It’s Your Day

I went out to dinner with my friend Nicole tonight. We hadn’t gone out to eat since last April, so I assumed we’d both be talking over one another sharing various tales for two hours. After bitching about how cold it was while walking a hundred feet from her SUV to the door, things took a quick turn upon entering Judie’s in Amherst (Nicole’s all-time favorite restaurant).

“On which side do you want to sit?” the hostess asked.

“It’s your day, bud,” Nicole said without warning. “You pick.”

“We’ll sit on that side,” I said after debating a question I didn’t care about for far too long.

“You can sit by the window or the fire.”

“Chad and I usually sit by the window,” Nicole said about her spouse’s seating preference.

“The fire’s fine,” I said after walking in from twenty-degree weather. Once the hostess departed, I asked Nicole why she pretended it was my birthday.

“It just came out.”

Our waitress stopped by. I ordered the side salad and Nicole did too, with a catch.

“I’ll have the largest possible version of the salad he’s getting.”

“Sure thing.”

When the salads were presented, Nicole and I were each served bowls the exact same size.

“How is that the large salad?” I asked.

“I dunno. Guess I’ll have to order a second one to go with my soup.”

Nicole had ordered two salads during our previous Judie’s visit—why anyone goes to her favorite restaurant only to order soup and salad baffles me—but took the super de-sizing in stride.

About thirty minutes into our meal, the fire feet from our faces began to take its toll.

“I gotta take my fuckin’ sweatshirt off,” I said, a few beads of sweat on my forehead. Nicole—five foot nine and all of one hundred and fifteen pounds—had already begun perspiring.

“Why did you wanna sit by the fire? I don’t ever sweat, and I’m soaked!”

“It is my birthday!”

“True. This is your day,” she said leaning back in her chair with her arms extended upward to avoid the flames engulfing us. “It’s what you wanted.”

Nicole dug in to her second salad and picked up one microgreen the size of a tiny tree, commenting on why she had begun to eat with her hands. Our waitress checked in.

“Sitting by the fire was a bad choice,” I told her. “I’m gonna need a windshield wiper for my forehead. Can we have dessert in your freezer?”

“This happens to everyone who sits here,” the waitress told us. It wasn’t reassuring. Why did Judie want to literally roast her patrons?

Then Nicole struck again.

“It’s his birthday,” she casually informed the waitress. “This is what he wanted.”

“Happy Birthday!” the waitress said.

“Thank you,” I replied in my most unenthusiastic voice, my lips too broiled to feign joy.

“I may need to finish these last bites shirtless,” I said once the waitress left. 

“I’m showering as soon as I get home. Chad’s gonna wonder why I hung out with you and needed to shower before I even hugged him.”

“Well, you tell him it was my birthday.”

“True. ‘Adam wanted to burn us because it was his day.’ He’ll understand.”

The waitress returned to clear my plate while Nicole looked at her still untouched bowl of vegetable soup.

“I’m afraid the soup got hotter while it sat there.”

“You’ll probably run a one hundred and four-degree fever once you finish it.”

“There’s a way to turn this thing off,” she said while unsuccessfully trying to open the fireplace door.

“I think I’ve sweat through the ass of my pants. There’s probably a puddle on my seat.”

The waitress made another stop to ask what I wanted for my birthday dessert.

“We’re gonna split a piece of sticky toffee pudding cake.”

“Good choice!”

I blew out the candle on my birthday dessert before Nicole forgot how this was about me, not her.

“You ordered such an old man dessert,” she said before taking a bite. “And you had to get the one fucking dessert that’s hot! Good thing you didn’t order ice cream. It would’ve melted by now.”

“This has certainly been our most memorable dinner date ever. I’m really glad I got to celebrate my birthday with you.”

Heading for the exit, the waitress wished me a final “Happy Birthday!”

“Thanks again!” I said.

“How old are you now?” Nicole asked me under her breath while I pushed the exit door open.

“Fuck, it’s freezing out!” I replied.

“Good thing I have heated seats!”