Escaping the Void

Chapter Two

"Yeah, you were right. I should listen to you more often. You know what's best for me. Maybe after I save up enough money, I can make a better life for us. A better life for you." He places his hand on top of mine and squeezes it lightly. He must have forgotten that death glare he gave me a few moments ago. I don't understand Trevor. Everything about him is just a huge, baffling blur. One moment, he seems to want to bash my face in. The next, he's expressing his unwavering love for me. Odd. 

Lennon returns shortly with two glasses of water and the same smile he was sporting earlier. He sets them down in front of us and says, "Have you decided what you're going to eat?"

Trevor looks through the table d'hôte for a while. Then he looks up at our waiter and says, "Yes, I'd like the cedar grilled lemon chicken."

"Okay, and for you, ma'am?"

"Um, I can I have---"

"She'll have a oriental chicken salad," Trevor finishes for me. I turn to look at him, irritated. He doesn't seem to detect the vexation as he looks into my eyes, his own daring. "I think you'll like it. Your figure will, too."

My heart overflows with rage as I channel all of my anger into fists under the table. I can't believe he would insult me and make a sly comment about my weight right in front of the waiter. Why does it seem like it's his life's duty to deprive me of my self-esteem? And he thinks it's funny. He thinks that it's---

"Ma'am?" the waiter interrupts me thoughts.

"Uh...yeah. I'll have the oriental chicken salad." I was going to get the three cheese chicken cavatappi. But I guess salad will be just fine.

Lennon is no longer smiling. He looks at me with concern. I smile weakly at him. "You look great to me, ma'am," he says. 

My body freezes and my eyes blur, my vision being distorted. This is not good, I think. This is not good, this is not good, this is not good...

I eye the pure white tablecloth as Trevor chimes in. "What did you just say?" he asks him.

"Well, I just thought that I'd let her know that she looks good since you practically just called her fat," he says gesturing towards me. Trevor stands up, drawing attention to our table. 

"Look, I'll call my girlfriend whatever I want to. You just do your damn job."

Lennon looks down at me as if he's awaiting orders from me. "It's okay," I tell him. He backs away from Trevor.

"I'll go put your orders in, and they'll be out shortly. I'll also get you a new waiter," the waiter says through his teeth. He brushes past Trevor to the kitchen. I suddenly feel the eyes of others settle on us. 

"Trevor, please sit back down. Others are staring," I beg him. He takes his seat again, his nostrils flaring. 

"Fucking twat," he mumbles to himself. I don't speak. Neither does he. There really isn't anything to say. I silently sip on my chilled water. The minutes roll by, then he says, "Did you get a rush outta that?"

"What?" I ask. 

"That bitch made me look bad, and you liked it, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't. I---"

"Shut up. I can't take you anywhere," he growls. I hold my head down letting what he just said process in my mind. I can't take you anywhere. As if all of this shit is my fucking fault. It's his. It's always his. He gets too mad, too jealous, too heated. And he just ends up blowing his goddamn fuse. Then, when everything is said and done, he needs a scapegoat to wash off his own guilt. And guess who that always is?