Lemonade

The cold but weak lemonade was terribly overpriced, as was everything else on the unintelligible menu. Mel did a quick mental calculation of the money she had left in her wallet, then ordered the Caesar’s Salad. At least she knew what that was.

Across her, Dominique lifted a perfectly-tweezed eyebrow and said, “On a diet, are we?” She cocked her head at the hovering waiter. “I’ll start with the malloreddus, followed by the porceddu. Tell chef not to overcook it this time. Then open my bottle of Vernaccia and give me a glass.”

“Very well, Ms. Cruz. Will that be all?”

“You may serve me sebadas with my coffee. You do remember how I like my coffee?”

“Of course, Ms. Cruz.” The waiter disappeared into the kitchen.

Mel looked around. Noontime sun filtered in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, though its searing heat was immediately neutralized by the quietly efficient air-conditioning. Only three other tables were occupied, yet Mel counted six waiters, not including the one who frowningly led her to Dominique’s table. Funny. She expected this place to be more glamorous. Perhaps the expensive food and snotty waiters gave the restaurant its glitz more than its décor did.

She looked at Dominique, ultra-chic in her all-white pantsuit and stiletto boots, a world away from her own jeans and t-shirt outfit. “Oh, know what? Mike Junior just started school. He’s doing so well. He really loves Math, just like his Mama. Mike was pretty disappointed. I have a picture of Mike and Mikey here.” She rummaged around her bag. “You want to see? They both looked adorable—“ She stopped in mid-babble as she met Dominique’s politely interested gaze. “Or maybe later.” Mel put her tote bag back on the floor and took a sip of the now-tasteless lemonade, at a loss for something to say.

“So, Amelia. It’s lovely to see you.” Dominique laid her napkin on her lap. “But I’m afraid I don’t know how I can possibly help you.”

Mel blushed. “Oh come on, Nikki. You know only Mrs. Masas called me that. And what makes you think I only came to you for help?”

“I prefer to be called Dominique, Amelia. We’ve long outgrown our nicknames.” She paused as the waiter served her the malloreddus, then imperiously nodded her thanks. “But let’s do pretend that this is a purely social occasion. How is Michael?”

“Oh, we’re fine,” Mel said brightly. “Mike is still looking for a job. He stays home mostly and takes fabulous care of Mikey. He says he’s never been as relaxed since that summer The Orphaned Three went to Sagada! Remember how much fun we had, Nik—I mean Dominique?”

Mel immediately regretted her words. She was sure all of them—The Orphaned Three, as they called themselves—remembered that summer right after graduation. That summer when Dominique, her fiancé and her best friend were supposed to have the greatest adventure of their lives. That summer when Mel got pregnant.

“Oh Nikki. Dominique—“

“Of course I remember that summer. We were such kids back then. Everything was a major drama. Everything was blown out of proportion.” Dominique calmly sipped her wine.

The waiter appeared again, this time with Dominique’s main course and Mel’s salad. They ate in silence, Mel uncomfortable and Dominique impassive. After the waiter cleared away the dishes and served Dominique’s coffee, she said, “Are we done with the small talk? What do you really want from me, Amelia?”

Mel shifted in her seat. “I’m really sorry for what happened, Nikki—Dominique. Mike and I, it was—we really didn’t know what to do. It was…”

“As I said. We were young and overly dramatic. But I’m sure you didn’t come here to apologize.”

“No.” Mel took a deep breath and looked squarely at Dominique. “I want you to give Mike a job.” She plunged ahead, despite Dominique’s raised eyebrow. “I know Tito Bert never wanted to see me and Mike again after…what happened. And he took back the job offer for Mike. And he said that Mike would never get a decent job…”

“I believe my father was only looking out for me.”

“…and Mike never did get a good job. But we’ve survived. We’ve pulled through. But now that Tito Bert is…is…gone, and you’re in charge of the company, maybe you could give Mike his job.”

Dominique set down her wine glass. “You think my father’s death qualifies Michael for a job in one of the country’s most prestigious architectural firms?”

“No, no. it’s not that way. Mike will be good for your company. You know Mike’s good. Everyone said so. Aside from your dad’s firm, he had several offers, but Tito Bert made sure those offers were taken back as well…”

“What can I say? My father loved me.”

Mel reached across the table and grasped Dominique’s hand. “Dominique, please. Mike needs this job. You said yourself that we were just young and overly dramatic. Can’t we just let the past go and start again?”

Dominique removed her hand from under Mel’s clammy one. “I trusted you, Mel. You were like a sister to me…”

“I know, I know. We can be like sisters again. One big happy family. Like we were back then.”

“…But we can’t undo the past.”

“I’m pregnant, Nikki.”

"I’m pregnant, Nikki. The words hung in the heavy silence between them, the way it did years ago.

“This time it’s Mike’s.”

“Is that supposed to make a difference, Amelia? Michael made his choice long ago.”

“What could I do? The two of you were the only ones I had. At least you had your father; you weren’t really an orphan like me and Mike.”

“Michael chose you, my best friend, over me, his fiancée. For a baby that wasn’t his.”

“Nikki—we were stupid. Now we’re trying to make the best of it.”

“I was pregnant too, Mel.”

Mel sat back in stunned silence. Dominique signalled the waiter over, then signed the voucher. “Your salad is on me.”

“Nikki. Nikki—how could we have known?” Mel reached out, as if to hug Dominique.

Dominique stood up and gathered her bag and coat. “You have your babies. You have Michael. Be happy, Amelia.” Then she walked off, leaving Mel with her tears and a tepid glass of lemonade.