Leftovers and Late Lovers

“Hey, James. Are you going to eat that leftover Chinese?” Dan walked into my room holding a steaming bowl of orange chicken and chow mein. A noodle wrapped fork in transit to his mouth.

I rolled my eyes at his reflection in my bedroom mirror as he stood behind me, remorseless. “I was.”

“Ooops. My bad.” Not willing to dwell on it, he eyed me over, looking for an excuse to change the subject. “You going out? Can I come?”

“Yes, and definitely not.”

His eyes exploded in a knowing glee. “You’ve got a date!” Another stolen mouthful of orange chicken. “Should have known by how you’re preening your hair in the mirror. Don’b worby I—” Gulp. “I cut your hair myself, looks great.”

“You cut my hair with one hand because you were holding a beer in the other. Sorry if I don’t have that much faith.”

I quit fussing and turned to him, not wanting to let him be right. He was half-a-foot shorter than me but stood in my doorway, holding the last of my Golden Dragon takeout, with the confidence of a giant. Dan was my best friend, had been since a ninth-grade science class neither of us paid any attention to, and now my roommate. We were both in our last year at separate Universities and enjoying it a bit too much.

“So, who’s this date with? Anyone I know?”

“Erica.” I pinched at the denim shirt I was wearing. “Does this outfit look okay?”

“Erika with a K?” He pointed his fork towards a pile of clothes on my already disheveled bed. “Wear the khakis though.”

“Good call, and no, Erica with a C.”

Dan gave me an impressed whistle. “Dang, what’s that like four years now? What’s going on there?”

“Five actually, and I’m not really sure.” I stripped off the jeans I’d been wearing and started throwing on the khakis as we talked. Dan continued eating, unphased by our usual lack of boundaries. “I mean, we’ve had this weird, sort of hostile, flirtationship forever, but she’s been at school on the other side of the country the whole time. It’s different, now that she's in Toronto too.”

“Five years though, that’s wild. I can’t imagine why you’d put up with that for so long.” His lips curled into a sinister, knowing smile. “oooooh, I get it. She sends you a bunch of scandy pictures, doesn’t she?”

“No…” I pinched my face into an exaggerated coyness.

“Must be nice.”

“It really is. They’re tasteful, she has a real eye for photography, wasted on law school.” I did another once over of myself and checked my breath against my palm. “I should probably go soon; she’d kill me if I were late.”

“Where’re you going anyway?” Dan ambled into our microscopic downtown apartment kitchen and I followed.

“It’s some kind of street food and wine tasting event. She said something about bright cellars. Apparently, you take a quiz, and they’ll bring you the wine you’ll like the most. She’s really bourgeois, hence law school.”

He looked back at me baffled. “Wait. You’re going to a wine tasting?”

“Correct.”

“You don’t drink.”

“Also correct.”

“That’s ridiculous. Is she aware you don’t?”

I shrugged. “Well aware. Like I said it’s a hostile relationship, all sexual tension and head games. Trust me, if it were up to me, we’d be getting chicken and waffles at dirty bird.”

“Mmmmm dirty bird.”

“Alright, well I’m leaving. Don’t wait up.” I walked through the door and locked it behind me.

Dan’s muffled yell came through the door. “Hate you.”

Erica was standing at a street corner, waiting for me when I got there. She was a gorgeous girl; you could tell even from down the block. A lilac-coloured sundress and floral print heels. Sandy hair tied in a loose bun with curling strands that fell at the sides of her face.

“You’re late, James.” She glared at me with those big overcast eyes, a sign of her coming storm.

“You said seven.” I made a show of checking my watch, knowing full well the battery was dead.

“If you made me wait, you’re late.” Her mouth curled into a vicious smirk, the rest of her features radiating disapproval. She wanted to see me squirm. “And are you calling me a liar? You’re not off to a particularly good start. Did you at least bring the tickets?”

I pulled the two tickets from my back pocket and held them out for her to see. “Got them right here, and no I wasn’t I jus—”

Snatching both tickets, she spun on her heels and strode off, a feat made all the more impressive by her choice of footwear. I stood there enjoying the sight of it all, as did a few more guys on the street.

Oh, I am so in over my head.

I caught up to her quickly and we made our way to the event. It was at a courtyard just off the Ryerson campus. Erica seemed to know the goings-on of Toronto better than I did and she’d only just moved here. A dozen or so food trucks were parked along the edges of a paved courtyard with painted picnic tables at the center. There was white ranch style fencing around the entire thing with a flower covered archway at the entrance.

A clean-cut man was standing at the archway. He had on a floral button-up with short sleeves and what looked like painfully tight white pants. “Tickets please.”

