Original Work: You'll Always Find Your Way Back Home, Chapter 9, Part 3
Chapter 9, Part 3
“Emilia!” My head jerked up suddenly as I forced myself to remember that I was supposed to be Emilia, that whoever was calling for my sister was actually trying to get my attention. When I turned to look in the direction of the door, I felt an a wave of relief unlike any sensation I’d ever felt before wash through my stomach when I saw Joshua heading in my direction. He had just been running late, he wasn’t standing me up, he was here, I was about to have dinner with Joshua Beckett. And he smiled when he saw he had my attention and, maybe I was looking a little too hard, but I was sure that there was sincerity behind the gesture.
Joshua came to stand by the table just as I got to my feet. For a brief second there was the awkward uncertainty that came from neither one of us knowing exactly what to do: shaking hands seemed too formal but a hug seemed to be a little premature. So Joshua just smiled and remarked, “I thought maybe you were ignoring me, I’ve been calling your name and people were looking at me…” He shrugged. “Good to see that you weren’t ignoring me.” Though he was smiling, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Joshua hadn’t been feeling some of the doubt that had just been plaguing my mind.
It took me a minute to realize the reason I hadn’t heard Joshua when he’d been trying to get my attention: I still wasn’t used to responding to my sister’s name. I’d been so lost in my own world that answering to a name that wasn’t mine was completely lost on my overloaded brain. But how could I explain that to Joshua? “No, of course not.” I assured him. “I was just thinking.”
We walked back toward the hostess stand, where the hostess was all ready waiting with menus and a smile plastered on her face. “About what?” Joshua questioned, obviously not shy about asking potentially personal questions.
“About tonight.” I heard myself admitting before I could decide whether or not that it was a good idea or not. Sure, I was nervous about tonight, I was wondering what it would be like to have dinner with Joshua Beckett, I had been wondering what we would talk about but would Emilia have been thinking those same thoughts? It was going to be exhausting to try and think about how Emilia would react while still trying to “be myself” like Schapelle had so naively suggested. If I thought about what Emilia would say and what I would say, it would take me so long to answer a single question that Joshua would probably think that I was mentally incapacitated. Blurting out answers seemed so much more convenient.
The hostess put us in a booth towards the back corner of the restaurant, where we had a little more privacy than the more exposed tables in the center seating area. I glanced around as quickly and as casually as I could, trying to get a good look at the restaurant so that I would be able to accurately remember everything about this night. The lighting in this part of the restaurant was softer and more muted than the bright lighting by the doors, which made everything seem more contained and secretive, like it was easier to believe that you were having a private dinner and private conversation at your dining room table. The table cloths, the fabric of the booths, the carpet, everything was the same deep red, so deep it could almost be called burgundy, the color of a well aged Merlot. And yes, there were chandeliers.
After setting the menus in front of us and assuring us that our server would be by within the minute to take our drink orders, the hostess left with another quick and knowing smile and I wondered if she read the gossip about the restaurant’s patrons.
I looked down at the artful calligraphy on the cover of the menu, advertising the name of the restaurant and some sort of floral design. I quickly remembered the fact that I was sitting across from Joshua Beckett and he was far more interesting (and nicer to look at) than calligraphy and flowers but as soon as I looked at him I felt myself grow even more nervous than I’d been at any point in the night. Oh. My. Goodness. I was sitting at the table with Joshua Beckett. The superstar, the star of a million fantasies. My mouth went dry and my mind went completely blank. What was I supposed to say to him that he could possibly find interesting? I searched my mind for something, any interesting story or tidbit, but my brain was flat-lining.
Joshua didn’t seem to notice the sudden death of my conversation ability. He flipped open his menu but it didn’t hold his attention for long because his eyes quickly lifted onto my face and he smiled. “So, have you ever been here?” I shook my head, relieved that I was still at least in control of my body. “Me neither, but my brother told me it was the most impressive place to take a girl.”
Okay, this was my chance, take this conversation and run with it. This is a great starting point. “Oh?” Fantastic. At least the way that my voice sort of cracked as I uttered that one pathetic little word made it sound like a question and not a statement of disinterest. Still, not exactly the conversation starter that I was going for.
