“Anybody down that way got 1000 tacos and margaritas?”

I read the text and rolled my eyes. That was just like him, incommunicado for a month and then pop back into my life like two hours had gone by.

I typed out a witty response, smirked, and hit send.

The problem was we were both in denial. But I was wearing a new dress and the fact was, I didn’t have dinner plans. So why not?

He pulled in about an hour later. We left right away, with me behind the wheel because I knew where we were going. And because he drives slow and it makes me a little crazy.

It was the first time we’d gotten together for supper in a Very Long Time. Lunch, yes. But lunch is somehow different. Broad daylight doesn’t make for sliding glances and double-entendres. Daytime lunches are for catching up and griping about work issues. But take away the sun and replace it with a moon…things take a more serious note.

So we slid into a booth with all the things left unsaid between us. Things we hadn’t discussed at our lunches. and it was going to be said because enough is enough and I’m not known for my passiveness. We broke the ice by tormenting our poor hapless waitress, who, as it turned out, could hold her own.

“What can I get y’all to drink?”

“Margaritas,” we said simultaneously.

“Monday for y’all, too, huh?”

We smiled.

“And maybe some better lighting?” He said, trying to adjust the lamp overhead. It swayed on its brass chain.

“I’m sorry, he’s old,” I explained with a shrug.

You could tell she wasn’t sure who to side with, but was dying to laugh.

He exhaled and looked at me over his glasses.

“I really had trouble getting in this booth, too. Are there not any tables I don’t have to climb into? That step is dangerous. If I fall, I’ll break a hip,” he went on and I had to hee-haw.

“I apologize, sir. I’m sure your lady friend will be glad to offer you some assistance getting around. I’ll send the owner over so you can voice your concerns to him,” she countered amicably.

“You just worry about bringing us the tequila.”

In this manner, we flirted. Harmlessly. The waitress, who didn’t know what she’d gotten herself into, returned with our drinks and was poised to take our orders.

“Do you have anything that’s not too spicy? I can’t eat anything spicy this late. Gives me heartburn,” he explained.

“He’s on ulcer medication already, we don’t need to aggravate it further,” I added.

“Maybe a bean burrito?” she suggested.

“Oh, Lord, he’s too gassy already!”

This was so much fun. I was getting a lot of amused looks from over the top of his spectacles. I was enjoying myself immensely. We’d always had this friendly banter and it was nice to pick right back up where we’d left off ten years ago.

“Why do you put up with him?” she asked.

“Well, see, he’s got a whole lot of money. I mean, look what I’m driving.” I gestured to the parking lot. “I’d say he’s worth it, wouldn’t you?”

A low whistle. “Damn girl.”

“Now wait just a minute. I’m not that much older than you!”

“It ain’t the years, it’s the miles!” I crowed.

“Careful, I’ll trade you for two twenty-year-olds.”

“Go ahead and try. They wouldn’t put up with your crotchety ass. And you can’t handle me, let alone someone half my age.”

He winked at the waitress. “The truth is, this is our first date.”

“No way,” she said immediately.

I nodded. “It’s true.”

“Well, truthfully, we’re not dating.”

“He’s married,” I told her.

“Wellllll….”

“And I bought that car myself.”

“I’m gonna go get y’all a refill,” she said, darting away.

And we about split our guts laughing. His eyes twinkled and it hit me how much I’d missed him, and I remembered how easy it had always been to talk to him. I missed the talking. I missed all of it.