Dinner and a Glass of Deceit

One drink too many at a Christmas party led to the worst date, and night, of Chelsea’s life.

Maura, her new boss, and her coworker Sonia were lingering at her house after an evening of tedious mingling. Hosting the office Christmas party was a pain, but it was just one small sacrifice to make in exchange for getting on the good side of her office mates, Chelsea reminded herself. She sipped on a glass of wine as she struggled to remain awake. Stay focused, she thought as she willed herself to engage. A bad impression today could leave a lasting legacy in the worst way possible.

The conversation lulled and her boss let out a sigh. It was the point in the evening when enough alcohol had been consumed that no topic was off limits, and Maura ventured into the opportunity to overshare. “My son Ryan is pushing thirty and has never had a girlfriend.” Her eyes darted between Chelsea and Sonia. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and continued, “I’m worried about him. He’s a nice guy but he’s just a bit awkward. I wish I could help him find someone, but maybe that would be overbearing.”

As Maura’s words slowly started to sort themselves out in Chelsea’s head, an idea began to morph from fantasy into drunken reality until she blurted out, “I have a solution!”

Maura and Sonia exchanged puzzled looks, but turned expectantly toward Chelsea. “My daughter Remi is about to graduate from college and she’s home for the holidays, and she’s single! At least, I think she is!”

Maura leaned in with wide eyes. “Really? Do you think she’d be willing to meet Ryan, maybe for coffee?”

“Of course!” Chelsea replied. “Either that or... a real date. Like at a fancy restaurant?”

“I do have a gift card to that nice place on the square,” Maura mused.

“That would be PERFECT! Oh, Remi will be so excited!” Chelsea squealed.

“Let’s hope so,” Maura laughed.

This is my lucky break, Chelsea thought. What could be a grander entrance to her new workplace than solving her boss’s most pressing personal issue, and perhaps finding her daughter true love in the process? She was Maura’s savior. Chelsea couldn’t help but grin as she swayed in her seat.

Then Chelsea’s second great idea hit her. “Oh my god, I know exactly how I’m going to set them up!” she slurred.

Maura leaned even closer in anticipation.

“Does Ryan have any dating apps on his phone?”

“I think so? He hasn’t had much luck with them, though.”

“Tell him to check his app tomorrow. I’ll work my magic.” Chelsea attempted to wink, but both eyes fluttered closed. Her plan was coming together beautifully.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Sonia asked Chelsea with sarcastic concern.

“Oh, I’m sure. It will be so romantic this way... a literal modern fairy tale.”

Sonia winced and pursed her lips in an attempt not to laugh. Maura leaned back in her chair.

“I can get to work like… right now!” Chelsea leapt up from her seat, almost tipping over in the process.

Chelsea lumbered down the hall as she approached Remi’s door. She twisted the doorknob as delicately as her fingers would allow and peered inside. Remi’s phone sat on the bedside table, barely visible in the moonlight coming through the curtains. Chelsea shuffled through the darkness and grabbed the phone, ripping the charger out of the wall with it, and made her way back.

Chelsea paraded into the kitchen with her prize. Sonia slapped her hand over her mouth and began to intently study the empty wine bottles on the kitchen counter, her shoulders bouncing up and down as she suppressed her laughter.

“Okay, so it’s this one,” Chelsea said as she shoved the phone into her boss’s face and confidently tapped the yellow icon. “You have to swipe left… or is it right?”

“Right,” Sonia mumbled from behind her hand.

“You have to swipe right until we find… Ricky?”

“Ryan,” Maura corrected.

“Oh, okay, yeah. You know, let me work on this. I wouldn’t want to keep you ladies here all night.” Maura and Sonia agreed, said their goodbyes and left.

The next morning Chelsea knew all hell would break loose when Remi entered the kitchen. She buried her face in her hands and her heart began to pound. She felt sick to her stomach, partly from the nerves but mostly from her terrible hangover.

Without saying a word to her mother, Remi trudged into the room and let out a sigh of relief when she saw her phone on the counter. In her drunken state, Chelsea hadn’t remembered to return it. Remi squinted at the screen and a look of horror spread across her face.

Better get it over with now than later, Chelsea convinced herself.

“Remi, I’m so sorry. I had a little too much to drink last night and agreed to help my boss find her son a date. I volunteered you and found him on your phone, and I—”

“Jesus Christ, Mom! What is wrong with you? You know I would never agree to a blind date! And you swiped right on every guy on my app until you found him?!” Remi fumed.

“Remi, look, I was drunk and was trying to help. I’m just asking that you meet up with him, just this once. There’s no harm in it! Just tell him you had fun but aren’t interested in a second date.”

“Are you kidding me?” Remi snarled. “You couldn’t pay me to meet up with this rando. I’m not going. End of conversation!”

“Well, what am I going to do now?” Chelsea snapped.

Remi glared at her mother. “Why don’t you go yourself, Mom? You’re only what, thirty years older than him? And you haven’t been out since you broke up with Dad… maybe it’s time you have some fun with your own life.”