If he was surprised or disappointed or, heck, even disgusted with my inability to form two syllables, Joshua didn’t show it. Instead he gave another shrug and a nervous sort of laugh. “Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted my brother’s judgment, he’s not exactly the biggest ladies man out there.” He remarked and I tried to remember everything that I’d ever read about the members of The Retrievers. I wish I could pause this moment and phone a friend, because Jordan would be a well of information. Right now, I couldn’t even remember his brother’s name. “Maybe I should have listened to-”
“I think it’s nice.” I jumped in, instantly wanting to kick myself. Of course my mouth had to pick that exact moment to start working, when I happened to interrupt Joshua right in the middle of his sentence. Now I really wished I could pause until I could snap myself out of this behavior. What would Emilia think?
Joshua smiled and gave a quick nod. “Good, I’m glad that you like it.” He seemed relieved and briefly looked down at the menu again. “You look beautiful, by the way. I meant to tell you that earlier.” I felt my cheeks flush a deep red at the pleasure of his words. He seemed almost timid in uttering the compliment, the way any normal teenage boy would be around his date. “You make me feel underdressed.” He gestured toward himself, though I thought that he looked incredibly attractive in the deep blue polo and dark jeans that he was wearing, if I did say so myself.
“I think you look great.” I assured him quickly. “I worried about being underdressed too, I had no idea what kind of restaurant this was.” Well it looked like I finally remember how to speak. Hopefully I wouldn’t blow it. “And I still feel kind of underdressed, everyone else seems to have gotten the memo on the evening wear dress code.” I’d felt self-conscious about my simple and summery dress since walking through the door but since Joshua seemed to approve, I felt some of that doubt fall away.
“Oh I got the memo, I just chose to ignore it.” Joshua smiled and I found the gesture contagious. “We can stand out together.” We were all ready the youngest patrons, from what I could tell, but I doubted that we were getting the occasional stare because of our age.
Before I could think of a way to keep the conversation going our waiter finally arrived, armed with a bottle of wine and a polite smile. I didn’t miss the way that he was eyeing me closely while trying not to look like he was staring and I remembered Linda’s brief remark about Emilia’s treatment of her past servers. “Good evening, my name is Roger, it’ll be my pleasure to serve you tonight. Would you care for a glass of the house wine?” No wonder it was so easy for Emilia to indulge in a little bad behavior.
“Just water, please.” I wished there was some secret code to say and please bring it fast before my mouth dries up again and I stop talking but I hoped the waiter would read the desperation in my eyes. I didn’t notice that Joshua was staring at me, as though waiting for my answer until he turned his head to look at the server, requesting water as well.
Roger gave me one last, albeit brief, cautious glance before heading off to fill our order.
When Joshua looked back at me there was something in his eyes I hadn’t seen before, like he was studying me, reappraising me. Maybe I should have accepted the wine. “So,” Joshua began, “what, exactly, about tonight were you thinking about?” Obviously he hadn’t forgotten about my blurted answer.
Now I had to figure out how to answer him all over again. I’d just been so happy that I was forming sentences that I hadn’t really been monitoring what I was saying before but now I was back to that age-old Emilia versus Scout question. But what was so bad with being truthful? Our meeting was all ready based on a lie, so why not add a little bit of truth to the situation? “About how it was going to go.” I admitted. “Whether or not you’d have a good time.” With me I wanted to add but figured that was maybe a little too truthful.
Joshua laughed, though I wasn’t entirely sure at what. “You were worried about whether I would have a good time?” He repeated and before I could fumble a defense for my words (it seemed like being truthful was a bad call) he added, “You’re not at all what I was expecting, Emilia Thompson.”
“What were you expecting?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow, intrigued to hear his answer. Though, I was pretty sure I could make an educated guess.
Roger reappeared with two glasses of water, setting them down beside the menus. “Can I take your dinner orders?” He questioned, looking at us expectantly.
I realized I hadn’t even opened my menu and Joshua hadn’t gotten much farther than the appetizers. Joshua gave Roger an apologetic smile. “I think we need a while longer.” And with that, Roger was off again, no doubt hurrying to attend to another celebrity diner.
Joshua quickly returned to my question. “You want the truth?” I assured him I did. “I was expecting…well, you know, the Emilia from all the news reports and magazines. The Emilia who can’t seem to be nice to anyone, who doesn’t seem to care about anyone but herself, the one who told the reporters all those stories about my brother.”
