A Sip in the Spotlight

I sit alone, fidgeting uncontrollably as I wait. The restaurant, Bernadino’s, is packed full. The din from the surrounding patrons laughing, gossiping, and sharing details of their day…is deafening. Despite that, I can’t shake the feeling that everyone is staring at me.

How long until they start flashing me sympathetic looks and talk about how pitiful I am, I wondered. Just then my waiter passes by, a tray piled high with delicious looking dishes and sends a warm smile and a wink my way. It helps.

Taking a deep breath and shaking my head subtly, I examine the menu again. While I do my best to keep my thoughts on whether the chicken or the mahi mahi sounds better, they rebel and drift back to why I’m here in the first place.

A few days ago my BFF, Gilly, sent me a text with a link that said “I dare you”. Since we were kids in the same neighborhood, truth or dare has been our favorite game. Today, as adults, we still use it to get the truth out of each other, or force one another to go outside of our comfort zone. It’s never anything dangerous or illegal or anything. In a lot of ways it has bonded us and made us more adventurous. Usually she jumps at the chance to try a dare, I have a harder time.

This one in particular was (and IS) a struggle. The link was to a website for a company called “In the Dark” – a blind date matching service. I have only had one long term relationship and that was back in high school. By the time I was a sophomore in college, he was sleeping with half the dorm. Since then I’ve had a slow string of short term flops. Gilly said I’m attracted to jerks and too worried that one of them is going to wrong me to really give them a chance. She might be right.

In the Dark does their best to give you as much info while hiding everything possible. Each member has reviews for the people they’ve helped before, has detailed info about lifestyle, performs background checks, blurs out photos, hides names, etc. I was intrigued, and when bachelor #3 sent me a private request, I gathered my courage (with Gilly egging me on over the phone) and accepted his invitation.

Now here I am, armed only with the knowledge that this person loves dogs, Italian food, race cars and travel. I am his blind date for the evening. The very thought makes my heart start to race and turns my hands clammy again. Waving down the waiter, I let him know I’m running to freshen up and to please let my guest know I will be back shortly.

In the beautiful marbled restroom, I splash water on my face, take some deep breaths and give my reflection a pep talk. Jessica, you’ve got this. Keep an open mind and chill out already!! I take in my heart-shaped face, pinched nose, large green eyes and wavy brown hair. My fanciest dress – a knee length, striped, one shoulder affair, falls perfectly on my athletic figure. Nodding at myself, pleased enough with my appearance, I dry my face, reapply my mascara and gloss and head back out there.

As I approach my table my heart skips a beat. At my seat, a single glass of Merlot is waiting. I glance around wildly to make sure I haven’t gone to the wrong spot. I find there is no one standing around as if they placed the glass and wandered off to find friends. I am in the correct place.

Sinking into my seat slowly, my eyes dart around the large room once more, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. I swallow hard and pick up the glass, swirling it and taking in the scent. Berries, spices and violet. A good blend. Trying not to overthink things, I take a sip. It’s delicious. Whoever ordered it knows their wine. I look for my waiter to ask if he saw who left it, but I don’t see him anywhere. I do, however, see a woman staring at me from across the aisle. She glances away quickly, immediately joining a conversation with her partner. But the way she had been staring at me…it gave me goosebumps; like she was waiting for something. I suddenly realize I just took a drink of something I didn’t order – and don’t know who did. What if it was spiked? I start panicking, pushing away the glass and now frantically searching for the waiter who had still not reappeared.

Now a young man behind me is staring at me expectantly. He too, resumes normal behavior when I make eye contact. My eyes shift and find yet another woman across the restaurant – this time actually turned around in her seat to look at me. It is as if my earlier fear about being in the spotlight alone was coming true.

Panicking further, I try to remain poised as I rush over to the maître de.

“Hi, I’m trying to find my waiter,” I say breathlessly. He nods.

“Where are you seated, Miss?” I point it out. He looks over his notes for a moment. “Ah, that’s Jasmine’s section. She’s the blonde serving that table right there,” he points. I shake my head, mouth turning dry.

“N…No. I had a male waiter. Dark hair, styled. He was tall, blue eyes and some stubble…” I trail off. The Maître de looks at me like I’m crazy.

“We only have one male wait staff on tonight – Derek. He’s over by the kitchen.” I glance over my shoulder. The man waiting there is barely my height, shaggy blonde hair covering his head. My heart starts pounding.

“Could there have been some substitute that covered for one of the girls or something?” I ask. He looks over his list once again, shaking his head.

“No, Miss, they are all accounted for. Five waitresses and one waiter on tonight,” he eyes me, concerned. “Are you feeling alright? Would you like me to call someone?” he asks. I shake my head.

“No…I’m fine. I must just be confusing him with someone else.” I turn and walk slowly back to my table, my mind racing. I keep replaying the scene of him turning to smile and wink at me as he brought out someone’s food…how could I have mistaken that?

Once back at my table I realize I do not want to sit. Instead, I feel an instinctual urge to flee. I gather up my jacket and bag, turning to go and freeze, my blood turning cold.

I wasn’t imagining it. People were staring, and they aren’t making any further attempt to hide it. Nearly a third of the patrons sitting scattered throughout the establishment have their eyes on me, expectantly. The rest of their parties continue on talking and laughing as if this is natural. I force my legs to move as I make my way to the doors as quickly as possible. The maître de stares at me as I pass as well, though he genuinely looks at me as if I’m in the middle of having a nervous breakdown...which I might be.

Bursting into the cool night I take a few deep, gulping breaths. Steadying myself, I turn and begin walking down the sidewalk. I glance through the restaurant’s front window to find everyone who had been watching at me exit the restaurant now standing, eyes fixed on me again as I pass. This sends me into a full blown panic. I race, as fast as my simple black heels will carry me, to my apartment building two blocks down. I don’t look back until I’m waiting for the elevator, heart racing, pushing the button incessantly. Finally the doors open and I dart in, pressing the button for my floor, my wide eyes fixed on the door. No one comes as the door slides shut. It doesn’t stop me from sprinting from the elevator to my front door, however. I unlock it, slide inside and lock the handle, deadbolt and chain lock as fast as my shaking hands will allow.

Finally, I slump against the door in relief, attempting to take steadying breaths as I remove my shoes. I drop my bag on the floor, take out my phone and dial Gilly’s number as I turn the corner into my living room.

“Hello?” Gilly answers on the second ring. Just hearing her voice makes me feel more at ease. I open my mouth to answer and freeze. There, on the corner of my coffee table is an identical glass of Merlot.

“Hello? Are you there?” Gilly asks again. I try to answer her but I can’t move, can’t think.

I glance up at my window – there, in the reflection, I see the waiter from Bernadino’s. The one who doesn’t exist, standing behind me.

“Hello, Jessica. Nice to meet you.”