The Cats are Fine

“How about here? The lady I was chatting to on the plane said that if you’re not going to try food fresh from the sea, then there’s no point coming.”

“How about seeing me?” Marie smiled. She was wearing the red dress she knew he liked. “I don’t know, Ryan. I ate there last week.”

“Yeah, with work. I think even your mother would lose patience with that lot.”

“I thought you liked James.”

Ryan shrugged. The restaurant he was looking at had the run-down cheeriness of a family business. Chairs were sprawled outside with the ones furthest away from the kitchen almost on the beach. The sea was now empty of people. Everyone was out in town.

“Was the food any good?” Ryan asked.

“It wasn’t awful,” she admitted. “But do we have to? It’s not too late to order a taxi to the next town.”

“Come off it, Marie. It looks lovely. Besides, I’m knackered. I could do with an easy meal tonight.”

Ryan led Marie past tables bustling with couples and the occasional family. A smartly dressed Spaniard wandered over to meet Ryan and Marie.

“Hello, lovely lady. How wonderful it is to welcome you back.” The waiter nodded his head at Ryan. “And he wasn’t with you last time. Welcome, welcome. My name is Luis Aparicio. Will it just be a table for two tonight?”

“Yes,” Ryan said and pointed out of one of the windows. “It’s our anniversary, so if we could have a table as close to the sea as you can, that’d be great.”

“Anything for Sir and Madam. I’ll be back in just a moment.” Luis strolled over to a table, humming.

“Why did you tell him it was our anniversary?” Marie demanded.

“Well it is, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but you don’t need to use it to get a better seat. That table was already free.”

Once Luis finished setting the table, they sat opposite each other and pondered over the menu. After only a few minutes, Luis was back at their table to take their orders.

“Would Sir and Madam like to order some drinks while they decide on their food?”

“Do you want to share a bottle?” Ryan asked Marie.

Before she could answer, Luis chuckled. “She doesn’t share.” He mimicked glugging an invisible bottle.

“Well today, we’ll split the house wine,” Marie said, her face flushing.

Once Luis started chatting to another couple, Ryan leant across the table and whispered, “What’s his deal?”

“Let’s just say I was a bit drunk last time I was here.” Marie kept her eyes lowered.

“The night before those big, important conferences you’ve been banging on about for weeks?” Ryan wasn’t looking at Marie either, but only because he was preoccupied with lathering his bread with butter.

“It was the last day. Everyone went out to celebrate.”

“The last day?” Ryan pointed the knife at her. “So, you were here yesterday then?”

“And last week. I forgot, alright. Come on, let’s just try and have a nice time.” Ryan was silent for a second. Marie glanced up. She wasn’t crying, he could see that, but if he kept on pushing her, he knew she would. He held out his slice of soggy bread. She accepted. He smiled.

.

The house wine was a sharp white that got them both drunk quickly. Marie ordered another bottle after their starters. The waves lapped onto the beach and the wind was cooling after the heat of the day. At first, Ryan had worried that surprising Marie at her hotel had been a stupid idea, but his fear quelled as she joked that she was just annoyed at him for letting her pack everything before having to unpack again. It had only been just over a week since he had last seen her but it had felt a lot longer. As soon as he saw Marie and they had kissed, he knew he wasn’t just looking forward to a holiday, but being back with her.

Although her face was already slightly red from the wine, Marie's cheeks suddenly flushed a dark crimson and her smile dropped. She was looking past Ryan.

“What is it?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing.” Her head snapped back to Ryan. “I just spaced out for a second.”

Ryan turned around. A waiter wearing a red tie was taking orders from a few seats behind them. He was younger than Luis, but not so much to be his son. He figured he was mid-twenties, but definitely no older. A kid.

“I forgot to ask, who’s feeding the cats while we’re away?” Marie tugged on Ryan’s shirt sleeve.

“He’s a looker.”

“Mrs Gillian, I presume?”

“What do you think?” Ryan stuck his finger out at him. “He’s handsome, isn’t he?

“It’s rude to point.” Marie snatched his hand. He held onto her, his fingers around her wrist.

“Marie?”

“I don’t know. I guess he is, but not my type.” Ryan let go of her hand. A stubborn silence sat between them, an unwelcome guest. Both stared at the white tablecloth, dirtied by the remains of the starters.

Ryan sighed, “The cats are fine.”

They ate their mains in interspersing silence. Outside, the waves were now hitting the beach with increasing ferocity. The other couples moved inside, leaving just them. When Luis asked if they would like desserts, they politely declined and asked for the bill.

“You know, I’m feeling pretty tired. Travelling really takes it out of me,” Ryan said.

Marie nodded, a tear forming in the corner of her eye. “I think we should talk when we get back to the hotel.”

Luis didn’t come back out to deliver the bill. Instead, it was the waiter with the red tie. He was also carrying a bottle of red wine. He gave Ryan the bill and offered Marie the bottle.

“What’s this?” She asked.

“A gift from us.” He grinned. “Luis says it is your anniversary. I picked it out specially.”

Ryan kept his hands clenched beneath the tablecloth. “You’re too kind, really. You shouldn’t.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He handed the bottle to Marie. “Take it as a sign for many anniversaries to come.” He was still grinning, like he had little fish hooks pulling at the corner of his lips.

Ryan watched as Marie looked at him, and then back to the waiter. He felt like a bull, with that red fluttering in front of him, taunting him. Marie took the bottle. The matador had stabbed him. But Ryan knew he would. Does a bull know they’re going to be stabbed before their last fight? Probably not, but a bull never had to sit there, watching the heat in Marie’s face as she looked at the waiter. Ryan glared at him, imagining pouring the wine over his white shirt to turn it the same colour as his tie. The sea was roaring as the waves smashed into the beach. The ring box in his pocket was an anchor, dragging him down to the bottom of the frothing ocean.