by Unknown
She was staring right at me.
Chapter 16
When I tripped and stubbed my toe on the lone step leading up to the second tier of crowded tables, I almost threw my notepad down and stormed out of the restaurant crying. My mom always told me being a waitress was a great summer job because, “the customers, usually the men, give good tips, and the hours fly by faster than a day at the beach.” I found these reasons false and misinformed, given that my only big tip of the night had come from a young Chinese woman, and that nothing ticked by slower than time spent sprawled out on the hot sand. I took the job at Frederito’s Pizza in Marina Del Rey hoping it would be a fun, laid back summer job. Unfortunately, I was already eyeing the donut shop across the street for potential employment—and it was still only June.
“There’s avocado on this,” one of the customers said, four hours into my shift.
“You ordered the Mexican pizza, sir. It comes with avocado.”
“But I don’t like the texture.”
“Can’t you just pick it off?”
He tilted his head down, but kept his beady eyes focused on me. “Excuse me?”
I picked up his pizza and forced a lame smile. “I apologize, sir. I'll get this taken care of right away.”
I carried the tray with the perfectly delectable pizza to the back of the restaurant.
“Ma’am, can I get a refill on this?” another customer asked, to my left. She shook a cup of ice real fast and loud.
“Yes, just a moment,” I said.
“Waiter!” yet another customer said, to my right. “My son needs another juice cup!”
I wanted to politely remind the fellow that I was a woman, not a man, but I simply nodded, and kept walking. When I reached the back, I brushed the avocado slices off the pizza into the trash can, but caught the last one in my hand and let it drop into my mouth.
“Sydney, table thirteen,” Wanda, the oldest waitress at the restaurant, said, as she sprinted by me.
“Sure thing!” I shouted back at her, rolling my eyes. “Lucky number thirteen, I'm on it!”
I grabbed the juice cup, the pitcher of iced tea, and the avocado-less pizza, and headed back to the trenches, armed with a big, plucky grin that I hoped would ward off all enemies. My grin was impressive, especially given that it had only been six weeks since Melanie’s death and I was still having my good days and bad. Today had been one of the better ones, partly because the customers’ behavior was diverting my attention to other horrors.
I had tried to have a fun, carefree summer. Lukas did his best keeping me entertained. Darts, Devil Wears Prada, double fudge brownie baking—all were nightly staples in the Canterbury Apartments, unit 106. I didn’t know how I would have survived the first half of the summer without Lukas. He was my adoring light when it got dark, my source of comfort when I had my nightmares. And he never complained, not when I voiced my regret, not when I said things like, “I wish it had been me.” He was too good to be true, and at times I didn't think I deserved him. Last Monday he started a new job as a production assistant on the Food Network show Cupcake Wars—“the next best thing from working for Christopher Nolan!” he pointed out—and I was suddenly more alone than ever, with Lukas rarely home anymore. And with Melanie gone.
And, of course, with Evan across the country.
I missed Evan. I missed his friendship. I missed his calming voice, and the way he would smile at me, and make me think, maybe there's a chance. Even if he didn’t call, didn’t write. I was still thinking about him way too much. When I set the pizza back down for the nagging customer, the sad thought clouded my head: what if Evan stays in New York, and never comes back? I posed it to Lukas at Melanie's funeral, and I still didn't think it seemed out of the question. What if he had decided to transfer to NYU or Columbia? What if he wasn't days away from returning to L.A. but weeks in to starting his new, permanent life on the east coast?
I sighed, and walked over to table thirteen. I cleared my throat. Kept my eyes down on my notepad. “How are we tonight? Could I start you with an appetizer—”
“Syd? Is that you?”
I looked up. Evan was dressed in a blue polo shirt and black jeans. He had chopped his hair short, and had grown a fuller goatee.
“Oh my God!” I said, thrilled to see him, and mortified that the first time he was seeing me after all these weeks was in my lame waitress attire—a dark red vest over a pink collared shirt. “Evan?”
