Jon and Lena

Looking over a fancy steak dinner in Rendezvous, Lena held her stomach and to her boyfriend’s puzzled face she responded, “It’s dry.”
“What?” he asked with a most certainly staged face of unintention.
Lena turned to face him and make the address more personal, “My steak is too dry. I can’t eat dry steaks.”
“Well for cryin out loud Lena put some steak sauce on it, or tell the waiter. What am I supposed to do about it?”
“I just thought I’d tell you why I’m not eating, that’s all.”
“Dammit Lena what’s up with you lately?” He said in a most elegant tone. It was almost impossible to think he was being a complete asshole.
Offended she raised her voice with reprise, “What do you mean what’s up with me? I just don’t like the steak here that’s all. Cant a girl have some goddamn preference anymore? Or should I just devour it because you bought it for me?”
“Lena, not here. Don’t breakdown here. If you’re going to argue with me at least let’s go outside.” he said in a persuasive tone instead of the demanding tone it would’ve taken to achieve his motive.
“No, if you’re going to be a complete jerk to me, I at least want everyone to know that I didn’t take it lying down. I’m tired of all the damned circumstance with you. Why can’t I not like my steak? And why can’t I not feel like dancing tonight? Do you think I don’t want to dance? Because dammit Jon, if you asked me to dance and you really, I mean really meant it, then I’d dance with you. But every time you’ve ever asked me to dance it was because of some goddamn stimuli.” Jon sunk into his chair, sliding with much intention under the table as if he were playing limbo and Lena just kept pushing the bar down on his chest.
She broke off again into a mocking tone, “‘There’s music playing so why don’t we dance. It’s a dance party so it’d be rude if we didn’t dance. Other people are dancing so we should dance. It’s a ball so we should tango.’ For CHRISSAKE! Why can’t you just ask me to dance for once without any conditions, without any stimuli telling you that you must dance? Why cant you just want to dance with me instead of wishing to purvey the visual of dancing to an audience of people who aren’t really paying much attention to whether or not we are dancing for pleasure or because you have a fear of being the man with two left feet in a room full of choreographers from American Bandstand. I bet you nobody has ever cared a single bit about our dancing in any place, no matter how fancy.”
“Let’s get out of here.” Jon’s voice protruded from almost completely underneath the table, “please, let’s get out of here now.”
“And you want to leave why?” she started in again, “Because we aren’t up with the Joneses? Because we don’t look happy like the goddamn Brady Bunch? I bet you feel like everyone in the room is staring at you don’t you? Well how vain, because you’re not even worth worrying about Jon. No one in this godforsaken restaurant cared a smidgen about you before and now all eyes are on you and you’re embarrassed. If you really want to leave then get out of here Jon, you don’t need me to give you directions. I’m not your goddamn cartographer. Go get yourself a cab, I’m going to stick around and enjoy looking at my dry steak for a little while. At least the music here’s nice. Maybe I’ll find someone who actually wants to dance with me.”
Jon got up and, with hatred intended he breathed, “You make me a miserable man.” His face was drowning in perspiration from the verbal exhibition of, in his opinion, pure malice. His expression changed from purely embarrassed to absolute infuriation as he walked across the floor, meeting eyes with everyone in the place. Everyone stared at him as he walked up the stairs and onto Escape Alley.
Crying now, Lena poured a whole bottle of Heinz steak sauce all over the place, surprisingly some of it even hit the steak. She almost laughed but it was just a mumbled beginning to her sobs. She sat and cried for a minute or so.

She distanced herself in her chair and tried to remember a better time with Jon. She went back to their first date. She remembered how Jon had come to pick her up in his father’s new coupe. How he’d washed the damn thing even though it had just come from the car lot and there wasn’t a single smudge or crumb anywhere. He took her to this fancy upscale place somewhere in downtown. The name escaped her mind, but she remembered the environment well. The white clothed tables lined the perimeter of the dance floor where most of the patrons were most of the night. Jon and Lena’s table was close to the door and almost seemed to be invisible due to a pillar that came down from the ceiling and blocked their view from half of the room. Of course Jon would pick a table where he couldn’t be seen. He never liked to be seen unless he knew for certain without a doubt that he looked damn good and that nothing embarrassing was going to happen. He ordered for them, a steak dinner if you’ll believe it. A goddamn steak dinner, she thought. The steak there was dry too, but for some reason then she felt the responsibility to at least devour a portion of the steak, so as not to be rude to her date. He even asked her to dance with him. She remembered his ‘proposal’ to dance, “Babe, what do you say we get up and dance like the rest of these folks?” Damn him if he wasn’t always trying to be like everyone else, but she agreed. She danced with him with the greatest pain inside her telling her to walk out on him. She couldn’t stand to bear him any more, but she danced with him. Something about him made her think that he wasn’t all that bad. Maybe he’s worth being so mediocre for.

She slammed her hand on the table to jar her mind from that dream. Then all of the ambient noises in Rendezvous went mute. A few breaths were drawn aback and Lena could hear chairs moving slowly, but absolutely not a word. She felt a presence before her, someone’s shadow overlapping hers. She took her hands away from her face and looked up into the barrel of a gun just before it put her brains against the back wall. Then it retracted and splattered Jon’s brains onto the ceiling but not before he made a final statement, “I’m sorry about this mess.”