Chapter 11 - A Dinner Without a Mask| The first thing Julian noticed about Dela outside the restaurant was that she looked exhausted.
The second was that she had tried to hide it.
They met in the lobby after a long Thursday shift. Julian had intended to ask her about a scheduling question, but when he saw her sitting on a bench with her eyes closed and her head resting against the wall, he reconsidered.
“Long night?”
Dela opened her eyes.
“Long week.”
“Would you like a ride home?”
“No, thank you.”
“Would you like dinner?”
She looked at him suspiciously.
“Are you asking because you own the restaurant?”
“No.”
“Because you feel guilty about my hours?”
“No.”
“Because you need someone to explain the employee reporting system?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then why?”
Julian paused.
“Because I would like to have dinner with you.”
The directness of the answer surprised them both.
Dela sat up.
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“I believe that is what people call it.”
“Do you often ask women out after investigating their workplace?”
“Never.”
“Good. It would be a terrible habit.”
“I'll keep that in mind.”
She studied him for a moment.
“I'm not interested in being somebody's charity project.”
“You've made that clear.”
“And I don't want special treatment at work.”
“Then we won't discuss work.”
“You're a difficult man to trust, Julian Rock.”
He accepted that without argument.
“I know.”
Something in his voice made her reconsider. He had not tried to charm his way past her concerns. He had simply acknowledged them.
“One dinner,” she said. “Somewhere ordinary. No private dining room. No restaurant owned by your company.”
Julian smiled.
“I know a place.”
Twenty minutes later, they sat in a small Italian restaurant on a side street, where the tables were close together and the menu had been taped to the wall for so long that the corners had curled.
The owner greeted Julian by name.
“You're late,” the man said.
“I've been busy.”
“You're always busy.”
“Apparently, that's a character flaw.”
“Finally, you admit it.”
Dela watched their exchange with interest.
“You come here often?”
“Not enough,” Julian said.
They ordered pasta and shared a plate of fried zucchini. For the first time, Julian did not look at his phone between courses.
Dela told him about growing up in a two-bedroom apartment, about her mother's love of old movies, and about the college courses she had postponed when medical bills began to accumulate.
Julian spoke about his uncle, Samuel, who had taken him into the family business when he was twenty-four.
“He wasn't my father,” Julian said. “But he was the closest thing I had to one.”
“What happened?”
“He died last autumn. A sudden stroke.”
“I'm sorry.”
Julian looked down at his glass.
“Everyone expected me to go back to work immediately. They kept saying Samuel would have wanted the company protected.”
“Would he?”
“Yes. But I think he would also have wanted me to remember that the company wasn't the only thing worth protecting.”
Dela listened without interrupting.
“My mother used to say that grief makes you selfish,” she said eventually. “Not because you stop caring about people. Because you're so busy surviving your own pain that you forget other people are hurting too.”
Julian looked at her.
“Is that what happened to you?”
“Sometimes.”
“Are you still hurting?”
She smiled faintly.
“Most people are. They just get better at carrying it.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Julian reached across the table, stopping before his hand touched hers.
“May I?”
Dela looked at his hand.
She could have made a joke. She could have changed the subject.
Instead, she placed her fingers in his.
“Yes.”
The gesture was small, almost ordinary.
But Julian felt something shift inside him.
He had spent months trying to rebuild a life around the absence of one person. Sitting across from Dela, he realized that a new life would not replace what he had lost.
It would simply make room for something else.
When they left the restaurant, he walked her to the bus stop.
“Can I see you again?” he asked.
Dela looked up at him.
“Yes. But next time, I choose the place.”
“Deal.”
“And you have to eat something other than sea bass.”
“That's a severe condition.”
“Then you'd better think carefully.”
She boarded the bus with a smile.
May you like
Julian watched it pull away, and for the first time in a long while, he did not feel the need to return immediately to his office.
He walked the opposite direction, slowly, carrying the strange and fragile hope that the next day might hold something beyond work.
Related Stories
