Escape, chapter two

I slid out from my safe haven, reluctant to go back to my table. I was actually thinking of a way I could get to the exit, out on the street and in a cab to anywhere but here. But I walked the path through the other diners wondering why in times like this we project that everyone else is free, happy and having the best time of their lives.

I tried to make eye contact with Tonya, give a 'let's go' signal. She looked up while talking to Sam as I approached. I pumped my eye brows up and down and jutted my chin towards the door, "let's get the fuck out." I thought she was getting it but I realized her gaze towards me was vague and she was lost in her conversation.

The act of reentering a scene of a crime knowing you are about to commit the murder before it happens is excruciating. I pictured Sam and Dave with concern and dismay in their clucks and hugs as they open the door to a distraught Tonya tomorrow. She would be crying and looking smaller than normal, they would sit and wonder why I would break from her like I did, what could have occurred in my thinking since nothing seemed wrong. They would guess an affair, then come to the conclusion it's just some troubled writers need to be alone and brooding, that it's our nature in order to create. More consoling, choosing sides, (Tonya's), making the spare bed so she could stay close to friends who loved her, etc.

I didn't much care at the moment. What I needed more than anything was to get the hell out of here and away from the glances of the woman who just toppled my life. Without realizing I picked up my fork and made an aggressive jabbing motion at her that luckily no one caught but her. Her eyes widened and she looked as if she were staring at a rabid squirrel.

I'm loosing my shit and I need to get up from this table. Dry mouthed, I lurched towards my glass of water knocking it over. Simultaneously everyone scooted their chairs back and lifted their arms like they were on a roller-coaster ride, all exclaiming, "ooohh!" I flushed and stammered an apology, collecting all the available napkins, uselessly dabbing and rerouting the water away from laps. The server came with a towel and I grabbed up my coat, scarf and hat, "So sorry, listen I'm not well, I mean I don't feel well. I'm gonna end this, or rather say good night and go away, home and leave here...yeah, I'm just gonna head on home, away, to the apartment. Tonya I'll see you later. No no, stay. I had a great time." Quick pats and shoulder squeezes, quizzical looks and then I was free.