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I hadn’t smoked “grass” (that’s what they’d called it in the country back then) since high school, but I was willing to give it a try, thinking that if Ian and I could just get over the sex hump, we could be closer.
When I got home that night, I tossed the little clear bag of neon green grass onto the kitchen table where Ian was sitting and grading a stack of term papers, and told him what Krista’s boyfriend had said.
“Why did he say that?” Ian asked. (Somehow I didn’t think he’d be smart enough to pick up on why Manuel would make such a comment.)
“Just as a joke. He didn’t mean anything by it,” I said, knowing he really meant to ask if I’d told Krista about our bedroom misadventures, which I had.
Ian looked back at his papers.
“So do you want to smoke it tonight?” I asked. Ian had smoked marijuana through college and I knew he still smoked with some of his intellectual weedhead guy friends sometimes.
“Let’s wait until tomorrow. For your birthday. We can smoke it then,” he said. “I have to get through these papers. Grades are due online in the morning.”
“OK,” I said.
Ian stayed up all night grading papers and fell asleep on the couch.
In the morning, he came into the bedroom and kissed me on the back of my neck.
“Good morning, birthday girl,” he whispered.
“Good morning.” I turned around to him and smiled, still half asleep.
“I’m going to the office for a little while. I was thinking, do you want to meet for lunch later? Start off the birthday celebration at our spot?”
“Sure.”
“Great. I’ll see you there at 2:00 PM,” he said. “And we can smoke your Viagra-laced weed tonight.”
I laughed and rolled back over to catch my last few minutes of sleep. I’d taken the day off, but I had scheduled an early spa treatment.
I sat in the back booth at Fado for an hour waiting for Ian. Every time I thought to call him, I decided to give him a little more time. Furthermore, Shane kept bringing me free beers and even had a few sips himself in honor of my birthday. Got to love Irish men. They never miss a reason to celebrate.
Shane and I toasted a few times before I realized that two hours had gone by, when Ian finally called.
“Get your ass over here,” I said into the phone. “I’m starving. . . and drunk. Where are you?”
“Um . . . just . . . I’m still in the office,” Ian said in a low voice.
“Fuck! So you’re standing me up on my birthday?”
Shane widened his mouth and rolled his eyes in mock disdain at my announcement.
“You’d better get over here, bro. Rachel is good and drunk!” Shane hollered over my shoulder into the phone.
We laughed, but there was silence from Ian’s end. I suspected it was because he was with a student.
“I’m sorry, I can’t make it,” he whispered, lower this time.
“Oh,” I said.
“How about later? Can we meet for dinner? I can make reservations at Bacchanalia.”
“Bacchanalia for dinner on my birthday,” I repeated, loudly enough so Shane could hear and he gave a thumbs-up. “Shane approves. What time?”
“Let’s say eight,” Ian said.
“Cool. I’ll be there and not square,” I joked.
