Table For Four

Here she came.
She didn't look great, actually. She'd put on weight. She looked tired and her face was puffy.
He was relieved. He didn't want to find himself confused about his feelings.

'Hi,' she breathed, as she sat down out of breath. 'Sorry I'm late.'

'What do you want?' He sat back away from his coffee cup. He was irritated. He didn't want to be here.
'I'll just have a water.'
That wasn't what he meant but he ordered it anyway. She was saying something about giving up caffeine, but he really didn't give a shit. 'You wanted to talk?'
'How are you and - '
'Fine. We're fine. It's all great. She's great.' He leant back in and put his elbows on the table. 'Look. I haven't got a lot of time.'
Why was she looking at him like that? So... What was it? Contemptuous? No. Sneery? A little victorious perhaps.
She thanked the waiter for the glass of water and began to wring her hands.
God, he hated the hand-wringing. He'd always hated the hand-wringing. He turned his head sideways and pulled aggressively at his earlobe. She was a pathetic mess. He knew he ought to feel guilty but she made him feel trapped. 'Mi - what is it you want?'
'Been a long time,' she smiled.
'Yep. What is it? Four months?' he answered. Get to the point!, the voice inside him growled.
'Five months and twelve days.'
'What is this? A fucking Sinéad O'Connor song?!' Always the picky accuracy! The smug smile whenever she knew better than he did. Better than he did about what? Nothing important. What is it with her? Who fucking cares how many days since he moved out. It should have been longer. He should have left years before he did. Two and a half years! he wanted to yell. In my head I left you two and a half years ago! Why was he here? He couldn't be her agony aunt anymore. She'd have to find someone else. He'd rather rip out his own toenails than listen to her pathetic watery voice whining on about how hard her life had been. 'I shouldn't have come. I only came because Abbie said I should.' He stood up and slid his car keys across the table towards himself.
But she'd been talking. What was she saying?
' "Twins"?' He stared at her stomach. It was massive he realised now.
'Six months.'
'They're not mine!' He told her.
'Yes. They are.'
'I'm not having children with you! He perched sideways on the chair, his body turned into the room. 'I ... I ... I ... I can't stand you. I hate you. No. No. I won't do this.' He stood up again.
He found money in pocket. Enough to fill his fist. He slapped it on the table.

'Bitch. Bloody bitch.'

He walked out.