The Most Awkward Lunch Possible

“Thanks for the food.”

We turned our attention back to lunch. As she popped the plastic container holding her yakisoba bun I opened up my bento, chopsticks at the ready.

“What are you eating?” she asked, before biting down on her sandwich.

“Oh just some stuff, I guess. Tamagoyaki, leftover rice, lightly seasoned edamame, and uh, sautéed cherry tomatoes. Nothing too complicated, y’know? I was feeling kind of groggy this morning, so…” I shrugged.

“You made that yourself?”

“Well, mostly. The rice was leftover from yesterday, though I did add furikake to season it. And I didn’t really “make” the edamame either. I just topped it with salt, black pepper, and a bit of soy sauce. I did make the tamagoyaki, but that’s pretty easy. It’s just a rolled up omelet. And sautéing anything takes like, no time at all. Honestly I only did the tomatoes since I already had the stove going for the eggs.”

I grinned, slightly embarrassed. “I know it looks like a lot of egg right now, but I was going to have some of it for breakfast. It’s just, I was sloppy and ran out of time so… instead I toasted some bread in the pan and had that. Which was fine since I’m not a big breakfast person anyway.”

As I talked, she chewed absentmindedly.

“I’m not much of a chef, personally,” she said, rattling her store-bought container.

“Ah, well, I didn’t really do that mu—“

“Compliment. That was a compliment.”

“Okay, in fairness to me that one was pretty indirect.”

“Yeah?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” I gave a sharp nod. “You didn’t say anything about me, you just put yourself down.”

“…Oh.” Her expression faltered.

“Besides, you haven’t even tasted it so you don’t know if it’s actually good,” I huffed. 

We lingered briefly in the moment. 

“So, um, do you want some?” I tapped at the tamagoyaki with my chopsticks.

“Uh.” She actually seemed a little taken aback. “Okay.” She blushed. “Still, you don’t need to sell yourself short either,” she said, centering herself. 

“Should I…?” She looked down at her hands, one holding the sandwich, the other its now empty receptacle. “I’ll just… put this down.” Moving the plastic box onto the bench, her right hand was now free.

Leaf-born shadows from the branches above us snaked their way across her arm as she brought it closer to mine. I handed her the chopsticks. She grabbed them full-fisted in her palm, then stared for a second.

“I’m left handed.” She grimaced.

“Wait, but then why would you…?” I looked to her left hand, still holding the sandwich; fingers stained by sauce from the yakisoba noodles within.

“Look. Just be glad I didn’t ask you to feed me all right.” Evi waggled the chopsticks in the air. “That was my first idea. This was the backup plan.”

She averted her eyes. “We only met yet yesterday. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Well, you could have put the sandwich back in the box and then put them both dow—“

“I don’t have napkins and there’s still sauce on—“

“I have napkins.” I reached down and pulled some out from my bag.

“…”

“…”

“It’s okay. I can do this. Just move the bento closer,” she said, putting on a serious expression. Sandwich in her good hand. Chopsticks in her off hand. Determination in her eyes.

I burst out laughing.

“Oh come on.” She stifled a snicker. “What’s so funny?” Her composure fell away as laughter pushed past the floodgates. Still gripping the chopsticks in her palm, she mimed a stabbing motion at me. “This could totally work.”

“I guess if you wanted to poke my eyes out, yeah, that might work. But I do wear glasses, so even then maybe not,” I chuckled. “I’m glad we have more in common than I thought.”

“You know, I’m not really sure how to take that,” she smirked.

“In a positive way, please,” I suggested, mimicking her tone. “It’s a compliment.”

“Sure thing.” She performed a mock salute with her sandwich hand.

I straightened back up.

“Although, to clarify, I’m not left-handed. When I was saying that we had stuff in common, I was talking about like,” I could see her slumping over. “Okay, yeah, no, sorry, you already get it. Got it. Good.”

“I do think I could make this work though.” She stabbed the air once more.

“They’re slices of a rolled omelet. If you stab them like that they’re going to fall apart.” I reached my hand out past the shade, palm open. “You can give me the chopsticks. I, uh… I’ll feed it to you.” Maintaining eye contact was a nearly impossible struggle, but I was doing it.

“…You can just hand me a napkin.”

“Nope. You brought up the idea, so now we’re making it happen.” My voice trembled slightly as I worked to uphold my meager false confidence.

“Evi. You were going to ask me to, but then you didn’t because you were concerned about how I would feel. And then I laughed at you. And. Um,” I glanced to the side, “If you’re worried about me feeling awkward, well…” I forced my eyes to meet hers, “I’m super awkward. Pretty much all the time. At least this time it’ll be intentional.” I gave her my most determined look. I’m not fully sure what that was exactly, but it seemed to have worked.

“…Okay.” She placed the chopsticks into my hand.

“Thank you.” I nodded as I brought my bento box forward and picked up a chunk of tamagoyaki. Admittedly her unbroken eye contact made things a little weird, but I was able to keep steady enough despite the immediate waves of regret that were rolling over me.

Evi took a bite.

