the restaurant

inspired by taylor swift's "right where you left me"

written by saee j.
photos by ali k.
graphics by riley s.

The restaurant had an especially romantic ambiance tonight. The dark brocade drapes on the windows, the soft light emitting from the centerpiece lamps, the crystal glasses waiting to be filled with rich red wine. The leather-bound menu embossed in gold lettering set in front of her. It was unneeded. She had it memorized, and she knew exactly what she wanted to order tonight.

This restaurant had been theirs for years. They had come here to celebrate every special occasion since their first date over eight years ago. The day she got her first teaching job in the city and Tony took over his dad’s garage, their engagement. Even their honeymoon had been a nice dinner at the restaurant after a night spent at a 3-star hotel, the two of them unable to afford any lavish trips as newlyweds.

Now, here she was again, waiting to have their anniversary dinner together for the fourth year in the same chair, at the same table. But she never tired of it. Never tired of Tony’s smiling face illuminated by the warm light, his hand grasping hers on the spotless linen tablecloth.

She thought back to the first time she had been here, a nervous 18 year old girl waiting for the handsome boy who had asked her out at her first college party.

I check the grandfather clock near the window. 7:25pm. Crap. Was I being too eager by showing up so early? Five minutes isn’t TOO early, is it? Before I can panic further, I see Tony stride in.

“I’m so sorry,” he utters breathlessly. “Were you waiting long?”

I shake my head, a little mesmerized by the put-together man in front of me that was a far cry from the slightly drunk guy that had asked for my number a week ago.

He plops heavily into his chair and runs his hands through his hair. “So, have you taken a look at the menu? I’ve heard great things about their salmon.”

I glance at the menu, then slide my eyes over to the prices. Woah. If the decor hadn’t given it away before, the prices made it clear this was a fancy place.

Tony must sense my hesitation, because he chuckles. “Dinner is on me, okay? Order whatever looks good.”

I stare at him. Tony was a freshman in college, like me. His family owned an auto repair shop, so they weren’t exactly loaded. But it’s rude to discuss finances on a first date, right? I decided to order the cheapest thing on the menu.

“So,” I begin nervously. “How are classes?”

Tony quickly launches into detailed descriptions of his business classes. It all sounds like gibberish to me, but for some reason, watching him wave his hands about so enthusiastically brings a warmth to my chest. We spend the rest of the dinner like that, conversation flowing so easily that not even the arrival of our food could stem it.

Before we know it, the waiter brings over the check with a pointed “ahem”. I look around, realizing we are the only ones in the restaurant.

Tony chuckles. “I guess we got caught up in the conversation, huh?” He reaches for the check. I catch his widened eyes and slight panic before it is swiftly replaced with his smile as he places his card in the book. I hide a giggle, silently promising myself that I will cover our next date. Because there will be a next one.

When I get home that night, my roommates badger me for details. I tell them everything, except for one thought that I keep to myself, unwilling for it to see the light of day just yet. My absolute certainty, fueled by all of the naivete of an 18 year old girl, that one day, I will marry that boy

Her thoughts were interrupted by the approaching waiter.

“Good evening, ma’am, can I get you started with something to drink while you wait for your companion?” he asked politely.

She went to spout off their usual bottle of cabernet, but stopped short. “I’ll just take a water with some lemon, thank you.”

He nodded. “Of course, ma’am.”

As he walked away, she checked the grandfather clock. 7:45pm. She sighed impatiently. Tony was working an evening shift at the garage, and a 7:30pm reservation was cutting it close. But she had been getting tired earlier lately, and she wanted to be alert for their dinner.

Business had taken off at the garage. Tony had worked tirelessly to update the building and machinery and organize the jumble of finances his father had left behind. Between that and her taking a summer school position for the extra income, they had hardly had time for each other anymore. But she knew how happy their work made them, so she couldn’t begrudge either of them that

We enter the restaurant hand in hand, snowflakes powdering our hair and coats. The hostess–the same one who has been greeting us for the past three years–smiles and points us to our usual table. I have news to share with Tony today, and I am bursting with anticipation. But with the glances and smiles Tony has been giving me, I think he has news to share as well.

As we settle into our seats, I grab his hand. “Okay, you go first,” I say, because as excited as I am, I can tell he is, too.

“What–how-how did you know I had news?” he sputters. I laugh. Tony can’t hide things to save his life.

“Don’t ever play poker, Tony,” I tease.

“Okay, fine. Let’s say both of our things together,” he decides.

I know we’re both going to talk over each other and have to repeat ourselves anyway, but I humor him. “Okay, one, two, three.”

“I’m taking over my dad’s garage!”

“I got a teaching job in the city!”

As expected, we fall into a fit of giggles and then repeat ourselves once we have calmed down. Tony launches into all of the changes he plans to make to the garage–ever the talker in our relationship. But his eyes sparkle and I just want him to keep talking to me in this little restaurant forever

She was startled from her reverie by the waiter placing her glass of lemon water in front of her. A look at the grandfather clock told her that another 15 minutes had passed. She started to worry a bit now. It wasn’t like Tony to be so late without letting her know.

She leaned down to grab her phone from her purse by her feet, hoping Tony had sent her a text to explain his delay. But her search for her purse was distracted by the gift bag sitting next to it. An unbidden smile came to her face.