Again, I flushed, though this time it wasn’t from pleasure. And, again, I felt that guilt over my sister’s actions, the guilt over something I hadn’t even done. I dropped my eyes. “So…why did you ask me to dinner?” I questioned meekly, focused on the calligraphy again. If I opened the damn thing, maybe I’d have the excuse to stare at it.
“I wanted to see if maybe I was wrong.” Joshua admitted and I forced myself to look up again. “After running into you the other day I wondered if maybe there was some truth to this reformation thing.”
‘Truth’ might not be the word I’d use, given the fact that I wasn’t actually Emilia. I raised an eyebrow. “How do you know I’m not that Emilia? We’ve only been together for ten minutes.” I pointed out, doubtful that I could have changed his mind so quickly.
Joshua smiled slightly at my question as though he was pleased that I’d asked. “So far so good.” He answered and I realized that I was doing exactly what Linda had brought me out here to do: be myself. “You haven’t thrown anything at the waiters.” He pointed out.
“Yet.” I hoped that he realized that I was joking and wanted to take that stupid little word back on the off-chance that he might take me seriously and take back his previous words.
But Joshua laughed the way someone would laugh at a joke they understood. “I usually don’t throw things until I get the check.”
“I wish I had your restraint.” I smiled, surprised at how easily the words rolled off my tongue, like I really was a newly reformed Emilia. I seemed to be fitting better and better into this persona of Emilia and myself, ignoring the part of me that would never, ever consider throwing anything at anyone unless I was making an attempt at sports.
“It comes from years of practice.” Joshua feigned pride at his abilities and I smiled. I wondered if he was what I had been expecting, though I couldn’t really put a finger on what I had been expecting in the first place. A celebrity, sure, a pop sensation, a household name, of course, but he was…normal. I guess I wasn’t exempt from the idea that people seemed to have that celebrities automatically transcended human status when they appeared in a magazine.
I flipped open my menu but, like Joshua, I didn’t really look at it. “So, why did you ask me to dinner?” I questioned again, though there was no trepidation this time. “Curiosity?”
This time Joshua seemed to hesitate before answering, as though he was weighing how much he should say. “Well…yeah, a little bit. I…to tell you the truth, I was still a little pissed at you over that whole thing with Stephen.” Oh right, the little incident with his brother. Again, I felt the guilt of Emilia’s actions. “But the other day, like I said, you seemed different somehow and I wondered if it wasn’t finally time to forgive and forget the whole thing. And, you know, the band is still interested in having you record with us.”
I frowned and thought about Emilia’s words and wondered if her comment about the ‘business meeting’ hadn’t been a little closer to the mark than I’d wanted to believe. “Oh right, the band.” I mumbled without even realizing that I was pouting slightly.
Quickly, Joshua added, “Not that that’s why I’m here. I mean, Desmond would have gladly taken my place. I arm wrestled him for it.”
Would it be reading too much into his words if I thought that Joshua was trying to tell me that he had invited me out to dinner because he wanted to take me out to dinner? That the band and the mess with his brother had nothing to do with it, but that when we’d met the other day he’d actually been interested in me and had asked me out on his own free will? I decided that I was entitled to a little in-depth reading of his words. “Well, I’m honored.” I said, trying to go for nonchalant but I knew the smile on my face was giving me away. Joshua Beckett had asked me out, not because he had to but because he wanted to. In your face, Emilia. “An arm-wrestling match is serious business.”
Joshua grinned. “I’m glad you understand the seriousness of the situation.” He said. “And now you know why I won’t be doing any heavy lifting tonight.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Well, now I’m interested to see where the rest of the night is going if there might be heavy lifting involved. But I didn’t really dress for heavy lifting, so we might be in trouble.” Joshua laughed and I couldn’t help but chime in. This was going better than I thought, I was actually carrying on a conversation, making jokes…I was proud of myself.
Of course, I should have known that it would have been too good to last.
“Emilia!” It took me a minute to remind myself that I was being summoned, though I didn’t place the overly chipper and excited voice that was calling my sister’s name and when I turned away from Joshua, I saw Michaela Foxx heading over to our table.
I took one look at the fake, overly cheerful and friendly smile stretched across her face and the trouble in her eyes and frowned. “This isn’t good.” I muttered. Run-ins between Michaela and Emilia never seemed to end well.
If you enjoyed this, please check out the next part here.