Episode 14: A Spat Over Mexican Dinner — 5,000 Core English Words

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Chapter fourteen. The first real argument.

Every couple has one. Last night, Ryan promised to call Emma at nine. He did not call, and he did not send a message. Now it is the next evening, and he is standing at her door.

Listen to how two people argue without being nasty, how one of them says sorry, and how they make peace over dinner at a Mexican restaurant.

Ryan: Hi. Can I come in?

Emma: I don't know. Can you?

Ryan: You're mad at me.

Emma: I'm not mad. I'm hurt. Those are different things.

Ryan: Emma, I'm so sorry about last night. Let me tell you what happened.

Emma: You said you would call at nine. I waited until midnight. I sat alone on the sofa, like a silly teenager, with the phone in my hand.

Ryan: I know. I should have called. There's no excuse.

Emma: Then give me the reason, at least.

Ryan: The client dinner ran late. He's a specialist in printing, the head of a manufacturing company, and his status made me nervous. He wanted to talk for hours about a new building he's going to construct. Then I was driving home through the tunnel, and my phone had no signal. When I got home, it was one o'clock, and I thought you were asleep.

Emma: One message, Ryan. "I'm running late." Four words. It takes ten seconds. You type quickly.

Ryan: You're right. That's true. I could have sent it prior to the dinner. I didn't think.

Emma: It's not really about the call. It's what the call means. When you say you'll do something and you don't, I start to worry. First I was worried that something had happened to you. Then I felt angry. Then I just felt lonely. There was a kind of desperation in it, and a fear I can't explain.

Ryan: I never wanted you to feel that.

Emma: I had this knot in my stomach all night. I imagined an accident. I nearly called your brother. I had tears on my face, and I hate to cry.

Ryan: I didn't know it was that bad. Honestly, I thought you might be a little impatient with me. I didn't think you'd be scared. I never meant to offend you.

Emma: Don't say I exaggerate.

Ryan: I'm not saying that. I'm saying I was wrong. Completely.

Emma: My father used to do this. He'd say, "I'll be there on Saturday," and then he wasn't. I was aged seven or eight. I'd sit by the window with my coat on.

Ryan: Emma. I didn't know that.

Emma: I don't tell people. It's a strange thing to feel shame about, but I do. So when the phone doesn't ring, I'm not a grown woman any more. I'm that girl by the window.

Ryan: Come here. I'm not him. I'll never be him.

Emma: I know you're not. That's why I was so furious. Because I trust you.

Ryan: Can I say something aloud, so we both hear it?

Emma: Go on.

Ryan: I was wrong. This is a genuine apology, and I hope you can forgive me. I didn't mean to hurt you, and it won't happen again. If I'm going to be late, even five minutes, I'll tell you. That's a promise.

Emma: Thank you. That's all I wanted to hear.

Ryan: And I'm grateful that you told me about your dad. It takes courage.

Emma: I'm sorry too. I didn't answer your messages all day. I wanted you to feel it. That was childish.

Ryan: A little. But I deserved it.

Emma: You did. Okay. I'm glad we talked. I don't like to hide things and let them explode later.

Ryan: Me neither. Are we okay?

Emma: We're okay. My mood is still a bit mixed, but we're okay.

Ryan: Then let me make it up to you. Have you eaten?

Emma: No. I had a sad sandwich for lunch and nothing since.

Ryan: There's a Mexican place nearby. It's a classic. The owner is a friend of Simon's. Let me take you to dinner.

Emma: Mexican food. You know my soul, Ryan Johnson. Let me get my shoes.

Waiter: Good evening. Welcome. Two tonight? Follow me. Here are some chips and salsa to start. The red one is mild, and the green one will set off an alarm.

Emma: I'll take the alarm.

Waiter: Can I get you something to drink?

Ryan: Two lemonades, please. And I think we already know what we want.

Waiter: Go ahead.

Emma: I'd like the fish tacos, please. Can I get those with no onions?

Waiter: No onions. Corn or flour tortillas?

Emma: Corn, please. And a side of rice and beans.

Ryan: I'll have the chicken burrito. Is it very spicy?

Waiter: It's medium. I can make it mild if you like.

Ryan: Medium is fine. And could we get some extra napkins?

Waiter: Sure thing. I'll be right back with those, and I'll fill your water glasses.

Emma: This place is full of life and animation. Look at the roof. Somebody painted the whole thing by hand.

Ryan: The owner's brother. He's a builder during the week, and a photographer on weekends. His hobby is taking pictures of old kitchens.

Emma: That's the most specific hobby I've ever heard of.

Ryan: Simon knows everything about everybody. There's a rumour that the governor eats here on Tuesdays.

Emma: I don't care about the governor. I care about tacos.

Waiter: Here we go. Fish tacos, no onions, and one chicken burrito. Careful, the plates are hot. Enjoy.

Emma: Oh, this is so good. I can feel my anger going down with every bite.

Ryan: Then I'll order ten more.

Emma: You laugh, but I'm serious. Food is comfort. It's almost spiritual.

Ryan: Can I tell you what I learned today? Hopefully without sounding like an intellectual.

Emma: There is no danger of that. Tell me.

Ryan: A phone call is not about information. It's about showing up. I was socially polite to a client for four hours, and I forgot the one person who matters.

Emma: That's the moral of the story. I'm fond of it.

Ryan: I relate everything to work, and to people associated with work. That has to change.

Emma: Not everything. Just take one step toward me when it matters. You don't have to jump every time I call. Just don't disappear.

Ryan: I won't. No more silent zones. You inspire me to do better, and that's all the motivation I need. And you, don't be afraid to tell me when something is wrong. Don't let it discourage you if I'm slow.

Emma: Deal. You know, sometimes a fight is good. It's tiring, but now I know you better.

Ryan: Similarly, I know you better. You're strong, you have a sense of humor even when you're mad, and you eat much faster than me.

Emma: That last one is largely your fault. You talk too much. Shake my hand. Peace?

Ryan: Peace. Hey, is that a babysitter with five kids over there? She looks desperate. The smallest one is only the height of her waist.

Emma: That's a teacher with her own children, Ryan. I know the look. It's the equivalent of a medal.

That is the end of chapter fourteen. There was an argument, an honest apology, and a very good plate of tacos.

Keep these with you: "I should have called." "I didn't mean to hurt you." "It won't happen again." "Let me make it up to you." "Are we okay?"

In the next chapter, Ryan has a secret in his pocket, and a pot of water on the stove.

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