“I didn’t know you worked here.” He jumped out of the booth and gave me a big hug. “How are you?”
“I'm fine, I'm fine. Yeah, I got the job right after the…” I hesitated. “Well, the funeral.”
“Oh.” His enthusiasm shot south, almost immediately. What was wrong with me? Why did I have to go and mention the goddamned funeral? “So what’s good here?” he asked.
“Everything’s good here,” I said, and handed him a menu. I leaned in closer and whispered into his ear, “The two things I’ve tried, anyway.”
“You mean you haven’t had every single dish?” He pointed at the bottom of the menu. “You haven’t tried the garlic cheese sticks?”
I laughed. “Can’t say that I have.”
He smiled, real big and genuine. I was so happy to see that smile, so happy Evan could still radiate the same joy from before everything went to hell. He closed the menu and said, “You know what? You can’t go wrong with pepperoni. Could I get a large?”
“Of course.” I jotted it down, even though it was the easiest order of the evening. “Are you just eating by yourself, or...”
“No. Todd’s with me.”
My heart dropped a little. It didn't surprise me, but it was still disappointing. “I see. So how long have you been back in town?”
“Got back Thursday. I'm still getting settled.”
“Yeah? How was New York?”
“Pretty rough, actually. Some of it was okay, but mostly it was this unlivable mix of my mom trying to take too much care of me, my brother ignoring me, my dad screaming at me all day at work.”
“Oh God,” I said. “Was it really that bad?”
“It kind of was, yeah.” He rubbed his palms together, and brought his gaze down to the table. “Every time I go home I think it’ll make me happy. But it never does. It just makes me want to get back to L.A. as soon as I can.”
I leaned up against his booth, and hoped no one would see me chatting away with someone when I had tons of work to get done. “Do you have a job lined up here yet?”
His eyes opened wide. “Somebody is full of questions, isn’t she? I feel like I’m being interviewed.”
I slapped my notepad against my side, and looked away. “I’m sorry. I’m just…” Interested, is what I wanted to say. “I’m just glad to see you, that's all. It's been awhile.”
“I’m glad to see you, too,” he said, crossing his arms, and staring right into my eyes. “You look great, by the way.”
I tried not to blush. “I do not. I’ve been on the floor all night. I’m sure I’m a mess—”
“You look great,” he repeated. He shot me his famous smile. I smiled right back.
Todd bumped against me. “Excuse me,” he said, and sat down across from Evan. “Hey, you’re that Sydney chick, right? From sociology?”
I uttered a quiet sigh. Way to ruin a tender moment, ass, I wanted to say. “Yes, that’s right. How’d you know my last name was Chick?”
He perused the menu for a moment, then looked back at me, bewildered. “Huh?”
Todd was mildly attractive in that bland, frat boy way. With his short blond crew cut, his brown eyes, his giant forehead, he wasn't by any means ugly, but he looked like fifty other guys at LMU. Not that it mattered; even if he had been the most handsome man on the planet, it wouldn't have changed the fact that Todd was a total dick.
“So I’ve already got your pizza order. Could I start you off with a couple of drinks?” I asked.
“Just water for me, thanks,” Evan said. His ex
pression changed the second Todd arrived. He brought his arms down against the table and gazed out the tiny window behind him. Was he thinking of her?
“I’ll have a Pepsi, thanks,” Todd said.
“Oh, is Coke okay?”
He shook his head, and burned his eyes into my skull. “No. I asked for Pepsi. Make it happen.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
He chuckled, kind of a burr-hur-hur, and said, “I’m just joking with you. Coke is fine.” He looked me up and down. “See, I'm a good boy, Sydney. I didn't order any alcohol.”
I glared at him, and turned around. The tiny restaurant didn't even serve alcohol, but I still wanted to find an empty beer bottle and smash it over Todd's head.
As I walked to the back to get their drinks, I tossed the question around my mind for the hundredth time: Why the hell was Evan roommates with that jerk? And now the two were sharing some house together, with Zach, Todd’s twin-like equivalent, and who knows how many others. Even if Evan ever asked me back to his place, would I want to go?