They didn’t often get each other anniversary presents, beyond the occasional bouquet of flowers and a card, or a box of their favorite chocolates and a bottle of wine. This year, however, she had gone all out with her gift. She had been waiting for this day for weeks, picturing a thousand different scenarios of how Tony might react. In fact, the last time a gift this monumental had been exchanged between them was five years ago, in this very same restaurant

I’ve been sitting alone at our table for ten minutes, bursting with curiosity on why Tony insisted we drive here separately. I’m a little miffed, honestly, because I’m not a fan of driving. Although my annoyance probably also stems from Tony hurrying me out the door nearly fifteen minutes before him.

Just as I’m about to text him, I see him stumble in.
“I’m so sorry,” he utters breathlessly. “Were you waiting long?”
“Tony, you knew when I left the house,” I say, confused. “You know exactly how long I’ve been waiting here.”

He doesn’t respond, collapsing in his chair before grabbing the menu.
“So, have you taken a look at the menu? I’ve heard great things about their salmon.”
Oh. I get it now. He’s trying to recreate our first date. I don’t understand why. It’s not like today is our anniversary or anything. But I play along anyway.

“Looks expensive, “ I remark.
“Dinner is on me, okay? Order whatever looks good.”
Well, at least this time I know he can actually afford it.
We spend the rest of the date pretending to be those 18 year olds again, and it’s freeing in a way. Tony and I love each other as much as we ever have, but the stress of life and adulthood means we rarely get to be as carefree as we were in the beginning.

I don’t understand his ploy until we step out of the restaurant into the crisp October air.
“Can I kiss you goodnight?” he smirks.
I realize suddenly that we are standing in the same spot he kissed me goodnight after our first date, all those years ago.
“You don’t have to ask,” I reply.
He leans in, but instead of feeling his lips on mine, I feel them whisper in my ear.
“Will you marry me?”
I rear back, shocked. Suddenly, the whole night makes sense. Tears spring to my eyes. This man remembered every detail from our first date, more than four years ago. He was paying attention.
I throw my arms around his neck and touch my forehead to his. The tears are blurring my vision and I can’t even see the ring he is pulling out of his pocket, but that hardly matters.
“Yes, yes, YES!""

“Ma’am?”
She jumped. The same waiter that had brought her water was back.
“Ma’am, is there someone we can call?” he asked.
Call? Why would someone need to be called, other than Tony? Speaking of, she should really get on that.

The waiter was still standing there. She supposed she should respond to him.
“No, I’m fine, thank you. I’m just waiting for my husband to join me. It’s our anniversary tonight," she said.

This waiter must be new. Almost all of the staff here knew her and Tony. And he really needed to stop calling her ma’am. It was making her feel ancient.
The waiter glanced behind him at someone else.
“Ma’am, the restaurant is closed.”

What? A look at the grandfather clock told her that it was indeed 10:30pm, 30 minutes past closing time.
“I’m just waiting for my husband,” she insisted. “He’ll be here soon. Here, let me call him now.”
She reached down to her purse, but the sight of her hand stopped her. In place of the smooth, unscarred skin that should display her 26 years was skin that showed signs of aging, wrinkles and sun spots.
What was going on?

The waiter had apparently fled and sent the owner in his place. She sighed in relief at seeing a familiar face, although Brad seemed to have aged considerably since the last time she saw him, maybe six months ago.
“Maybe you should take some time off, Brad,” she laughed. “It seems like the stress of running the place is catching up to you.”

Instead of chuckling like she expected, Brad just looked at her with the most sorrowful expression she had ever seen on him.
“You have to move on. This isn’t healthy.”
She looked at him, bewildered. Move on?
“Move on from what?”
“Tony is gone, Amelia. He is gone. He isn’t coming back. Please accept that,” he murmured. An acute panic started bubbling within her, starting from the tips of her fingers. Why was Brad talking like this?

He’ll be here soon,” she repeated. “He’s just late closing up the garage.”

Brad grasped her arm, his grip bordering on desperate. “Fifteen years, Amelia. It has been fifteen years.” Although his tone was gentle, the words were harsh.

She pulled her arm away, starting to feel overheated in her cardigan sweater. Wait. Sweater? She had left the house wearing a white dress, Tony’s favorite. Where did the sweater and pants come from?

Her heart beat faster. Sweat began beading on her forehead. Her breath came in short gasps.

“It’s our anniversary tonight, Brad. You know this,” she tried. “We’ve come here every year on this day for the past four years.”

A thought occurred to her. Her gift for Tony! She looked down, sighing in relief at the sight of the gift bag still at her feet. Now she could prove Brad wrong, and maybe send him home to get some rest, since he clearly wasn’t feeling well.

She grabbed the bag and dug inside, pulling out a slim box. “Look, see. I packed this gift for him,” she said.

She opened the box…and her heart dropped to her feet. Nestled inside was a pregnancy test. But the window that once held a plus sign was now blank, the test clearly expired and old.

“But–but I took it. This morning! This morning, it was positive,” she babbled. This was her gift to Tony, her most important gift. The gift she had spent days fantasizing his reaction over.

“Brad,” she whispered feebly. “What is happening?”

But before she could hear Brad’s response, memories began to assault her. Her sitting in this chair on this exact night, fifteen years ago. Watching the hands on the grandfather clock pass seven-thirty, seven forty five, eight o’clock. Getting a call from the hospital. Rushing over, watching Tony be taken into surgery. The doctors’ faces, morose and pitying. Losing her husband and her child in one night.

She wasn’t twenty-six year old Amelia, wife and mother-to-be, waiting for Tony to join her. She was forty-one year old Amelia, widowed and childless. Stuck in the reminiscence of her past, when the love of her life was still with her. Stuck in grief, collecting dust waiting for someone who would never come. Still in the restaurant, right where he left her. Trapped in the echoes of the past, tethered to a life she never got to live.

Now what?