Page 132
Story: Tell Me What You Want
Date: September 19, 2012, 10:05 p.m.
To: Eric Zimmerman
Subject: I have only one more thing to say.
DICKHEAD!
Jude
49
Today, September 21, is his birthday. Eric is thirty-two, and inexplicably, I’m happy for him. That’s how much of an idiot I am.
He hasn’t been by the office again. After his tour of the branch offices, he flew directly to Germany and has yet to step on Spanish soil again.
I’m in my own little bubble when the office line rings. My dear supervisor asks me to come to her office. Then she piles on the work.
“Also, make a reservation for nine thirty tonight at Moroccio, for ten, in Mr.Zimmerman’s name. It has to be in his name, or they won’t take the reservation, all right?” she says. “Then get me a hair appointment in an hour.”
I nod and try not to react.
Eric’s in Spain? In Madrid?
As I step out of her office, my heart is pounding.
I look up Moroccio’s number on the Internet. Finding it, I let out a long breath and make the call.
“Moroccio, good morning.”
“Hello, good morning. I’m calling to make a reservation for tonight.”
“In whose name, please?”
“It would be for nine thirty, for ten people, for Mr.Eric Zimmerman.”
“Oh yes, for Mr.Zimmerman,” the waiter echoes. “Is there anything else?”
My heart feels like it could launch right out of my chest. But suddenly, a light bulb goes off. It’s a crazy idea, but I don’t pause to consider the consequences.
“I’d also like a second reservation, for two, at eight o’clock, for Mrs.Zimmerman.”
“Mr.Zimmerman’s wife?” asks the waiter.
“Precisely. His wife. But please, don’t mention it. It’s a surprise for his birthday.”
“Of course.”
I hang up and cover my mouth. Without a second thought, I pick up the phone again and call Nacho. Tonight I’m the one who’ll take him to dinner.
Dressed in a beautiful strapless black dress I borrowed from my sister and with my hair in an Audrey Hepburn bun, I pick up Nacho at his studio.
“Wow, you look fabulous!”
“Thank you. You do too.”
Nacho grins and opens his arms to show me what he’s got on.
“I just want to be clear that this is my brother’s wedding suit, and I’m only wearing it because you asked, because, as you well know, this is not my thing.”
To: Eric Zimmerman
Subject: I have only one more thing to say.
DICKHEAD!
Jude
49
Today, September 21, is his birthday. Eric is thirty-two, and inexplicably, I’m happy for him. That’s how much of an idiot I am.
He hasn’t been by the office again. After his tour of the branch offices, he flew directly to Germany and has yet to step on Spanish soil again.
I’m in my own little bubble when the office line rings. My dear supervisor asks me to come to her office. Then she piles on the work.
“Also, make a reservation for nine thirty tonight at Moroccio, for ten, in Mr.Zimmerman’s name. It has to be in his name, or they won’t take the reservation, all right?” she says. “Then get me a hair appointment in an hour.”
I nod and try not to react.
Eric’s in Spain? In Madrid?
As I step out of her office, my heart is pounding.
I look up Moroccio’s number on the Internet. Finding it, I let out a long breath and make the call.
“Moroccio, good morning.”
“Hello, good morning. I’m calling to make a reservation for tonight.”
“In whose name, please?”
“It would be for nine thirty, for ten people, for Mr.Eric Zimmerman.”
“Oh yes, for Mr.Zimmerman,” the waiter echoes. “Is there anything else?”
My heart feels like it could launch right out of my chest. But suddenly, a light bulb goes off. It’s a crazy idea, but I don’t pause to consider the consequences.
“I’d also like a second reservation, for two, at eight o’clock, for Mrs.Zimmerman.”
“Mr.Zimmerman’s wife?” asks the waiter.
“Precisely. His wife. But please, don’t mention it. It’s a surprise for his birthday.”
“Of course.”
I hang up and cover my mouth. Without a second thought, I pick up the phone again and call Nacho. Tonight I’m the one who’ll take him to dinner.
Dressed in a beautiful strapless black dress I borrowed from my sister and with my hair in an Audrey Hepburn bun, I pick up Nacho at his studio.
“Wow, you look fabulous!”
“Thank you. You do too.”
Nacho grins and opens his arms to show me what he’s got on.
“I just want to be clear that this is my brother’s wedding suit, and I’m only wearing it because you asked, because, as you well know, this is not my thing.”
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