Remi stormed out of the kitchen. The slam of her door rattled the walls and the silence that followed was deafening. Chelsea tapped her manicured nails on the table.

She slid her phone over and began typing. “Maura, can I have Ryan’s number? Remi really seemed to hit it off with him, but her app just crashed and she can’t reach him. Such bad timing, LOL!” Surely if her boss and Ryan were so inept with dating apps, they wouldn’t know that texting his number directly was impossible, right? she thought.

Her phone lit up almost instantly. “Gladly!”

Chelsea opened up a new text and entered the number. She stared at the empty conversation before mustering the courage to type. “Hey Ryan, it’s Remi! I swiped right on you last night and would love to meet up.”

“My mom told me about you! She said we should meet. Dinner tonight at seven, at Bistro 11?”

“That sounds perfect!”

Chelsea couldn’t believe she was agreeing, but failing on this favor for her boss would undoubtedly tarnish her image. As long as she kept this one-off date strictly cordial, Maura would never know.

At ten past seven, Chelsea parallel-parked in front of the restaurant situated in a quaint old house. She took in a deep breath as she tried to calm her nerves. “It’s just dinner, I’ll tell him I had fun but don’t want anything more, and then it’ll be over,” Chelsea coached herself. She exhaled and climbed out of the car.

Edison bulbs draped above a wrap-around porch swung back and forth in the frosty air as Chelsea made her way up the wooden stairs, her heels pounding loudly with each step. Her dramatic arrival attracted the attention of a gangly young man leaning against the railing.

“Are you Remi?” the man asked.

“Yes… well, um,” Chelsea stuttered.

He stared blankly. “You look way older than your profile picture. Sorry, not in a bad way. Uh, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

They went inside and were seated. Chelsea’s ruby red lipstick glinted in the light of gaudy chandeliers as they sat in uncomfortable silence. A waiter approached their table.

“What will we have to drink tonight?”

“A glass of merlot, please.”

“Water for me, thanks.”

Dinner ensued with much fake laughter, and Chelsea’s hangover headache made it even more difficult to engage with the dull conversation. Ryan had to be prodded to speak, and when he did, his responses were terse, though he did seem to perk up when sharing his peculiar fascination with Victorian steam engines. Never once did he question her about her age or profession, to Chelsea’s relief.

“I know this is going to sound weird, but I need to tell you something,” Ryan said suddenly after their plates were cleared.

“Oh, no Ryan, I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea, but I’m not interested in a second date,” Chelsea blurted out her rehearsed line without hesitation.

“Um, I actually wasn’t talking about our future.” Ryan laughed uncomfortably and ran his fingers through his greasy hair. “I just wanted to let you know that my mom is, uh, going to be here soon. I just texted her that I didn’t have enough to pay for dinner because that merlot you ordered kinda went over the gift card budget, and I need her to pick me up too since I don’t have a car,” he nervously chattered.

“What?!” The edge in Chelsea’s voice cut through the burble of conversation in the restaurant and a few diners turned their heads.

“Yeah, sorry,” Ryan nervously laughed. “It seriously blows, but I’ll just-,”

“Oh my god. Are you serious?” Chelsea cut him off. She hyperventilated as she gripped the edge of the tablecloth.

“Yeah, I know the whole situation kinda sucks, but I’m gonna make this right. My mom will be here in like two minutes.”

Chelsea froze. “Ryan, money is not the issue. Your mom is the issue. I really don’t want to meet your mom. I can pay.”

“But… but my mom is awesome,” he stammered.

“You don’t understand!” Chelsea’s fists hit the table and silverware rattled. “Your mom is my boss! I only went on this date as a favor!”

The restaurant chatter ceased as if someone had hit a mute button. Ryan’s eyes widened and his jaw began to sag. Chelsea’s face grew hot and her hands began to tremble. The moment seemed to last an eternity. “God almighty,” a lady at the next table whispered.

“I’m sorry.” Chelsea reached into her purse and retrieved her wallet. She fumbled through it and slapped a fifty on the table. All eyes bored into her, Ryan’s the most intensely, as she scooted out of her seat, the legs of the chair screeching across the floorboards like nails on a chalkboard.

Her date sat in shock as Chelsea flung on her coat and shoved the door open with her shoulder as she made her way outside. Her heels clicked across the concrete, tendrils of her breath floating behind her in the cold air. She reached her car and slammed the door shut, trapping herself inside a capsule of embarrassment and shame.

Shivering from the cold and from the events of the evening, Chelsea draped across the steering wheel and closed her eyes. This cannot be happening, she thought repeatedly. She let out an exasperated sigh and gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. “This cannot be happening!” she screamed.

A soft buzz rattled from inside her purse and the glow of her phone’s screen illuminated the roof of the car. Chelsea squeezed her eyes shut and sharply inhaled. She sat in silence until the phone persistently buzzed again, begging her to check it. Chelsea held her breath as she guided her hand inside her bag. She clutched the phone, screen down, in her palm for another minute before slowly flipping it over.

The screen excitedly lit up, nearly blinding her, but she could still make out the text.

“You’re fired!”