"Sure," I said, because, well - what else could I say?
I was going to have to deal with this.
God damn it.
***
Stop fighting it. Just stop. Why bother? Act like a normal person. Tell her how you feel. Ask her to be your girlfriend.
The idea almost made me snort out my tea. How would Jill react, if I came to her like that? She'd probably laugh at me. Think I was joking. Slap me, maybe. Any of those would be reasonable reactions. Far more reasonable than my assuming she'd actually want to be with me in the long term.
She didn't love me. She didn't even like me. She liked parts of me, and I could attest - that really wasn't enough to make for a healthy relationship.
Not that I know anything about healthy relationships. But I knew enough about unhealthy ones that I felt like it made up the difference.
I had to do something, though. I couldn't just ignore this anymore.
If only I could figure out what.
***
"Jill," I said, at quitting time. It was the first time we'd really spoken all day. She turned to me, her face softer and more open than I'd ever seen her.
God, what have I done?
"Listen, I need to talk to you about something important," I said, feeling a tendril of guilt slowly wrap its way around my heart. "Do you have any plans for dinner tomorrow night?"#p#分页标题#e#
Her eyes went very big, and I tried hard to convince myself that she wasn't imagining something that I never intended.
"Don't you need to be here?" she asked.
I shook my head. "Don't worry about that," I said. "Yes, or no?"
She swallowed a few times, with an effort. "Yes," she said. "Of course."
A smile crept across her face as she went to gather her things. Like she knew a secret that no one else did.
Please, don't let her hate me.
At least, not any more than she already does.
***
Jill showed up to the restaurant glowing all over, in a long blue dress that made her eyes shine.
"Thank you for coming," I said, as she sat down. "I really do appreciate it."
She nibbled on her lower lip, a little confused.
Please don't let her think this is personal. Please don't...
What on earth was I thinking, bringing her here like this? I'd intended for it to be a peace offering, but this...I realized now how it looked, and I saw it clearly in her face, for the first time. The one thing I'd been denying for so long, I hardly remembered when it started.
There was respect in her face, admiration, appreciation. All the things I had wanted from her. Everything I'd asked for.
But more than that, there was love.
A sick feeling crawled through my stomach. The server approached, hesitated a few paces away. I made a small gesture to dismiss him.
"I have to ask you something," I said, hardly hearing the sound of my own voice.
"Yes," she said softly, still biting on her lip, as it grew redder and redder.
"I'd like for you to be my head chef," I said, the words falling like lead all around us. "I think you've more than proven yourself."
Her face fell. I watched it, that moment when she went from hope to realization - and it sunk in, slowly, yet oh-so-quickly at the same time.
I had never felt worse about something in my life.
But she wants this, doesn't she? It might not be what she expected, but she wants...she wants this. Anybody would want this. It's a once-in-a-lifetime...
She was sitting there, very calmly, I thought, not saying a word. Just processing what I'd said. Maybe this wasn't going to be as bad as I thought. Maybe I'd just been attributing all sorts of feelings to her, all kinds of wish fulfillment. Would you really rather have her be heartbroken over you, than happy?
"I'd like you to start next week," I said.
"I didn't say I'd take it." The words came out slowly, her voice sounding flat and dispassionate. I blinked a few times.
"Jill," I said, slowly, "are you really...are you really telling me that you need to think about this?"
"No," she said.
My blood ran cold. "I don't follow," I said, though I was beginning to.
"I don't want the job," she said, calmly. "But thank you for offering."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Appareil
A marinade, for instance, is a type of appareil - a basic preparation or mixture of any kind. That's a term a lot of people never bother to teach, or learn, because it seems too simple. Too basic. But sometimes, going back to the basic principles is exactly what's called for.
- Excerpted from Dylan: A Lifetime of Recipes
***
Jill#p#分页标题#e#
***
"I don't want the job. But thank you for offering."
Suddenly, this whole restaurant was too small, too stifling. I stood abruptly and hurried for the door, praying that Max wouldn't chase after me. A few blocks down, I glanced over my shoulder. Nothing. I felt a pang of something that was certainly not disappointment, and continued on my way.