I poured their drinks and headed back to the ground floor. I had to remember to look the part of a waitress, to keep my smiley face on at all times. It had been so difficult to maintain, but not anymore. Not with Evan around.
I served them their pizza fifteen minutes later, and before I had a chance to say another word to Evan, he was already asking for the check. I was taking another order when they got up from their booth and headed toward the front of the restaurant. I watched him disappear from my life, yet again.
“So I’ll have the sausage and onion pizza, with extra sausage,” my latest customer said, “and when I say extra sausage, I don’t just mean one extra little morsel, I’m talking, like, a mountain of—”
“Could you excuse me for a moment?” I asked, quickly. “I’ll be right back.” I was probably going to get fired, but I couldn't let him leave that easily.
I opened the door and sped out to the parking lot. Glanced to my left and right. I didn’t see him.
“Syd?” Evan said. I spun around. Evan stepped past the door right behind me. “What are you doing out here?”
“Oh, hey!” I said. “I thought you already left.”
“No, Todd went down the street to get the car. I just used the bathroom.” He approached me, waited for me to say something. When I just stood there, he said, “What's wrong? Did I leave you a bad tip?”
I laughed, nervously. “No, no, nothing like that—”
“Did I forget something?” He patted his back pocket.
“No. It's just... I didn’t get a chance to say good-bye.”
He looked at me, confused, but I sensed a hint of excitement.
Todd pulled up, and rolled the passenger window down. “Evan, let's go!” he shouted.
“I’m sorry,” Evan said to me. “We’re in a hurry to get to this party…”
A party? All of the color in my face flushed away with the mere mention of the word. “Oh, sure thing. I should be getting back, anyway.”
I turned toward the restaurant, but Evan tapped my arm, and pulled me toward him. “No, you don’t understand. I’m dropping Todd off at the party. I’m not going.”
I glanced through the open window of the car. Todd was sliding himself over the center console, to the passenger seat. “You’re not going?” I asked. “Why not?”
He crossed his arms and shivered, even though it was eighty degrees outside. “I haven’t been in much of a party mood ever since…” He didn’t have to finish the sentence. “I’m just gonna go home, put on a movie or something.”
“Oh. Well, that’s cool.” I didn’t know how to leave the conversation, so I just hugged him. “It was nice to see you.”
He didn’t back away, didn't flinch from my touch. He let me hug him. I smelled his minty breath, his vanilla cologne—the same from that elevator dream—and rested my head against his chest.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you,” he said. “When I was gone, I mean. I know I should’ve. I just needed to be alone for a while.”
“Evan, let’s go!” Todd shouted. He honked the horn. “Am I supposed to just sit here all night?”
I brought my arms down, and stepped back. “No, I understand.” I looked back at the restaurant; I was surprised my boss hadn’t stomped outside to promptly fire my ass. “I need to get back.”
“Okay,” he said.
I walked at a slow pace to the front door, just in case Evan had something more to say to me. My hand was about to touch the knob, when he finally did.
“Sydney?”
“Yeah?” I turned around.
“Would you want to get coffee with me sometime? You know, to meet up.” He laughed, oddly, then looked down at the ground. “To catch up. Just as friends, I mean.”
He didn’t need to dig it into my head, that it would just be friendly coffee, not let’s-order-hot-mochas-and-go-have-sweaty-sex kind of coffee. I smiled, anyway. “Of course. I’d love to.”
“Great. Are you free next week?”
I shrugged. “I’m off tomorrow.” I wanted to slap myself, as soon as I closed my mouth. Could I have sounded more desperate?
But then he said, “Tomorrow’s perfect. Can I call you in the morning?”
My mouth hung open. “Uhh, yeah.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.” He jumped into the driver’s seat of his Toyota 4Runner and sped out of the parking lot.
I stood there for a moment. Smiled all giddy at nothing and no one.
