Zenon's Game Chapter 53

I opened the message and started to type a response. I swallowed, taking deep breaths to stop more tears from escaping. I had to keep it together and leave. I was about to stand up, when I heard a voice at the entrance.

"It's a birthday. Reservation was for 7."

"Certainly Monsieur, I see it here. Let me show you the way."

Oh my god, someone did come. Someone was here. Was that even worse than no one? Now, whoever was here was about to see just how pathetic I am. Watch the humiliation become official.

"Sorry I'm late, I didn't-" he approached our table, "Where is everyone?"

I wiped my eyes with a napkin and turned to face him. Zenon stood in front of me in jeans and a long sleeved, green shirt. His arms were raised as he stared down at the empty table.

"What are you doing here, Zenon?" I asked, hoping he didn't hear my voice crack.

"I was invited," he reminded me. "Was anybody else?"

I smiled through my sadness. I couldn't help it. It must've looked funny.

"Am I the first one here?" he asked, realizing the situation.

I didn't say anything.

"Well sh*t, I'm glad I came."

"Would you care for anything other than water?" the waiter asked, staring at us from under his disapproving nose.

It's been an hour since I arrived at my own birthday dinner. I drank three glasses of water while I waited for no one to show up. And just when I thought no one would, the last person I ever expected to walk through the door... did.

Zenon Albert sat in front of me, his strong arms folded on the white tablecloth. His chiseled features spellbound me.

"Do you want to eat something?" I asked him, since the waiter was waiting for our response.

Zenon looked at me in a way I hadn't really seen before, like he was trying to memorize me in this moment.

He sat back and shook his head.  He said, "Let's go to our spot."

We have a spot?

He handed the waiter a cash tip and got my jacket for me. I was confused.

"What's our spot, Zenon?"

"You'll see."

**

Zenon picked my bike and put it in the back of his jeep. 

"You need a better car or a bigger bike," he said, swiping the pink ribbons that fluttered against his face from the bike's handlebars, "This is a kid's tricycle."

I nodded wordlessly, buckling myself up. I wasn't embarrassed of my bike anymore. We've gone beyond the point of embarrassment now - he's seen me in way too many awkward situations.

Zenon didn't say much as he got in beside me and started the journey to 'our spot.' I didn't realize we had a spot and he wouldn't tell me where it was. In fact, he didn't do much talking. I think he was still processing what had happened – how no one showed up to my birthday.

The realization that I was entirely alone.

"This is a lot of pressure," he finally said.

"What is?"

"To show you a good time on your birthday. I want this to be special."

I glanced at him as he pulled into an empty parking spot. The engine shut off and we were left in a calming silence.

"You don't have to..."

"I want to," he said and his lips broke into a charismatic smile, "You can ask for a refund later."

I smiled.  This was already more than anyone had ever done for me on my birthday.  And it was from the last person I ever expected.  

That's the thing about expectations.  They're never right.  And when you stop expecting, that's when you start to see people for who they really are - for better or for worse.

We got out of the car and I found myself in the middle of green pastures, with no tall buildings in site.  We were thirty minutes outside of town. I saw a green sign over a country farmhouse in front of us.

"What is this place?" I asked.

"My family used to come here when we were little, before dad married his job and mom stopped leaving the house." 

He said it so casually, though it clearly meant a lot to him. I could hear the hurt in his voice and I didn't ask him anymore questions. He took my hand and guided me towards the door.

The restaurant was on a farm. It was all home-made, organic, farm-to-table food. The atmosphere was cheerful and cozy. There weren't many tables, but they were all full of families. We asked for a table by a window.

"Can you not tell them it's my birthday?" I asked, still a bit scarred by all that happened before.

My birthday was never a good day for me.

"Your secret's safe with me," he said.

I believed him.

We settled into our seats and they brought an old-fashioned lantern to light up our wooden table. It cast an ethereal glow over his captivating face.  

It was starting to get dark outside and, as I peered out the window, I saw a pony trot close to our window. I gasped as it pressed its nose against the window, leaving a wet mark. I smiled and pointed to show Zenon but he was already looking at me. I gulped. He smiled back.

This really was a farmhouse.

"I didn't think those pink invitations were your style by the way," he said casually, taking a piece of bread from the bread basket.

He ripped it and put a piece in his mouth. 

"You rejected it anyway," I reminded him.

He swallowed, "But I made it in the end, and that's what counts."  

True.  Though I was still in disbelief that he did.

"CANDACE! ZENON!"

We heard a little boy's voice scream our names and turned around. 

Dupree was sitting two tables down. Dupree: our Apple Cabin camper-turned-fisherman.  

He was with his parents and he shimmied out of his chair, crawled under the table, squeezed through his parents' legs and ran towards us. We were shocked to see him, but he was ecstatic.

We hugged.