Chapter 2 - Soup on Satin in the Foyer Light
The chandeliers didn't flicker. That was what I remembered later, that the light stayed warm and steady while everything under it came apart. Soup was running off Daniel's chin onto his black shirt and the front of his blue velvet blazer, bright red against the dark fabric. A drop hit the marble floor by his shoe. Someone at the next table gasped and then laughed, a short nervous sound that died fast.
My right hand was still in the air. I could feel the weight of the empty white bowl in it, lighter than I expected. My left hand had moved without me telling it to, down to cover my stomach. The gown pulled tight across me. The baby kicked once, hard, and I realized I was breathing through my mouth.
Carol was beside him, wiping at her cheek with two fingers. The soup had caught the sheer sleeve of her dark green dress and a streak across her jaw. Her short blonde bob hadn't moved. She looked at her red fingertips like she couldn't believe they'd betrayed her, then she looked straight at me.
"Sai chega," she said. Her voice cut through the scrape of chairs. Get out, enough. People around us went very still.
Two waiters had frozen with a tray between them. Past Carol's shoulder I saw three phones held up, red recording lights on. A woman in a silver dress whispered to her husband and didn't lower her phone. At the head table, a man in a tux stood halfway up, waiting to see what kind of night this was going to be.
Daniel laughed. Soup was in his beard. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and shook his head at me, grinning like we were in on something.
"Look at her," he said to the table next to us. "She can't take a joke." He turned back to me and spread his hands wide. The red stained his cuffs. "You gonna cry now, Maya? Huh?"
I waited for the other version of him, the one who put his hand on my lower back when I got up too fast. It didn't come. He glanced at the phones, then back at the crowd, and his grin got bigger. Saving face. Choosing them over me while soup dripped off him.
A security guard in a black suit was moving fast across the marble from the side doors, and behind him the event manager, a young woman with a headset. The manager reached Carol first and touched her elbow.
"Ma'am, do you want us to—"
"Get her out," Carol said, not taking her eyes off me. She dabbed at her sleeve with a napkin someone handed her. "You've made your scene. Go."
The guard stepped toward my chair. I felt the whole room lean in. If I let him take my arm, that would be the video. Pregnant woman dragged out of the charity gala. I set the empty bowl down on the gold charger with both hands so it wouldn't shake. The clink was too loud.
"Don't touch me," I said. My voice sounded low and scraped. "I'm walking."
I pushed my chair back myself. The legs screeched on the marble. My ponytail had come loose on one side and a strand stuck to my neck. I smoothed the front of my champagne gown out of habit and my palm came away smeared pink. The satin was soaked at the waist where soup had splashed back on me.
Daniel stepped sideways to block the aisle, still smiling. "Where you going? Come on."
I looked at him and didn't stop. He didn't move until the guard put a hand lightly on his shoulder.
"Sir, stay here for a minute," the guard said.
"I'm her husband," Daniel said, and laughed again, wiping his mouth.
"I know," the guard said.
I walked. The aisle between the dinner tables felt longer than it had when we'd walked in. My heels slipped once on the polished floor and I caught myself on the back of an empty chair. No one offered a hand. Someone's napkin was on the floor, white against marble. The chandeliers threw little rainbows that moved as I moved.
The foyer was colder. The double doors swung shut behind me and cut the dining room noise to a hum. It was all stone and glass out there, a long empty desk for check-in, a coat rack, my reflection coming back at me from three sides. A girl in a black vest stood by the elevator and stared, then looked quickly down at her tablet.
May you like
I stopped in the middle of the rug and tried to breathe. The stain across my belly had started to set, red darkening to rust on champagne satin. I pressed my hand over it and felt the baby move again under my palm, slow this time. My fingers were shaking.
Behind the doors I could hear Carol's voice, lifted and smooth now, working the room. A ripple of polite laughter. Daniel's laugh under it. No footsteps coming after me.
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