“Oh.” She blinked. “Oh wow. This is really good actually.”

“You sound surprised…”

“No, I mean this is really good.” Her eyes went wide. “You can really taste the egg!”

“Yeah… it is... mostly egg, so…”

“No. Um. I’m not explaining it very well, but there’s a savory-ness to the egg that compliments the sweetness without… Um.”

“Overpowering?”

“Thank you. Yes. That’s it.” She looked over at her sandwich. “I was going to offer you some of my yakisoba but now it kind of feels like that’s not an even trade.”

“I sincerely cannot tell whether or not you’re being serious right now.”

“I am sincerely serious right now. Seriously sincerely serious.”

“That does not help.”

I squinted at her.

She smiled innocently.

“But seriously, I do think that tasted really good. And I am also offering you some of my yakisoba bun,” she said, giving it a gentle shake.

“If you’re offering…” I grabbed a napkin and held my hand out.

“Nope. You know the rules now. We have to make this as awkward as possible.” She pushed the sandwich forward. “Just take a bit off the end. I don’t mind.” Her grin stretched wide across what was now a very smug face.

“Uh. Okay. Um. Just. Uh,” I stammered both in speech and action, my body lurching forward and back as I attempted to force myself to complete the transaction. Constantly repositioning in a desperate hope to find an avenue of approach that still felt at least mildly respectable. The deliberations went on longer than they probably should have.

“Alright, fine you don’t have to—“ Evi relented.

“No, no, I mean… I made you do it. So, I’ll do it. Yeah. I. Uh. Yeah. It’s only fair.” It was now or never. I took the plunge and leaned forward to bite the sandwich, careful not to nip her fingers.

Yakisoba was never a favorite of mine, but it was always a reliable standby. Sweet and tangy with just enough textural variety provided via soft bread, stretchy noodles, and the crunch of pickled ginger.

“It’s pretty good. Thanks.”

“Aunt Nakamu— I mean, Sensei and I stopped by a convenience store before school.”

“Ah.” I dabbed at my mouth with the napkin. “Are you two close?” I asked; my curiosity piqued.

“Yeah. I’m actually living with her right now.”

“Ah.”

I wasn’t really sure what to say. I kind of wanted to ask more about her situation, but it felt rude, somehow. Intrusive, I suppose. We went back to eating our respective lunches, residual sauce slightly altering the taste of my omelet.

“I make my own lunches, so they’re not usually super elaborate. Like, it’s just for me, not anybody important, y’know?” I attempted to fill the silence.

She stared at me, red eyes gleaming in the sunlight.

“In the story of your own life, you should probably be one of the more important characters.” Her sandwich was nearly gone. “Does that make sense?”

“Hmm.”

I grabbed my thermos to take a swig.

“Green tea?” she asked.

“White tea today, actually. Although I did have a quick matcha this morning, and I almost bought some more loose leaf green tea yesterday.”

“You don’t mean the vending machine, right?”

“No, like, that’s why I went into the city yesterday. I found a teashop that I liked over there a few years ago, so every once in a while I stop by to restock and see if they have anything new. Unfortunately, they were already out when I got there. Well, out of the stuff in my current price range, I guess. Or, I mean, out of stuff in my price range that I wanted and didn’t already have. Or—” I considered getting even more specific, but stopped. I tilted the bottle towards her. “Do you want some? The cap doubles as a serving cup.”

“Sure.”

I poured her some tea.

“Uh, sorry, but do you mind if I ask why you went out yesterday? Um, just as something to talk about. No pressure if you don’t want to get into it.”

“Family stuff.” She shrugged. “Not worth talking about. They wanted me to dress nicely for the visit. This is as nice as they deserve.” She waved a hand dismissively over her uniform.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She sipped her tea.

I followed suit, though I had to hold my bottle with both hands.

“Pretty good.” Evi nodded in approval.

“Right? It’s lighter than most other teas, with like, a floral note to it. Refreshing, a bit fruity, not bitter at all. Now I do enjoy my bitter teas as well, but considering your previously stated inclinations towards sweeter drinks I think it makes sense that—“ I noticed the increasing volume of my own voice. I lowered it. “Am I talking too much?”

“You’re good.”

“Thanks. Um. It’s milder, and mellower, but a bit sweet. Is what I meant,” I said, gripping my thermos tighter.

“You’re sweet too.”

“Eh.” I looked down. “Bittersweet, maybe... I just don’t say the bitter parts out loud.”

“That’s better than I’m doing,” she looked up at the sky.

“You’re really nice, Evi.”

“Hah,” she scoffed. “If you knew me better, you wouldn’t think that.”

“…”

“…”

“That was a compliment,” I teased. “Please learn to accept them.”

She bent her head back and laughed.

“I’ve created a monster. A cute, smug, monster.”

“C-cute!?” I almost choked.

“Yeah? You’re cute.” She said it like the most obvious thing in the world.

“Please stop,” I chirped out, blushing harder than I’d ever blushed before. “I physically cannot handle this many compliments in this little time.”

“Kind of figured that out already, but good to know.” She smirked.

“… I want my cup back.”