Awkward Lunch Plans

As Carl's words hung in the air, I felt a sense of resignation wash over me. I gazed out the window, hoping that the conversation would somehow find its end, one way or another. Agreeing with whatever Carl was saying seemed like the easiest way to put an end to it.

Unable to hold my silence any longer, I finally mustered the courage to voice my complaint. "You didn't inform me he'd be joining us for lunch," I directed my frustration towards Carl, hoping to divert the conversation to a more palatable topic. Discussing a man like Arthur seemed far more preferable than delving into my own complicated past with my parents. It wasn't that there was anything inherently wrong with them, but it was me and my unpleasant history that I didn't want to confront right now. The thought of sharing a meal and a table with a man whose very presence I could hardly stand was unsettling.

Confusion etched across Carl's face as he asked, "Who?"

"Your neighbor, Arthur," I replied, my tone tinged with exasperation.

"Oh, we already had plans to go out for lunch today. I thought it would be great if you joined us. Sorry, I forgot to inform you," Carl explained, his words drenched in a hint of remorse.

I was taken aback by his revelation. It wasn't Arthur who was invited to dine with us, but me who was added to their plan. I had been laboring under the false assumption that Carl had invited him along. The realization left me momentarily speechless.

"Well," I hesitated, the mere thought of sitting at the same table with a man who deeply bothered me burdening my mind.

"Can't we go alone?" I mustered the courage to ask, hoping to sway Carl's decision.

"What's wrong with him?" Carl countered, his confusion evident.

"Well, you know it better than me," I retorted, my voice tinged with frustration.

"Grace, he's a nice man. You don't know him yet. I've been living in this building for quite a lot of years, and so has he. He's just like a brother to me, a good friend. You'll enjoy his company as much as I do. Aside from the occasional off days, he's a pretty reasonable man to spend time with," Carl reassured me with a smile.

"Let's see," I replied, not entirely convinced, as my gaze landed on a man approaching our car. He was impeccably dressed in a sleek black suit, with trousers that hugged his legs and a coat that fit him perfectly. His neatly slicked-back hair and well-groomed light beard added to his polished appearance. Carl waved his hand in greeting as he approached.

Soon enough, his face appeared in the window of the passenger seat as Carl beckoned him inside. "Off to the driver's seat," Carl instructed him, his tone amicable.

He smiled at Carl and briefly locked eyes with me, sending an inexplicable shiver down my spine. The door on the driver's side swung open, and he gracefully slid into the seat before shutting it firmly. The scent of his cologne enveloped my senses, its richness and sophistication captivating me. It was a fragrance that spoke of a man with refined tastes and discerning choices.

"Hi, Grace," he greeted me, his voice oozing with masculinity as he tilted his head slightly. The timbre of his voice seemed to suffocate the words in my throat, leaving me momentarily speechless.

As the seconds ticked by, I managed to force the words out, greeting Arthur with a hesitant, "Hi." There was a brief pause, filled with a certain tension that hung in the air, as if we were all aware of the underlying unease.

"Sorry for being a little late," Arthur offered his excuse to Carl, his voice tinged with a note of regret.

Unable to resist the impulse to insert a jab, I interjected from the backseat, "We can understand. After getting drunk that much, it's obvious one can't get up early." My words were laced with a touch of sarcasm, directed at Arthur. He turned his head towards me, his gaze narrow and furrowed, piercing through me. My heart skipped a beat, and the muscles in my rear tightened involuntarily. I quickly regained my composure, making a conscious effort to hide any signs of nervousness.

Carl swiftly intervened, diffusing the growing tension. "It's okay. Let's not waste any more time in banter. I'm starving," he interjected, his voice full of enthusiasm.

Arthur redirected his attention forward, his hand gripping the steering wheel as he started the car. A heavy silence settled in the vehicle, broken only by the blaring horns and cacophony of passing vehicles. The journey to our destination proceeded in solemn silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

Carl finally broke the silence, his voice shattering the stillness that hung above us. "Do you have the day off?" he inquired, his tone laced with curiosity.

"No, I have a night shift," Arthur responded, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

Carl nodded in understanding. "Ah, that explains why you didn't wake up early. I always thought of you as an early bird," he remarked, a touch of amusement in his voice.

Arthur's curt response betrayed a hint of rudeness, and I was acutely aware of the reason behind it—I was the cause. I knew that all too well. The tension between us lingered, unspoken words hanging in the air like an invisible barrier.

Soon enough, we arrived at the restaurant they had chosen for our lunch. It was conveniently located not far from our building, and the journey took us a mere ten minutes. Arthur brought the car to a sudden halt outside the restaurant, and Carl wasted no time in opening his door and stepping out. Just as I was about to exit the car, I caught a glimpse of Arthur turning around, his voice carrying a hint of defiance as he uttered, "I'm not a drunkard."

I held my tongue, sensing the potential for the situation to worsen if I were to respond. Silence seemed the safer option, so I remained wordless as I slid out of the car. Carl walked ahead of me, his presence casting a shadow over me, both metaphorically and physically. I could feel his figurative weight pressing down upon me as we made our way towards the entrance of the restaurant, with Arthur trailing behind.