Pain (4 A.M., #83)

Henley scanned the menu, wondering if her date would be offended if she only ordered mashed potatoes.
This morning, he had sent chocolates to her office with a card that read: “A sweet start to your day. Looking forward to tonight, Gabe”
She cracked her tooth on an almond from the first piece she’d tried. Anyone else would have instinctively spit the candy out, but in a panic she’d swallowed it along with a chunk of bottom molar.
Alexa, the perky blonde she shared a cubicle with, was kind enough to call her dentist, but they couldn’t get Henley in until tomorrow morning. She knew she should cancel the date, but spending Valentine’s Day alone seemed more painful than sitting through dinner with a toothache.
So now here she was sharing a booth looking out over the Bay Bridge with a strikingly handsome, extremely interesting man, trying her best to concentrate on the conversation and the company.
“Would either of you care for a glass of wine?” the waiter came by to ask.
Henley could go for a whole bottle, as the two Vicodin she’d popped before leaving the house were already beginning to wear off.
“No, water peas,” she said, avoiding looking over at her date.
“Are you sure?” Gabe said.
“Yes, I’m ine.” The first lie of what she knew would be a long evening.
“I guess water for me then as well.” And now he avoided looking at the waiter, which embarrassed Henley since she was about to make them look even cheaper by only ordering soup.
“No ice peas,” Henley added quickly as the waiter turned to leave. “Tap, neat” she thought she heard him mumble.
“So, how was your day?”
“Ine, hank oo,” she said, keeping the number of words in her response to a minimum. She had to keep her tongue on the right side of her mouth, far away from the hole in her left molar.
Gabe only stared at her, until finally she realized he was waiting for her to ask about his day—and probably for a thank you for the chocolates.
“Ow us ors?”
Gabe just continued to stare.
Maybe she should have ordered wine.
The waiter returned with their waters and asked if they were ready to order.
“Ladies first,” Gabe said.
“Up of oup, peas.”
“Cup of soup to start,” said the waiter. “And for the main course?”
“Um, no, us the oup.”
Now both Gabe and the waiter were starting at her.
“Peas?” she said.
The throbbing was back in full force. She reached for her water and managed a small sip before a steady stream ran down her chin and onto the crotch of her red Calvin Klein dress.
“And for you sir?” the waiter said, still staring at Henley.
“I think we’ll need another minute,” Gabe said.
When the waiter left, Gabe excused himself, saying he needed to use the restroom.
Ten minutes passed before Henley realized he wasn’t coming back.