A Sense Of Belonging

Unbeknownst to her dining companion, Juliet was not lost in a daydream but rather eavesdropping or was it “kissdropping” on the couple to the left who seemed to be in the midst of a passionate kiss oblivious to the lunchtime throng of fine diners at “Mantua’s, one of Sydney’s finest eatery by the waterfront’ or something like that, according to Sophie, her best friend and social climber.
Juliet never cared for such details. All she wanted in a meal was nothing too complex. ‘Simple and Fresh’ was her motto and NO BROCHOLI-that was the one vegetable she did not care for. Sometimes she wondered whether it was a throwback to her mother’s attempts to force feed her broccoli as a toddler. It still brought out that ‘screwing of the face look’ that her mother labelled the ‘Grinch’ as she spat out the green mushy concoctions that her mother enticed with” Open your mouth dear...vegies are good for you!” Years later, it did occur to her that her mother never ate broccoli either or any other greens for that matter.
Sophie, on the other hand, devoured the stuff. She ate it steamed, fried or raw. In fact, her diet seemed to consist of endless variations of you guessed it- broccoli. Right now she was slowly munching through a stir fry- that had copious amounts of the green stuff with finely julienned carrots, red, green, yellow peppers and slivers of grilled turkey breast.
The arrival of the waiter at her side snapped her back into reality. “Your steak is ready ma'am, will you have it now or later” he intoned. Juliet looked at him as if for the first time and then it happened. Something in her stirred as she looked across at him. Maybe it was his baby blues sparkling like sapphires but it was more the cleft in the middle of his chin that she noticed. IT WAS HIM! She’d recognise it anywhere. It was a detail imprinted in her mind. After all she’d freeze framed it so many times on her DVD player- she could probably sketch it blindfolded. That dimple, a depression in his already...