The blank look in her eyes bore into me
as her stare transferred to me from the fire. She cocked her head,
then glanced down at the menu. My gaze followed her own, and I picked
up the booklet, holding it between us to avoid her big, piercing grey
eyes. I looked inside.
It was blank. There was embroidery
around the edges, and a series of prices along the right side, the
numbers of which I couldn't quite make out, but there was no food
being offered. I realized this with a calm acceptance, and put the
menu back on the table. Within seconds a waiter returned to remove it
from my side. I realized I wasn't hungry anyway. I folded my legs
beneath the table and clasped my hands in my lap, no longer able to
avoid her gaze.
“You're new here,” she said. It
wasn't a question, but a state of fact. I nodded minutely. Her own
head bobbed as well, and she leaned over the table. Those grey eyes
seemed to suck me into them, holding my own, pulling me towards her.
Now I was leaning on the table, too. She reached across it and
wrapped her hands around mine. Her whisper seemed to come from every
direction, filling all my senses like a burst levee: “It's not what
you think... this place... it's—”
“Sarah, what did we talk about?”
the attendant was at her side, in the midst of cramming the time
piece into his pocket. The woman jumped, startled, then her eyes fell
to her lap. He placed his hand on her shoulder when it was done
fumbling with the watch, and she sighed as she pushed her chair back
from the table. The attendant smiled at me with a mumbled “excuse
us” and the two turned and walked off. I fingered the hem of the
tablecloth as I watched them walk away. He was whispering loudly into
her ear as she hung her head. His hand was still on his shoulder,
gripping firmly. He turned and looked over his shoulder at me, his
face changing quickly from a harsh, reproachful one to the smile he
had given me before.
They disappeared through the door at
the far end of the cart.