Erica presented the tickets, and he gave her a small, stiff piece of paper and then handed another to me.

“What’s this for?” I asked.

The man feigned exaggerated surprise. “It’s our questionnaire. It’s a lot of fun.” He seemed to be siphoning any enthusiasm I had and using it himself. “Just fill out the questions on that sheet and we’ll pair you with the wine best suited to your palette. The first glass is included with your ticket.”

“Oh… I don’t drink.”

He stared at me, befuddled, then looked to Erica for clarity, she just shrugged “More for me.” Wicked glee in her voice as she snatched mine and danced off.

When I caught up to her, she’d already claimed one of the picnic tables and was filling out her answers with more focus than I would have thought necessary. “I can’t decide if I’m more of a milk chocolate or white chocolate person.”

“You like milk chocolate more, you just think you like white because you have it so seldom.”

She looked up at me, her brow scrunched in skepticism. “How would you know that?”

“Because you told me.” I sat at the seat opposite her. “Remember last June? You drunk dialed me at three in the morning and spent almost forty-five minutes talking about your love of kinder eggs. Those things are basically just double milk chocolate.”

“Oh.” The harshness of her expression faded, and she began to blush. “I didn’t think you’d remember that.”

“I remember everything you tell me.”

“Ew, don’t do that.” Erica stood and made for one of the food trucks with that same stern stride.

I followed. “What do you mean don’t?”

“Don’t be sweet like that, it’s not our thing.” She said, facing straight ahead and refusing eye contact in line for a food truck serving Egyptian food. “What do you want?”

“You can order for me, and you like it when I’m cute.”

“Really? Anything?” She turned to me with the excitement of a sugared-up toddler.

An Egyptian man with a shaved head and what was obviously a tattooed-on hairline poked his head from the truck. “Good afternoon. What can I get for the lovely couple?”

“Can we get one order of ferakh and one kofta? Also, I have these.”

She handed him the two surveys and a pair of twenty-dollar bills. He in turn gave her a thin metal rod with a number six on it and a handful of change. “Thank you, young lady. Someone will bring the food to your table soon.”

Back at the table, Erica and I continued our bickering, but it felt softer now. It could have just been the promise of food weakening her resolve, but I enjoyed it regardless. Before long a young man wearing the same outfit as the one at the entrance came to our table holding a tray with our food and her wine. “Hi, folks. Here’s your food, and it looks like you both picked the same wine. That’s so cute.”

As soon as the waiter placed a wine glass in front of me Erica claimed it for herself. “No, they’re both mine.”

The poor waiter just stood there stunned for a moment. “Well, uh, it’s a great choice.” He composed himself and started over. “A soft velvety merlot from Southern California with a decadent aftertaste. Please enjoy.” Then a quick escape.

“You scared the poor guy off, are you happy now?”

“Very.” She took a bite of what I guessed was the ferakh and chased it with a slow, deep sip of wine. “Damn, I love merlot.”

We sat there for what felt like hours teasing one another, eating delicious food I couldn’t pronounce, and flirting. As the sun set it was replaced by the dim glow of overhanging icicle lights that would have felt cheesy at any other moment but then. By the time the event was closing we’d been there three hours and significantly overstayed our welcome. Rather than end the night we walked the downtown streets in the warm summer air.

Erica held on to my arm and rested her head against my shoulder while we walked. She wasn’t drunk but those two glasses of red had made her much more affectionate. “This is weird. You’re actually here, not just in my phone.”

“Is weird bad?”

“I dunno, I just never thought you actually would be.” She traced her fingers along my palm as we walked. “Five years is a lot of build up.”

We stopped at the edge of a secluded side street and she turned to face me. I was taller than her, even in the heels. Those big storm cloud eyes looking up at me, lightning ready to strike.

“Well did I live up to your expectations?” I asked.

“They weren’t very high to begin with.”

“That’s not a no.”

She jabbed me in the chest with a single manicured index finger. “It’s not a yes either.” She paused. “Quit joking though, what’s going on here? What do you want?”

The candor surprised me. It wasn’t often she was so forward and that usually meant I was in trouble, but she looked scared.

“I want you.”

Her expression didn’t change. “You just want to take me to bed.”

“No! well yes, but that’s not all I want, I want this.” Wrapping my arms around her waist I lifted her until we were face to face.

She kicked her legs in mild protest. “What if I’m not worth the wait?”

“Five years or forever, you’re worth the wai—” Before I could finish, she kissed me and neither of us seemed to be the one who wanted to stop first. Our bodies pressed together in the street, uncaring of the world around us. She was worth the wait.

“Take me home, James, before you say something stupid and ruin it.”