Knowing You're There

Chapter 26

When we got to our seats, Kurt pulled my chair out for me.  I handed him my coat and he placed it on the back of it, then pushed me in and sat down, holding my hand from across the table.  The heat from the candle warmed the side of my arm. 

“I never thought you’d be wearing a dress shirt,” I said. 

He chuckled.  “How did you know that?” 

“I felt the material when you leaned in to kiss me.”  I smiled and squeezed his hand.  He squeezed back. 

“Well, you know, nothing but the best for my special lady,” he said.  “So, how are you feeling?” 

I let go of his hand.  “The same numbness I’ve been feeling since I talked to you at the coffee shop.  I don’t get it.  I feel like a terrible person for not being sad about Star.  When I realized that she was going to die, I thought when she actually was gone I’d be crying every second of every day.” 

“But you’re not.” 

“Exactly.” 

“Do you know what I think?” he said.  “I think you just need to let yourself feel what you’re feeling and stop questioning it.  Everyone grieves differently, sweetie.” 

I opened my mouth to answer, but we were interrupted by the server.  Kurt and I ordered some water and a plate of the garlic knots as an appetizer.  When the server left, I picked up the menu in front of me. 

“Do you see fettuccini alfredo anywhere on here?” I asked Kurt. 

“I’ll check.  I definitely don’t think it’s in the pasta section,” he said. 

“Well duh, everyone knows that it’s part of the desserts,” I said.  “So what does your family have planned for New Years?” 

“I think they’re closing down the shop early and we’re going to chill at home.” He flipped a page.  “I mean, I totally don’t have any plans to take you to Light Night downtown.” 

I wanted to start bouncing up and down.  Although I hadn’t been to Light Night since I was in elementary school, it was one of my favorite childhood memories.  Light Night was where a bunch of people froze on First Street in the downtown area, ate funnel cakes, and watched fireworks to ring in the New Year. 

“Well, I guess I won’t have to text my parents and tell them that I’ll be going to Light Night then,” I said. 

I heard him lean back in the seat.  “Remember how I asked for your home number the other day?” 

I leaned back, ready to fall out of my seat.  “Did you really plan this out ahead of time?” 

“I might’ve,” he said. 

The rest of the dinner was quiet, mainly because I was too busy shoving a ton of garlic knots and a whole plate of sauce-covered fettuccini into my mouth.  The fact that I was starving wasn’t the only reason for the rush—I was desperate to get over to Light Night before all the street carts ran out of funnel cakes.  Kurt didn’t pick up, slowly cutting and chewing on his veal cutlet.