The goodbye had reached the table before either woman had finished her soup. Vivienne wanted a kiss outside when she left, provided Vera still wanted one then. She could say that plainly. What followed was less tidy: a request that Vera should smile because lunch had pleased her, rather than perform graciousness about the afternoon apart. Vivienne heard herself arranging Vera's expression and stopped. The soup was hot. For once, her opinion required no performance and no correction beyond the one she had already made. She asked what Vera wanted from her at two.
Vera's answer was smaller than a farewell speech and harder to evade. She wanted Vivienne to look at her before looking down the street. She liked the possibility of a kiss, but she objected to becoming the woman who waved beautifully while the interesting one went to a film. Their separate afternoons were acquiring unequal parts, and Vera would not accept hers merely because she could play it well. Her soup was hot too. While it cooled, she wanted to hear about the film itself, something beyond the attractions of seeing it without her.
There was a woman on the poster carrying a cello onto a ferry. That was almost the whole of Vivienne's knowledge. She had passed it yesterday and wondered whether the woman had bought two tickets. It was an absurdly specific curiosity, and it finally gave the film a shape beyond a seat Vera would not occupy. Vivienne acknowledged that she had described that absent companion more thoroughly than what she actually wanted to see. She had already chosen the film. Vera had not failed an audition. And the look Vera wanted at two would not depend on whether a kiss followed.
A cello, Vera observed, deserved at least a window seat. Now she was curious too, though Vivienne need not return with a report: mild uncertainty about ferry fares was something Vera could endure. The soup had cooled enough for her to eat. She intended to begin before departure arrangements consumed the cake as well. But she corrected another assumption. She had not thought herself rejected. What troubled her was how quickly she had begun offering to be easy about everything. She wanted to be invited even when she was occasionally inconvenient.
Vivienne had an answer grounded in something Vera had actually done. Vera had already objected when Vivienne invented an itinerary for her, and Vivienne had stayed for lunch. Agreement was not the price of being present. Then there was the soup, which Vivienne liked, and bread she wanted passed. The ordinary requests made room for a larger one: name something Vera herself wanted to do together. It should not be a test, or an activity chosen on the assumption that Vivienne would excel at it. The invitation was to want something without first arranging its flattering effect.
Vera passed the bread and chose dancing. Somewhere crowded, where no chair had to be cleared away and where a change of song meant finding each other again. She liked that kind of floor. She wanted to go because she wanted to dance, without knowing whether Vivienne would be any good. This was an additional proposal, neither for today nor a replacement for the comedy she still wanted. It was inconvenient only in the sense that it belonged fully to Vera. She had offered a desire that did not require Vivienne to supply the entertainment.
Vivienne said yes to the crowded floor itself. She wanted to see Vera enjoying something she had not provided. Vera could choose the place; Vivienne would choose her clothes and retain the pleasure of objecting to the music. She accepted the bread too, amused by their ability to make another plan while lunch cooled. But she returned to the kiss. She meant it. Their afternoon apart should not become their most impressive shared accomplishment, admired so thoroughly that the actual pleasure of being together disappeared beneath the discussion.
Vera wanted the kiss as well. They could enjoy lunch without spending the soup proving they deserved what both had asked for. She would find music loud enough to withstand Vivienne's complaints. Then she made the future dance more particular. She wanted Vivienne to ask her across the room, to make the walk without covering it with a joke or pretending to have come for another reason. No venue had been chosen, no departure kiss exchanged. There was still soup to finish. But Vera had named what she wanted to see: Vivienne coming towards her because she had decided to. Could she do that?