Writing Words - writing it is the only way of getting it written

She looks at him and nods. Mario is right, but getting red wine all over Reilly's white cashmere sweater would feel really good.

"I know, Mario, I know. And you know that I would never treat a guest disrespectfully. I depend on my tips, you know, and a good review from that jerk will most likely result in more tips. I'm good, really. Don't worry."

Now that she has calmed down Mario, all she has to do is convince herself to serve the drinks instead of pouring them on Reilly. Not only would it be a bad idea with regard to Reilly's revenge, she would also look like a lunatic in front of Kristen and Karena, and she needs them to bring in more people like George. Hopefully not all their acquaintances are friends with arrogant food writers. Fact is, they are spending a lot of money at that table, and that is what they need right now. Not that Carla really has any idea about the business side of the restaurant, but she has the feeling that the last three weeks can't have been good for Mario's profits. She has certainly realised the decrease in her own income, since she hasn't taken home as much in tips this week as she used to.

I carry a huge responsibility here, it is my job to make Reilly feel comfortable in the restaurant. Mel's dishes may well have shown him that there is no such thing as the impeding demise of Mario's, I could never forgive myself if I ruined this by letting my dislike take over and determine the way I treat Reilly. I should be grateful that Reilly is the only obnoxious guest tonight, otherwise this night could have been a nightmare.

Shortly after 20:00, Kirsten walks into the restaurant, followed by Karena and a man Carla doesn't know. Nick phoned in earlier to let them know he would be there around 21:00 with two business partners - important ones he wants to impress, too. Rory and Mike brought their friends Daisy and Lilac. Daisy is really called Daisy, but Lilac's real name is Heinz. How he came to be known as Lilac, nobody knows. Lilac always says that he is going to tell the story about his nickname, but then he doesn't. This has lead to a lot of speculation, including the suspicion that Lilac came up with the nickname himself because he hated Heinz so much. Which would be a perfectly reasonable explanation, as far as Carla is concerned. Lilac is thin and not very tall, and he looks much more like a Lilac than like a Heinz.

He used to say that anything but living in the moment was a waste of time. You'll never know when it is over, He said, in this crazy world there is only one thing that is for certain, and that's that nothing is for certain. Therefore you have to live life to the max while you can. You might be dead tomorrow.

He was right, of course. But it is hard to live in the moment when the moment is so much worse than what used to be. I used to be with Him, and I want to be with Him again. I don't really care what happens in between. I have to care, though. What am I supposed to tell Him when he comes for me and asks what I did while He was away? I can't say I did nothing, I put my life on hold because He was gone. How will that make me look? I don't want Him to think that I am this pathetic little girl who is lost without Him. That is not true, either. At least, it used to be not true, I am not so sure anymore now. It took the life right out of me when He left, and I am struggling to get it back.

"How did you meet your husband?"

Like she doesn't know that. Wasn't she His partner for years - He must have told her. Might be she want to hear my side, though. Anyway, since I didn't know anything about Him then, I can tell her the truth for once. Actually, it's a story I enjoy telling, I can't believe I haven't told her before how we met.

"We met in New York. We met in Central Park, it was early in the morning and I was stretching after my morning run. I was totally lost in thought, and I didn't realize that He approached me. When I finally saw Him He was very close already and about to raise both His arms - I thought He was some perv who wanted to attack me. The thing is, I had been to a self-defense class for women the weekend before, and I did the first thing I remembered from it, namely to hit attackers in the face. My hand landed on His ear with such force that he lost His balance for a moment and He had to lean on the tree that I had used as a footrest while stretching. 'Whoa, easy,' he said, 'all I want to know is what time it is. My stupid watch broke, look.' That's what he wanted to do earlier when I took his half-lifted arm as a sign of imminent attack. 'Oh my God, I am so sorry. I thought you - I am really so sorry. Will you accept my apology over coffee?' He said he would and we went for a coffee. For several coffees, really. He said He felt bad that I had to pay for all the coffee and water and the ginger snaps we had because He never brought any money for his run, and that's why He invited me for dinner the following day. We had been together ever since."

I accepted Karena's offer to move in with her without even looking at the condo. I'd rented the first apartment that was tolerable when I got to New York - I hate staying in hotels on my own. I never minded when He was with me, and we stayed in a lot of hotels. I wanted a place where I could leave anytime. The reason I took Karena's offer was not the money - He left me a lot of that. I wonder how He survives, he didn't take larger sums out before he disappeared, and He can't access the account anymore without alerting Them. I am sure They have tapped the bank account somehow. I guess He must have put some money aside in another account - most likely in Switzerland. Not that I needed His money in the first place - my travel guides sell consistently to keep me afloat, and I made a lot as a freelance travel writer while I jetted around the globe with Him. I could well afford to buy my own condo here, as a matter of fact. I don't want to tie myself down to the city at the moment, though - I need to be able to leave quickly when He makes contact. Lately I have been thinking that maybe it hadn't been the best idea to move into Karena's place, I don't think He will get in touch while I live here. On the other hand, They would have watched me anyway no matter where I lived. So every time the doubts about living with Karena pipe up, I quell them by thinking that I might well have speed up the process of convincing Them that there is no point watching me when I decided to live here.

I think this is part of Their training, as well. Whatever I try to get it my way, Karena has an idea to turn it against me. You can argue all you want, but They will always come up with a suggestion you cannot possibly turn down without contradicting yourself. I cannot tell her that I am not hungry, after all, my stomach has seen to that, and I don't want to tell her I changed my mind about having sushi because I crave it. There is something about the combination of aromas that makes me feel better instantly, no matter the circumstances. The texture of salmon and tuna sashimi makes me forget the world around me - for as long as I am sitting in Ivy's with a pair of chopsticks in my hand I am in paradise. As long as I don't look up I can even fool myself into thinking that it is Him sitting across the table, not Karena.

"It's a little like scrap-booking, I suppose. I just like to keep the receipts to document the price changes in groceries over time, and also to see what kinds of food I was into at a certain time," she told me the first time I saw her with her notebook, the receipts and the glue-stick. "I went to a frozen pea phase a year ago - look, frozen peas every time over three months." She handed me an older notebook and made a movement with her hand which was supposed to mean, take the damn thing and look at it already. Indeed, Karena had bought tons of frozen peas, and the Food Emporium receipts were over a year old. If that is not meticulous planning, I don't know what is. It is a weird hobby, as well, and I wonder who of Them came up with the idea - the person should definitely give fiction writing a go.