LIZZIE'S WORLD: Dinner with Chris

I am still feeling dazed and shell-shocked as Chris and I have dinner at a fancy, fine-dining establishment where the waiters are called maître d’ and they make you sniff wine corks before they pour miniscule amounts into huge glasses.

My inclination right now is to run away from the weight of the day I have just had by picking up the entire bottle or red wine that’s standing in front of me on the table and downing it in one big gulp – but I am lady and I will maintain some sort of decorum.

And so I gingerly pick up the huge bubble-with-a-stem in front of me and take a small sip of the expensive red liquid inside.

“That’s a really great Cabernet,” Chris says. He’s fondling the glass in front of him that contains a dram of similarly expensive whisky – because in such places, you don’t call them ‘tots’. You call them ‘drams’.

“Yea, but I just want to go home and curl up,” I say, as our waiter brings us two menus. Mine has no prices. “Must be a typo,” I look up at Chris. “I can’t see how much anything costs.”

He laughs. “Here, they don’t give ladies the menus with the prices. They make it the man’s affair to pay.”

“Well, they need to know that I am an MD and you are jobless,” and we laugh for a few seconds… until the fact of my new circumstance hits me. Me. In charge. Of everyone. What if I fail and collapse the entire business? Oh, the ignominy! And how will I be able to handle the public scrutiny? The examination? And you know how those journalists like to treat females at the top – as if we all got there on our backs and have no idea what we are doing.

“You’re chewing your lip like it’s your dinner, Liz,” Chris interrupts me. “You only do that when you are distressed and in deep thought.”

WORRIED

“Oh!” I say, removing my lower lip from between my teeth. I frustratedly swirl the dot of liquid in my glass, wondering if it would be kosher for me to just… fill the glass up. When Chris picks up the bottle and tops me up, I feel like he has read my mind.

“There,” he says. “I know you like your wine in large amounts.” We laugh again.”

“I’m glad you’ll be around for a month more to show me the ropes,” I sigh. “I will appreciate your guidance.”

“Oh, come on, Liz, you can do this. I mean, you’ve literally been the spokesperson for the company over the past few years. You know how everything works. Now all you have to do is sit back and approve this and sign that and order all your numerous minions around.”

“Yea… except that now that I have taken up your position, I don’t have a minion in charge of marketing. And what am I going to do about that PA of yours, Ciru? Do I get to fire her? I mean, she hates me enough already – I can imagine her trying to sabotage me now. And then there’s the new campaigns I had ordered from Fatma and them – I need to finish at least those before I can move on to larger things,”

“Hey,” Chris interrupts my rant, putting his warm hand over mine on the table and caressing it softly with his thumb. “Let’s not talk about work tonight, ok? Let’s sit here and decompress and focus on everything but work.”

“Ok…” I say. Then, after a long silence, “So what do you want to talk about?”

Chris narrows his eyes and looks at me, then he bursts out laughing. “This job is going to turn you into a workaholic isn’t it?” I smile. “As the official house husband in the family, it is my job to take your mind off work when you come home in the evening,” he continues. “I promise to always welcome you with a big glass of wine and a hot meal.”

I laugh at his joke and take another large sip as our waiter delivers our first course – soup and a few pastries. I dip my head to see eat a little bit and as I look up, I notice a couple walk through the door. I peer at them as they edge closer and – oh my, I cannot believe who has just walked through the door!