Page 28 of The Artist's Rival
“I’m so sorry, really, I drove through some horrible traffic,” Tatiana recites in one breath, “But I’m here, I’m here. I’m really sorry.”
Ellie shakes her head. “How is it that you always find a way to be late?” She smiles with forgiveness.
The waiter arrives, seeing that the pair is ready, and gives them the menu cards. Their beige paper discloses everything succinctly. Neither of them being particularly passionate about wine, they choose a recommended white, and take their time to consider the dishes. Ellie feels good being able to practice her calming ritual, a smaller choice made with certainty, leading the bigger choice to seem less overwhelming.
“Alright, I’m considering the asparagus puff pastry,” Ellie’s eyes jump around the embellished letters, “or the lobster tagliolini.”
Tatiana raises her eyebrows, always surprised how much attention Ellie pays these choices.
“I’ll take the veal chop,” she announces, putting the card to the side.
Ellie looks up from hers, disapprovingly.
“That’s awful,” she shakes her head.
“What?” Tatiana looks surprised. “What, the meat? The calf?”
Ellie nods.
“Oh, come on, we’ve talked about this a million times. What about the lobster then?” She laughs, entertained by the sensitive subject.
“I’ll take the asparagus then,” Ellie says, more as a joke than an actual point.
When the waiter takes their orders, Ellie quiets down. She knows now is the time to begin the conversation. The people around them seem entirely involved in their own problems, loves, or others. Ellie and Tatiana begin looking around, both postponing something.
“Look,” Tatiana discreetly points to another couple, “they’re about to break up.”
The woman is indeed tearing up slightly, having abandoned her Caesar salad completely. The man’s head rests in his hands.
“Stop it, give them some privacy,” Ellie admonishes her.
“This is a public space, though,” Tatiana responds. Then silence follows anew.
Ellie shifts on her seat, knowing that she could easily allow Tatiana to simply carry their conversation away somewhere, far from themselves. Tonight, this can’t happen, she reminds herself.
“I would like to actually talk to you about something important, and for you to stay on the subject,” she begins.
“You sound very condescending,” Tatiana informs her, partially correct.
“You’re right,” Ellie doubles down. “I’m sorry. I do really need to talk, though. Is that okay?”
Tatiana nods.
“I would like…” Ellie clears her throat, “I would like for us to clarify our relationship.”
“What does that mean?” Tatiana interrupts. “We do what feels good and stop doing it when it doesn’t. That’s all I need to know,” she concludes, taking a sip of her wine. Her cheeks begin to slowly blush—from wine, candle-warmth, and agitation. Ellie always thought it very endearing, how easily Tatiana can blush.
“Well, I’m glad you’re so self-assured,” she responds, carefully, “but that’s not enough for me. I feel like we’re escaping an important conversation. About our feelings.”
Their food arrives, steamy and mouth-watering. Ellie can feel her stomach rumble, having eaten only a light breakfast. She’s annoyed at the timing but cannot help diving straight into the pastry. Tatiana seems equally hungry, cutting the veal. The conversation endures a break, filled by cutlery and chewing sounds. Ellie from time to time looks up from her plate to Tatiana, feeling more confident already in the middle of the conversation.
They take a break from eating, swirling the surprisingly well-fitted wine around their mouths, heated by the conversation.
“So. What are these feelings?” Tatiana finally lets out, having been holding the question down while eating. The chair suddenly seems much less comfortable.
“Well. That’s a question.”
They look back down at their plates, at a bit of a loss for words. Ellie decides to be brave and not let herself be intimidated by the situation.