Page 9 of You + Me – Against the World

We have drinks on the deck to make the most of the mild Californian fall. Then, all nine of us sit down to dinner, while I keep an eye on my watch. Tim compliments my navy-blue, sleeveless dress several times, and I wonder if I haven’t overdone it—both for the upcoming melodrama and the subsequent “date” that isn’t really a date.

As we start dessert, I see the hand of the large living room clock edging closer to the fateful hour of our planned phone call. I try to control my nervous fidgeting, but without success. My boyfriend discreetly plays footsie with me under the table, and my restless leg sends him the wrong signals. He gives me a knowing smile, which I try to ignore.

At last, Clémentine calls. I answer and step away under my father’s disapproving eye.

“We’re eating, Alma. It can wait!”

“Something must be wrong with Clem, otherwise she wouldn’t be calling me at this hour.”

I act my part as best as I can, then hang up quickly. I return to the table and spill out my lie at breakneck speed just to get it over with. My nervousness at lying to them actually makes the scene more convincing. My mother looks sorry for both me and my friend.

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t let her spend the evening all alone in this state!”

“Tell her to come over. She can sleep here,” my father suggests.

“She doesn’t want to see anyone, let alone adults. I’ll just go to her place, then come back as soon as she feels a bit better.”

“Timothy will go with you.” Mr. Wallace says, shooting his son a pointed look.

“Oh, there’s no need. It’s not far at all. Finish your dinner in peace. I’ll be back in an hour, tops.”

“Are you sure, Alma? I don’t mind.”

“I’ll be fine, Tim. And I know how much you’re looking forward to that pavlova.”

I smile at the ideal boyfriend—according to everyone at the table—who has already gone back for seconds twice.

“Anyway, you know what Clémentine’s like. She doesn’t want to see anyone when she gets into a state like this.”

I slowly back toward the door, praying that my smooth talk is enough to convince them.

“Then hurry up. And take a cardigan. It must be chilly at this hour,” my mother whispers to me, worried not only about an interruption to the dinner she’s putting on, but also her daughter.

“Look both ways before you cross the street, Alma! And don’t talk to strangers!” Lily adds cheekily.

Her little comedy routine saves me. Everyone at the table smiles, and the two mothers launch into a discussion about parental worries and the difficulties of cutting the cord. I take the opportunity to slip away after planting a kiss on Tim’s cheek. He seems just a tiny bit suspicious—though not as much as my brother, who watches me closely, narrowing his eyes as he attempts to figure out what I’m up to.

I stride down the street, barely believing I pulled it off. Then, as soon as the house is out of sight, I break into a sprint. On the way to the Sunset, I call Clémentine, and between breaths I tell her what happened. Giddily, she exclaims that she is proud of me and gives me her final instructions for the success of “Operation Russia.”

***

I find Vadim leaning against the bar and, intoxicated by all this excitement, I don’t think twice before going to tap on his leather-clad shoulder. He spins around, his dark hair whipping through the air. His eyes lock with mine.

“Right on time, Lancaster. So they let you out?”

“I can leave, you know, if you plan on making fun of me all evening.”

“Stay,” he says with a smile. “I didn’t think you would come.”

“What did you want to tell me?”

“‘All evening’… Does that mean you’ve got a midnight curfew or something? Do you want to sit down? What do you want to drink?”

“Actually, I have forty-five minutes. That’s all.”

“Forty-five? You’re joking, right?”

“I actually only have thirty-two minutes left, if I count the trip back.”