He must have seen something in my expression, because he pauses, cocking an eyebrow, as a dry smile curves his lips. He drops his hand and smiles wryly. “Shall we?” He says, gesturing towards the doors.
I follow him, silently wondering how I’m going to fit in an elegant restaurant with my jeans and ‘Welcome to Empathy Zone t-shirt’. David however, doesn’t seem to care. Once inside, the manager leads us through the main dining area to a curved stairway that leads to a private dining area upstairs. There’s only one table for two, and a set of wide windows that look out to a small park. It’s cozy and intimate, a room for a couple in love and eager for a romantic dinner alone. It’s definitely not the sort of place where I should be alone with David.
The manager pulls out my chair, and I sit, listening with half an ear as he and David discuss wine. After he leaves, David turns his full attention to me.
“I hope you don’t mind my picking this place,” he says, looking at me intently. “I know it’s a little… intimate, but I thought we should have some privacy.”
I shrug, schooling my face into a false expression of nonchalance. “I can’t imagine why.”
He lifts an eyebrow, then smiles patiently and leans back in his chair. “Because, as I said, we need to talk, and I’d rather not do that in a roomful of people.”
“You must have been confident that I would agree to come with you,” I observe, “reserving this place beforehand.”
“I wouldn’t say anything about confidence” He chuckles. “But I certainly hoped you would come.”
I swallow and keep silent as I pick up a menu from the table, gazing halfheartedly at the options available. From under my lashes, I can see David doing the same. Finally, he presses a button on the table, and immediately a door opens and a waiter comes in to take our order.
We’re both silent. The wine arrives, but I only take a sip of the mellow liquid, intent on keeping my senses about me while I’m in the same room with David. He looks relaxed, as if he has no care in the world. I’m far from relaxed, being so close to him is making me nervous.
“You said you wanted to talk.” I say finally, breaking the silence.
“Yes.” He nods. “But that can wait.” He smiles at me, but I’m not deceived by the appearance of friendliness. He is dangerous to me, and I should be on my guard. “Tell me about you,” he urges good-naturedly. “What you’ve been doing… work and all.”
“You already know everything that’s been going on in my life.” I say, “You knew where I worked without asking me, you know where I live, and I’ll bet you know everything I’ve done in the past two months.”
He shrugs carelessly, and I know I’m right.
I sigh. “I really don’t want the money David.”
“We’ll talk about that.” He says firmly. There’s a small hesitation before he speaks again. “There’ll have to be at least some sort of settlement you’re comfortable with.”
Settlement. That word again.
I study his face, trying to read his expression, but as usual, there’s nothing there. A knot of dread forms in my stomach. He wants to talk about a settlement, a permanent arrangement that will signify the reality of our separation and the beginning of a divorce.
I should welcome it, I think. The money aside, I should welcome a divorce, a chance to start again, but the idea fills me with anguish. I won’t be able to bear it.
Get a hold of yourself Sophie, I tell myself as I take another sip of my wine. A divorce will hurt. It will break my heart all over again, but pain does not kill, and it won’t kill me.
Pain does not kill.
Our food arrives, but I can hardly eat. My stomach is in knots as I wait for David to say something. Finally, he summons a waiter to clear the dishes and then it’s just both of us again.
I close my eyes, waiting.
“Sophie.” He starts, saying my name softly, almost as if he’s not actually calling me, but saying it just to feel it on his lips, like a prayer. I force myself to look up at him.
“You said something about a settlement,” I say, the words thick in my throat. “If you want a divorce, just give me the papers.” I force my voice to be steady. “I’ll sign them.”
He looks taken aback, almost shaken, as his brow creases in a frown. For a long moment, he is silent. I realize that I’m gripping the edge of the table.
When he speaks, there’s an edge to his voice. “Is that what you want?” He mutters, “A divorce?”
I should say yes. How can I let go of the past if I don’t break the only thing still holding me captive to it? Yet I know that being married to David is not the only thing holding me captive to the past. A thousand divorces won’t change the way I feel about him.
I look away from him, avoiding his question and the intensity of his gaze. I don’t want to see the desire in his eyes. I don’t want to hope, when hope will only lead to pain. “Isn’t that what you want?” I whisper.
I feel, rather than see him lean forward. “No.” He says intently. I look up at him, and the earnest expression on his face almost kills me. “I don’t want a divorce, Sophie. I want you.”