THE CANVAS

I haven't always been the most punctual person, but not because I'm lazy or uncoordinated. Usually the reason why I am always late to events is because of work. I've been vying for a promotion where my position would give me freedom from being called at all hours of the day, allowing me to live some semblance of a normal life. Today was no exception to my tardiness, however.

Rushing to get to the restaurant was more anxiety fuelling than being stuck at work, especially as my taxi driver found every possible route that would get us stuck in traffic. As soon as we were a few blocks from the restaurant, I decided I would hoof it on foot.

I ran as fast as I possibly could, carrying my heels in my hands and running barefoot on the pavement. As soon as I was half way to my destination it began to rain --- and when it rains, it certainly does pour.

I was soaked by the time I arrived at the door of The Dashing Damsel Bistro. I was to meet my boyfriend of six months, Michael, two hours prior but had been stuck at work due to a new project being sprung on me last minute. Admittedly, I had lost track of time and forgot to call Michael because of it. I felt it was better to see him in person to explain my absence.

The maitre d' didn't greet me right off the bat as he normally would have, instead he inspected my wet appearance and seemed put off by it.

"Ma'am, this is a fine dining establishment," He whispered under his breath, hoping no one would overhear him to save himself the embarrassment.

"And I'm here to meet my boyfriend, Michael Gislecky, who has had this reservation for two months," I corrected, as if any of what I said held weight.

The maitre d' sighed and checked his clipboard, nodding as his finger pressed against Michael's name.

"I apologize. May I get you a hand towel to dry off?" He asked, greeting me a bit warmly now.

I shook my head.

"I'd prefer if I could just go see my boyfriend before he thinks I've stood him up."

Gesturing me to follow him, the maitre d' headed inside and rounded a few tables. I could already see Michael from across the restaurant, he was glued to his cellphone however, sipping at a glass of red wine.

When I stepped up to the table, Michael took a moment to acknowledge me. As soon as he realized that I had finally arrived, he jumped to his feet. He inspected me once over, but seemed to disapprove of my appearance.

"Della, where have you been? I was worried sick about you," Michael asked, but it seemed like he had to force his ability to care. I could tell he was angry and that he wanted to be angry at me, but he couldn't given that we were in one of the classiest restaurants in the city.

"I'm sorry. I would have been here sooner but work gave me a new project and I couldn't break away until later," I kept it short and sweet.

I took a step towards my chair at the table, waiting for Michael to pull it out for me. He usually did. But tonight he wasn't going to.