“That is actually...a very good idea,” I reply, excitement quickly taking me over.
For the past year, I’ve been letting a Montreal slam poetry group use Taverne Toulouse for their monthly events. We actually lose money on it since the slams are all ages and thus we don’t sell alcohol during the show, but the group has had such a hard time finding a venue that even in the midst of our financial woes, I haven’t considered retracting the offer.
“It will show him the value of community and a generous spirit,” Roxanne proclaims with a melodramatic flourish of her mug, “and of the arts.”
“Oh, he knows the values of the arts. You should see his Shakespeare collection.”
“Don’t tell me he’s as nerdy as you,” DeeDee teases. “Do you talk about like, Vikings and...Latin and stuff?”
“Yes, we recite theProse Eddato each other as foreplay,” I answer drily.
Then again, making Julien read Norse myths to me in that accent of his might not be such a bad idea.
“I’ll invite him,” I announce. “It will be good for him to see Taverne Toulouse as something other than an empty house or an uncontrollable frat party.”
“It’s usually somewhere on the scale between the two,” Roxanne reminds me.
“Yes, well, whatever,” is my cutting reply. “By the way, DeeDee, what did you get up to last night? Or rather, who?”
A huge smile splits her face. “You know that guy with the spider tattoo on his neck I’ve been telling you about?”
Roxanne and I share a covert grimace.
Here we go again.
Most people who meet her expect DeeDee’s love life to be as party central as her personality, but she rarely goes very long before jumping headfirst into a committed relationship. She falls in love with the same glittery enthusiasm that seems to exude from her every pore whenever she gets on a dance floor, but she’s yet to fall for anyone who’s even half-deserving of her sparkle.
“We’re going on a date tomorrow,” DeeDee continues. “He’s actually very sweet.”
I hope she’s right. I hope this relationship—because it will inevitably become a relationship—works out better than her last few. Still, I can’t help thinking of the ‘very sweet’ guy at my bar who I know for a fact would give absolutely anything to make her happy.
“I’m happy for you,” I tell her. “You’ve been after him for weeks now.”
Eventually, we get to discussing what we’re actually here for: Roxy’s wedding plans. The approaching nuptials won’t be happening for the better part of a year, so there’s still plenty of time to make final decisions. Besides fashion, Roxanne’s not into all that many stereotypically ‘girly’ things, so it’s an amusing change to see her heatedly debating with herself about floral arrangements.
“Roxy,” I urge, when she seems to be getting sucked into some kind of Pinterest warp tunnel on her phone, “whatever you pick is going to be perfect. You’re marrying Cole. The flowers you’re holding are not going to make that any more or less amazing. It will be incredible no matter what.”
“Heh. Yeah. I’m marrying Cole.” She glances down at her engagement ring, and her smile keeps a secret that even I, her best friend in the entire world, will never know.
It’s not the type of secret you can put into words.
“We’re such old farts,” I complain, before I can start to wonder why that smile makes me feel like someone’s carving out a hollow in my chest. “Look at us, brunching and making wedding plans. We used to be cool.”
“Hey!” DeeDee protests. “I’m still cool!”
She flags our waiter down and leans across the table toward him, impressive cleavage on full display, and in a deceptively innocent voice asks, “Do you serve tequila shots here?”
Thirteen
Julien
TERROIR: The geographical attributes of a vineyard unique to its specific location
“Ihaveactually beento one of these before,” I answer Monroe’s question, “in Paris. It was great.”
We’re sitting next to each at Taverne Toulouse, where the main room has been set up with rows of chairs in front of the stage. Monroe glances at my phone as I slip it back in my pocket for the fifth time tonight, but she doesn’t reprimand me or give me a dirty look.
She gets it. She gets what a big deal it is for me to carve out a few free hours in my schedule, and I know she has to make just as much of an effort. I’ve never been with someone who makes me feel so comfortable in that respect. I almost feel a littletoo comfortable; I’ve mostly been checking my phone for show, to pretend to myself that I’m keeping a handle on work when all I’m really thinking about is her.
