterrupted flow of electrical charge. They love each other.

A middle-aged man, dressed in an expensive looking suit and with silver-streaked, slicked-back hair, saunters up their table. “Good evening, folks. I’m the manager here at La Faim. I hope everything was to your satisfaction.” The man’s exaggerated smile unnerves Eric.

The man continues. “And how did you enjoy our pre-fix menu tonight?”

“It was great!” Sasha says, politely.

“And how about you sir?” The man turns to Erik.

Erik responds reflexively, “Oh, uh, yes, I love–”

Pop!