Then I hurried back into the restaurant, to the same table from before. To my amazement, the customer didn’t complain, but instead returned to his rant about extra sausage on his pizza like I had never left.
I had two more hours at Frederito's. Two more long, exhausting hours.
Couldn’t it be Sunday already?
Chapter 17
“Lukas, are you home?” I asked, when I closed the apartment door. It was a few minutes past midnight.
“In here,” he said. The apartment was pitch black, except for the light reflected off the flickering TV. Lukas was sprawled out on the living room sofa, a blanket covering everything but his face. “Where have you been? I didn’t know you worked this late.”
“Yeah, only on Saturdays. What are you doing?”
“Oh... just having a little Meryl Streep film festival.”
“What? Without me?” I dropped my jaw and put up my fists, like I wanted to punch him in both the face and the groin.
He gave me a pained look and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry. I couldn't help myself.”
I smiled, and dropped my hands to my sides. “Only kidding. Which one are you watching?”
“It's called Postcards from the Edge. She plays this actress who moves in her with drunk mom. It’s pretty funny.”
My excitement level diminished. “Oh, a comedy about alcoholism,” I said, and turned toward my bedroom. “I think I might have to pass on that one.” I dropped my purse on my dresser and returned to Lukas. He yawned, grabbed the remote, and put the movie on pause.
“We don’t have to watch it. You want me to just turn on regular TV?”
“No, you can keep it on. I don’t care.” I sat down on the armrest. He was still sprawled out, and taking up the entire sofa. “So you’ve been doing this all night?”
“Since, like, 4:30. I started with Death Becomes Her, then Marvin's Room. Then It’s Complicated, which I think is totally underrated.”
“That's quite the line-up. Doesn't she get drunk in all of these movies?”
Lukas laughed. “No.” He paused. “Well, maybe.” He pressed PLAY on the remote, and the latest film continued. “Here, I’m sorry. Did you want a seat?” He finally brought his feet down, and rested them on the table. When I dropped down to the left side of the leather sofa, he even let me share the blanket with him.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Want some popcorn?”
He grabbed a bowl from the floor. The unbuttered popcorn was cold
and stale, but I was starving, and ate it anyway.
Meryl encompassed the entire frame on the TV. She was singing, “You Don’t Know Me.” Lukas shook his head, and said, “Can you believe it took Mamma Mia to show the world she could sing?” He dug his hand into the popcorn and shoveled some into his mouth. “Such a shame.”
I laughed. I liked Meryl, but Lukas really liked Meryl. “So this is the fourth movie of hers you've watched in a row?”
“Yeah. The P.A. job's been kicking my ass, I just needed to relax for a bit.”
I scooted closer to him. “Trust me, I know the feeling.”
“I thought about maybe going to WeHo, hitting up some of the bars, but it’s so lame to do it by yourself.” He let out an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I’ll just stay single forever.”
“You’re not gonna be single forever, Lukas. Come on. What about that redheaded guy?”
“Who, Robert?”
“Yeah. He's so cute!”
He chuckled, and slunk down in the sofa. Neither of us was watching the movie anymore. “I texted him. Twice. He never got back to me.”
“Well, maybe they didn't go through. Try it again. Or better yet, why don't you call him?”
“They went through, okay? Let's face it. He’s not interested.” He buried his hand in the bowl and shoved as much of the popcorn into his mouth as he could fit. After he swallowed, he said, “You know, he’s not really my type, anyway. So it’s fine.”
“He might message you back. Maybe he's just slow.”
Lukas crossed his arms. “It’s so sad. I’m gonna graduate from college having never even kissed a boy, let alone slept with one.”
I grabbed the remote from the table and turned the movie to MUTE. I put my arm around his neck. “Lukas. Listen to me. I’m not gonna let that happen.”
“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it? It’s not like you’d ever go to the bars with me. They serve drinks! With alcohol!”
I stared at him. The hopeful smile on my face transformed into a disappointed grimace.