Is This It

By Stefan Jurewicz

“Can’t you see I’m trying? I don’t even like sushi.”

“Why did you agree to come here, then?”

Julian made an irritated noise, then stared sullenly at his plate. As far as he was concerned, it stared back at him.

Mel wanted to cry. She’d been wanting to come to this restaurant for months, but now that she was actually here it was being ruined by her uncommunicative boyfriend who apparently had never even liked sushi.

“I can’t believe you,” she said.

Julian just shook his head, his eyes never leaving his plate. He had entered a staring contest with his maki and refused to let the jiggly, multicoloured roll win. Mel wished he’d put that much effort into eating the damn things.

“You said you’d keep an open mind.”

“I say a lot of things.”

Where was this attitude coming from? The entire drive downtown Julian had been his usual fun, lively self, laughing his way through telling stories of his dormmates pranking each other, getting caught smoking weed in the stairwells, or getting so drunk they woke up half-naked on someone else’s lawn. But now he was a pouty child being forced to eat his veggies, and Mel did not like playing his mother.

“Oh, suck it up, Julian! Why can’t you do something nice for me for once?”

He lost his game to glare at her.

“I sat through that movie you wanted to watch last night.”

“Oh please, you had your hand down my pants before the opening credits finished.”

He smirked. “You liked it.”

She threw a nigiri at him, which exploded on impact, but said nothing more. She had liked it—especially the part that had come after.

She pushed her highlighted blonde hair back behind her ear and ate the rest of her meal in silence.

Without her prodding, Julian tentatively reached for a roll, eventually popping the whole thing into his mouth in one go, chewing dramatically with bulging cheeks. Try as he might to hide it, Mel knew he liked it.

She raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“Shut up,” said Julian, mouth still overfull.

***

After dinner, Julian wanted to go to a bar down the street.

“Can’t we find a nice cocktail bar instead?”

“What’s wrong with Paddy’s?”

“Nothing… it’s just that it’s our anniversary, and I’d like to go somewhere nice.”

“We just went somewhere nice. Last time I checked, I was in this relationship too. It’s my turn to pick a spot.”

He had a point, but Mel was worried her nice dress might stand out in a funny way at a dive bar. Then again, it couldn’t be any worse than Julian’s studded leather jacket and ripped jeans at the upscale seafood restaurant they’d just come from. She was surprised they’d even let him in.

On the point of it being their anniversary, that was more of an honorary position anyway. The pair had broken up and gotten back together so many times over the years they had lost track of their real anniversary, defaulting to the day of their first date as a placeholder.

As she took a seat in one of the booths, Julian rapped on the table with his knuckles. “Beer or wine?”

She didn’t think Paddy’s was going to have much in the way of wine, so she opted for the former. As she watched Julian cross to the bar, she thought about the movie they’d ‘watched’ the night before, absentmindedly running her hand across her thigh.

She was interrupted by a man nearly bowling her over as he took the seat beside her. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, as well as some other, less savoury scents. He had a salt and pepper beard that looked like it hadn’t been trimmed in weeks and sunken, sallow features that reminded her of a pirate. He couldn’t have been a day under fifty, making him at least twice her age.

“Whass a pretty girl like you doon here?” he slurred.

“Please leave me alone,” she said as politely as possible.

He smiled. “I like that dress.” His hand fell to the place she had just been running hers across her thigh, only with much less tenderness. “Wan me leave you lone at my place?”

She froze, panicked. His hand tightened on her thigh, dragging her dress up ever so slightly.

“I got a nice, fat one,” he whispered in her ear.

Then, in a flash, he was gone. It took Mel a moment to realize what had happened, and by then the man was on the tile, Julian sitting on his chest, his head lolling back and forth with each blow. Two men who, seconds ago, had been playing pool, dropped their cues and pulled her boyfriend off the unconscious drunkard. Blood poured down the man’s face.

Julian threw his shoulder to release their grip, collecting himself. He looked over at Mel angrily and stormed out of the bar.

“Julian!” she called after him, stepping over the man just as he was coming to. The two men helped him up as she pushed open the door to the street.

Julian was just outside, lighting up a cigarette with bloodied knuckles. His eyes burned in tandem with the tip of his Marlboro as he sucked back a lungful of smoke.

“Th-thank y-you,” Mel stammered. Until then, she hadn’t registered how much she’d been shaking.

“Fuck you,” said Julian, turning his gaze straight ahead.

“Wh-what?”

“I said fuck you. I turn my back for one second and you’ve got some fucking creep in your lap.”

Mel couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You think I wanted that?”

He scoffed. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” He stared straight ahead, looking at nothing.

“Look at me, Julian!”

He did, and Mel immediately wished she hadn’t asked him to. The rage in his eyes scared her.

“That creep assaulted me,” she pleaded.

Julian laughed—a hard, hollow thing. “Assaulted you? I didn’t see you doing anything to stop him. I think you liked it. If that was assault, then I’ve got some explaining to do.”

“Julian, I—”

“Go home, Mel.”

Mel started to cry. “Julian…”

“Go home.” He turned his gaze forward again, and Mel knew that was the last thing he was going to say to her.

Doing her best to hold back her sobs, she beckoned for a cab and went home.