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At least Fi
She pulled out her phone and reread the last few Facebook messages she had from him. Occasionally he headed into town to local restaurants, and she had learned that he was not a fan of the local specialty. “Goat cheese” and “goat and cheese” are not the same thing.Learn from my mistakes.Always read the menus carefully, Julie. The next one said, Goat meat this, goat meat that. Barf. Screw the turtles! Based on such high consumption rates, it seems that we’ll need to establish a Goat Conservation Group soon.
Julie sca
It was almost midnight where Fi
So next New Year’s might bring a long, sensuous midnight kiss. Sometimes when they were talking online, she got this strange vibe. Like she could actually sense him, that she knew what it was like to be with him in person.
Julie stopped herself from going down that road. It was ridiculous. For all she knew, Fi
But she didn’t think so.
Neither did Fi
Almost midnight here. Missing you. Did you get my present yet? I’ve been waiting for you to find it, but evidently you do not look in the zipped pocket inside your purse very often. Or you hated it. Or Matt screwed up and tucked it in our mother’s purse. How repulsively Oedipal. (Uh-oh. Hope Dad is OK…)
Julie nearly dropped her phone as she yanked her purse from the back of the chair. Quickly she fumbled through the messy bag, vowing to clean out all the junk as soon as she got home. A piece of red tissue paper poked out from the pocket. Julie gently took the present in her hand and opened it.
It was beautiful. She lifted the thin cord in her hand and admired the purple stone tied at the end. It was jagged and uneven, but not sharp. She immediately pulled the necklace over her head and held the stone in one hand, while she wrote Fi
I don’t know what to say. It’s gorgeous. Perfect. I absolutely love it, and I won’t take it off. I wanted to get you something, but you keep moving around!
Julie stared at the screen, waiting for his reply. She couldn’t help getting chills every time a new message popped up.
You’ve already given me enough. Hey, check out the fireworks! It’s midnight here!
He must be using a borrowed phone with a camera, because he’d attached an awesome picture of the Cape Verde New Year’s celebration. She opened the picture Fi
She caught sight of a tall man who stood behind a couple at the hostess stand. Finally!
Gorgeous! Have to run. I think my dad is here. About to have five-course di
Fi
Yup, fireworks are indeed gorgeous, although I can think of other things I’d rather be doing at midnight. And they don’t involve goats. I’ll be here.
Julie tossed her phone into her purse and then stretched her arm up, squinting as she waved. Oh. That wasn’t her father.
The server appeared, refilled her water glass for what felt like the millionth time,and gave her a sympathetic look.
“I’m sure that traffic is a nightmare. He’ll be here soon,” Julie said, as much to herself as to the server.
But he wasn’t there soon. An hour after their reservation time, Julie called him. She never called her father. Never. There was an unspoken rule that his phone was for business only. Besides, he wasn’t the type that liked to get all chatty on the phone anyway. Their conversations were always stilted and slightly uncomfortable, filled with lots of background noise from wherever he was. Julie would blather on for a while with her father saying, “Yes,” or “Interesting,” when appropriate. From what she remembered, talking in person was better.
But now she had to try his cell. She let it ring until his voice mail picked up and then tried him right back. Still voice mail. Julie stared at the two untouched glasses of champagne on the table, their bubbles still rising festively. Not every table had the tall cooler keeping the bottle cold, and her father had obviously called ahead and arranged for this pre-midnight champagne. She took a few deep breaths and tried to relax.
Twenty minutes later, she checked the time again. He was now officially hideously late. Julie picked up the glass of now-warm champagne and drank half of it. She scrolled through her contact list and found her father’s secretary’s number. Julie was not a drinker, and so by the time Andrea answered, she could already feel the alcohol in her system.
“Hi. It’s Julie Seagle here. Sorry to bother you,” she said.
“Julie! How are you? Happy New Year!”
“I’m fine. It’s just that I’m at di
“Oh, Julie.” Andrea was quiet for a moment. “Honey, didn’t he let you know?”
“Let me know what?”
“He’s not in Boston.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“He’s in New York. He was supposed to call you. Don’t tell me that he forgot.”
Julie picked up the glass of champagne and finished it off. “He most definitely forgot. You know what? It’s more than just forgetting, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know what… I’m sure he meant to—”
“No. No, he didn’t. We both know that he just doesn’t give a shit. And that’s that. So now I’m sitting here at this stupid, pretentious, overpriced restaurant, and I’m hungry and pissed off and have no way to pay for this bottle of champagne that I plan to finish drinking.”
“I’ll call the restaurant and have that taken care of. I made the reservation, so I know where you are.”
Julie remained expressionless as she held the phone between her ear and her shoulder and refilled her glass. “Thanks, Andrea. Have a good night.” She went to hang up and then stopped. “And tell my father he’s an asshole. Tell him I’m done.” She dropped the phone onto the table. “And there you have it, folks,” she said softly.