One Good Woman

One Good Woman

 There’s a bug in my seltzer. Musca domestica. It gyrates wildly for a solid thirty seconds before shuddering. 

 I’ve been waiting for the girl I matched with for only five minutes, but my feet are tapping wildly. We met online, on one of those dating apps that are underused or misused. Once I matched with a man wanting feet pictures. That was an uncomfortable conversation. 

 The restaurant we picked was equidistant to our apartments. She lives in Murray Hill - which is where this restaurant is located - and I live in Gramercy. When we matched and she saw my location, she joked that I must be one of the pretentious types to drink seltzer and order calzoni al prosciutto. 

 Unfortunately, I think she’s right.

 A waiter hurriedly walks towards my table. “How’s the seltzer?”

 “It’s fine,” I lie. I’d rather not make a scene. I don’t want to be one of those bitchy types that complains. “Really nice...lime flavor.”

 “Of course. Is your other party member…?”

 “She should be here any minute,” I say. “Just put her down for a water.”

 They nod and walk away. A minute passes, and then finally the door opens. I strain my neck. There’s a woman standing there. My heart jumps a little, until I notice her long black dreads and her dark skin. The girl I matched with is white with alabaster hair. 

 She waves me down. I frown, and then I get a closer look. It’s Alison, from my Arts and Humanity class that I took in college. 

 I wave back. She talks to a server at the front and then makes her way over to me. 

 “Hey!” She wraps her arms around my upper half, embracing me. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

 “Oh, you know me. I’ve been busy with work and all. Haven’t had the time to get out.”

 “I get it. You waiting for someone?”

 “Yeah, I’m supposed to be meeting someone, for a date.”

 “Really? Same here.”

 “Wow, cool.” I don’t know what else to say. I fumble for my seltzer and take a sip, forgetting that the fly is still inside. I cough, feeling it scratch against my oropharynx. 

 Alison immediately pats my back. I think she’s calling for water. 

 “Must have gone down the wrong pipe, eh?” She says, obviously trying to comfort me. I shake my head. 

 “Fly,” I say, between coughs. I hear the door open. The same server from before comes up behind Alison, a large sling glass filled to the brim with water on their tray. I reach for it greedily. “Thanks.”

 As I’m inhaling and exhaling, I notice the girl that I matched with approach the table. 

 “Caroline?” She asks nervously. I nod, still recuperating from the fly. 

 “Yeah, sorry, I just, um, swallowed a fly,” I say, clearing my throat. I notice her crinkle her nose. Alison steps beside me so that the girl can sit. “All good now, though.”

 I notice Alison and the girl staring at each other closely. 

 “Am I missing something?” I ask, frowning.

 The girl laughs weakly. “I didn’t know you knew Alison,” she says, tucking a blonde-white lock behind her ear. I look up at Alison. “Yeah…? And how do you know her?”

 “Why don’t I sit down,” Alison says, glaring at the girl. “And we can talk about it.”

 I feel as though something has transpired that I obviously know nothing about. 

 The girl smiles at me. “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Yasmine.”

 “Caroline,” I say, offering my hand. She doesn’t accept it. I don’t admit to her that I forgot her name. “And Alison…?”

 “We dated in high school,” Yasmine says. The waiter walks over and sets a glass of water down in front of her. “Thanks. And…”

 “And then we broke up. But we got back together in college,” Alison says. “We broke up again because things were difficult. Neither of us really should have been together in the first place.”

 I shift uncomfortably in the booth. “Oh.”

 “But we decided to meet here today because we wanted to discuss our relationship,” Yasmine says lightly. I can see her eyes dart around the room, and I can feel the vibrations that her feet make as they tap against the leg of the table. The waiter returns, setting a glass of water down in front of Alison. 

 “You know, I didn’t think you would do this to me, Minnie,” Alison is gripping her glass tightly. “You’re two-timing, again!”

 “This is not two-timing,” Yasmine turns to me, her eyes pleading. “Right, Caroline?”

 “I-you said that you couldn’t wait to see me? We met on a dating app - I didn’t think that it wasn’t a date, to be honest.”

 Alison glares at Yasmine. 

 The waiter returns, this time carrying sleek eggshell menus in garish Lucida Handwriting font, an odd paradox. They lay them down silently and hurry away from our table, probably wanting to avoid the negative energy. I don’t blame them. 

 “I’m sorry,” Yasmine says, quietly. “I didn’t think you meant...you know. That we were getting back together. It was an honest mistake, Ally. I thought I was meeting you here this weekend, not today.”

 Alison softens. “Really?”

 “Really.”

 I feel like the fly might be coming back up. “Could you guys excuse me?”

 “Sure,” Alison says, standing up so that I can exit. I run to the bathroom. Once inside, I scurry into a stall, preparing myself for the sick that is about to make its appearance.

 But nothing does. I find myself gripping the edges of the toilet, waiting, but nothing happens. Zilch.

 I wait about a minute until I feel comfortable enough to leave. When I do, I see a girl applying lipstick in the wide mirror. 

 She turns to me, and in the fluorescent light I notice her cheeks are lightly stained with black mascara. 

 “Did you get dumped on Valentine’s Day too?”

 I tap my smart watch for the date. It is indeed Valentine’s Day. I hadn’t even realized that it was Valentine’s Day. I look back at her. 

 “Sort of. I’m not sure, exactly.”

 “Well. I did. Romance sucks.” She goes back to reapplying her lipstick. I walk over to the sink beside her, and begin washing my hands. The hot water is scalding. I shake the water off, dry my hands on my pants, then look at her. She’s been crying. 

 “Not always,” I say. “Sometimes it can be a good thing.”

 “How do you know?”

 “Well, I’ve seen love. And I’ve seen romance. Occasionally the two intertwine. It can be a pretty beautiful thing.”

 She sniffs. Her nose is running. “You think?”

 “I know.”

 She nods, and begins to place her makeup back into a small bag, which she drops into a massive purse with a thud. 

 “That’s nice and all, but I don’t know if that’s going to help me out right now.”

 “How about I buy you a drink, and we can talk about it?” 

 Now she looks back at me, her eyes right into mine. They’re a pretty shade of nut brown. 

 “Really?”

 “Totally. It’s on me.”

 “You know,” she says, laughing a little - and it’s a nice laugh, sort of rough and deep - her hair falling in waves, “you’re the one good woman I’ve met in a long while.”

 I smile. “Thanks. I’m Caroline.”

 “Rebecca.”

 The bug in my throat is no longer there. When we walk out of the bathroom, I see Yasmine and Alison deep in conversation. They both seem a little more at ease now. Rebecca and I walk to the bar, the both of us at ease too.