Chapter 8: Wednesday (Dana)

I was crammed into a corner of the booth with Toni, Ned and Fran, when Toni asked, "What do you do for them?" She meant at work.

"I'm International Sales Manager. We have a lot of retail customers overseas, mostly in Europe. They're my job. There's not much travel, but some."

"You study Marketing in college?" she asked.

"What I do is really logistics — distribution, not really Sales. No, I was good old English Lit. When I went to work for them, I was just an assistant in Sales. But, when we started getting stuff in French and Italian, I got to handle that, because I know the languages."

"Where'd you learn them? Not in college?" Ned suggested.

"No, at home. My folks are both language professors. Mom always speaks Italian to me, and Dad always speaks French. I learned English on the street—it's my third language." I grinned because it really seems funny, even to me.

"Wow, that's weird. What do they speak to each other?"

"They speak English to each other. But, when I spoke English to them, they wouldn't hear me. They still don't." I felt the sort of weird feeling that always sets off in me. "I always sort of resented that, at least until we talked about it. They explained they really wanted me to be fluent in three languages, even if it made me angry sometimes. At the time, I wasn't satisfied, but now I understand."

"But, just talking to your folks doesn't make you really fluent, does it?" Fran asked.

"No, not really. Of course, I learned to read in both those languages. There were always magazines and books around. And, yes, you need to be able to talk to lots of people. But you see, summers, my folks have a place in the south of France where we always went. So, I spent every summer talking French and Italian with the local kids and the others who vacationed there. Picked up some German, too, 'cause there's always a lot of them around. So, that's how I got into international sales. Sort of by the back door. But, I love it."

Satisfied, they went on to something else. Wednesdays aren't all that heavy; we're there for fun and beer. But the talk brought back thoughts of sunshine on the beach at Le Cap D'Agde and the sweep of the ocean near our apartment. I could feel the sand between my toes and see myself wandering down the beach toward Sète with the other guys I knew. I'll be back there again soon, with Ed — and I can't wait to share it with him.

I poured the rest of my beer and let my thoughts wander back to that French coast, the beach at least five kilometers long, the low dunes, the trees and campgrounds behind them. August was always crowded with vacationers, and we'd travel a lot then — go to Naples or Florence or Venice. If it got really hot, we'd go north to Germany or England, where it's usually cooler. But always near the water, at a beach or a spa where we could lie in the sun.

Fran nudged me. "Hey, you'll fall into your beer and drown. Come to the can with me, I'm about to burst." So, we slid out of the booth and went off to pee. When I got back, Ed was there, and I slid in across from him. We have this sort of rule at Wednesday — you're not supposed to sit next to your lover or date — at least, not all the time — and when you go to the toilet, you don't get your old place back, you have to take the next seat on the outside of the booth. Keeps people mixing a little. Anyway, this time Ed was across and inside one seat further. I blew him a kiss and settled down next to Rudy. Fran sat across from me, next to Ed.

"Hi, Rudy, where's Melanie?" I asked, sort of touching him with my shoulder. Rudy turns me on.

"She just went into the ladies', Dana. She'll be along soon. Surprised you didn't see her. Didn't you just come from there?"

"Yeah, but you know how it is, you can't see who's sitting down in there."

"Uh-uh. Never been in there — at least not that I admit. How're you doing? Busy?"

I responded with small talk. Rudy is like a lot of guys; wants to impress you with how hard he has to work. That's one thing I love about Ed. He never feels he has to try to impress people with things like that. He works hard, but he loves it and doesn't mind saying so. I feel the same way.

Pretty soon, Melanie came and sat next to me. She kind of pushed into the booth, so I had to scrunch up against Rudy — not that I minded. I could feel his hip and thigh alongside mine. And Melanie on the other side, her shoulder next to me. It was cramped, but it felt good, too. I picked up my glass and took a long drink.

"Got enough room, Dana?" Melanie asked me, her voice low and quiet.

"As much as I need, Mel," I said. "I like the way you feel. And you know damn well I've got Rudy on the other side. He feels good, too."

Melanie's voice kept its low pitch. She turned slightly, and the side of her breast just grazed my arm. She meant it to, so I leaned into her a tiny bit. Just not so anyone could see. "I figure he'll get all stirred up feeling you next to him, and then I can spend the rest of the evening relieving his frustrations. Mind?"