Down Easy With Dessert

A serving of the chocolate lava pie with vanilla ice cream would be necessary if I were going to go through with this. He always made me feel so inadequate with his high achieving M.B.A., his 653 hours of available sick leave and his perfect dental records. I feel a little disappointing, but this is the perfect opportunity for me to move on.
“Are you stressing about something, Jacie?” He asked, lowering his fork to the starched, white tablecloth. I picked Café Balabans for this occasion because it is his most favorite place to eat in the West End. It has always seemed a little pretentious to me; the Pasta Mauri Mauri and all. I prefer my ground beef cooked. But this was a regular haunt of his boss, and Preston looked forward to the moments we would run into him.
“Why would I be stressing?” I stuffed a piece of chocolate lava pie so big into my mouth that a little drip of chocolate oozed from the left corner, and I had to swipe it with my tongue.
“You know I hate it when you overeat”, he began, “I’m beginning to think you’re doing it to spite me.” It’s like him to think that it’s all about him.
“Actually,” I started.
“Ah, you are stressing.”
“I’ve been offered a job at a university. It’s an associate professorship; tenure track.” I explained.
“And what’s your excuse for not taking this one?”
“Actually, I will take it.” I said.
“Oh, then they must offer snacks.” He smiled a little at his own quip, and I thought, you jackass.
My weight was not an issue in the beginning, but he saw me as one of his projects. It was his intention to have me in the gym five days a week. First, he said I was being passive aggressive, then finally just down right stubborn when I’d called to say I had to meet with some collogues or students after work. Then on the days when I simply went straight home to work on my book, he told me I was just being plain lazy.
“The position is in Boston.” I loaded another scoop of chocolate and made room in my mouth for the ice cream. “I’ve already had my things moved from the apartment”, I told him.
“What are you talking about?” He was taken aback.
“While you were at work today, I got all of my stuff. I’m not coming home with you Preston.” I stuck my finger in the chocolate on the plate and licked it slowly.
“And you were going to tell me when?” I could hear the crescendo in his voice. His nose was flaring just as his boss walked into the restaurant with his wife. Now I knew he would not make a scene.
“After dessert.”