13
“I’ve got it,” you say. You don’t mean for it to sound snappy, but you’re afraid it does.
You want to prove to her that you can do things on your own, that if you entered a relationship, it wouldn’t just be you leaning on her all the time, depending on her to do things for you. You can still hear your ex-fiance’s long-suffering sighs, feel them heavy on the back of your neck.
You get out your phone, take pictures of each part of the menu, magnify, hold it close to your nose so you can make out each word. It takes a very long time, and you can feel her watching you, trying not to watch you. As soon as you find one thing you think you might not dislike, you close your screen, put the phone down. Your head is aching, like it always does when you try to focus on text for too long. You’re also embarrassed, know there’s nothing sexy about what you’ve just done.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying,” she says, “but that looks really difficult. Is that how you have to read everything? Sorry, I hope I’m not being rude.”
“No, it’s fine,” you say. “I have a bunch of software I use on my computer, and usually I can use that to check over a menu before I go somewhere.”
“Shit, I fucked all that up for you today. I’m sorry.”
“You had no way of knowing.” You rub the bridge of your nose, where it feels like there’s an excavation going on inside your skull. You need to make her feel more comfortable, show her that you can have completely regular dates, guilt-free and fun. You can be so fun. You can say fun things. Now is the time to do it, but your brain feels sluggish with pain and shame.
