Ten Years Later

by Lisa Marie Latino

  I waved him off, placing the photograph back on top of the heap. “Ehhh, it’s just a really good Photoshop job, that’s all.”

  “Well, can they please Photoshop me to look like that?” Tommy laughed, pointing to his yellow polo shirt and khakis.

  Right on cue, Dante walked in. He glanced in our direction, and without even bothering to say hello, walked towards the kitchen.

  “He has the right idea,” Tommy remarked. “Where can I get some food?”

  “Follow me.” I took Tommy to the kitchen, where I saw Dante and Katie having an animated discussion. When they noticed us, they stopped talking. Katie quickly put a smile on her face, while Dante looked visibly stressed.

  “Sorry to interrupt, guys. Tommy wants to try something before the masses gobble it all up. Katie, what do you have?”

  “I’ll bring Tommy out front, and he can have anything he wants!” Katie replied brightly. She wiped her hand on her apron and extended it to Tommy. “Katie Lansford, nice to meet you. Thank you so much for everything.”

  “I can have anything, huh?” Tommy joked. “It’s my pleasure! The place is great, and I’m happy to help.” Tommy shook her hand, then turned to Dante and gave him a playful tap on the shoulder. “How are you doing, Dante? Ready for today?”

  Dante cleared his throat. “Yes, I am, looking forward to it!”

  “Let me get some grub and then we’ll talk business. Katie, let’s go, darling.”

  Katie giggled as she led Tommy to the storefront. Dante and I hung back, standing there in uneasy silence. I figured I would break the ice. “So how have you been? I haven’t seen you since—”

  “I think I’m going to grab something to eat too. I have a big day,” Dante interrupted. “Excuse me.”

  I felt a pang of anxiety run through me as I watched him exit. What was that all about? Was he still upset about Stacy? His professional trajectory was on the up-and-up. He had nothing to feel bad about, especially being dumped by some average-looking, college dropout. He should trade places with me for a day. The kid wouldn’t last an hour in my shoes!

  I went back out front and saw a group of people already form a line. Beyond them, I saw Mom hold court with a group of silver-haired people, animatedly explaining her work. I decided to see what she had going on.

  “My client originally wanted bright red walls, but I felt this shade added a little bit of warmth to the cozy atmosphere she wanted her customers to enjoy,” I heard her explain.

  “Hi Mom,” I interrupted.

  “Hi, baby!” she greeted. She took my hand and brought me to her group. “This is my daughter, Carla. She helped my client do the marketing and promotions for today’s event. She did a marvelous job!”

  I almost choked on my saliva. I knew she was using me to show off to her customers, but the compliment actually felt genuine. It was not too often I pleased her, and if I did, she hardly ever showed it.

  “This is your daughter, Nancy?” one of the men said. “You two could pass for sisters!”

  Mom beamed. “Thank you!”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said sweetly, shaking everyone’s hand.

  “Now let me bring you to the seating area,” Mom smiled, nudging me with her eyes to scram. As they walked towards the back, she stayed behind to whisper in my ear: “Put on more blush on; you look pale. Is it your time of the month?” Before I could answer, she darted away to catch up with her group.

  So much for being in her good graces. As I rummaged through my purse to locate my makeup bag, I noticed that Katie’s Kakes had gotten significantly louder. Nearly every seat was taken, and the line was out the door. Katie’s servers, all carried over from the Kettle Black regime, ran frantically behind the counter to keep up with the demand. Katie alternated between the kitchen and greeting customers at the door. She was in her glory.

  I made my way to the bathroom, passing by Dante and Tommy, who were leaning up against the wall, each nursing a coffee. Tommy nodded in my direction, but Dante ignored me. His insolence continued to make me jittery.

  The bathroom’s warm décor mirrored the shop, except the lighting was stronger, which was much appreciated in my apparent makeup emergency. I located my makeup bag and took out my Mac blush. I studied my reflection. “What is she talking about?” I asked aloud. “My blush is fine.” But just in case, I quickly swept another layer to my rosy cheeks. I heard the door creak open, and saw the reflection of a large woman waddle in. “Hello,” a very pained-looking Andrea grunted. She was now almost eight months pregnant, and her stomach was stretched to non-human proportions. This was a girl who hated to leave her house whenever she had her period; the fact that she was fat, hormonal and stressed about her marital situation made her already-fiery personality all the more explosive.

  “You look happy,” I wryly observed.

  “These babies think my bladder is a fucking trampoline,” she complained as she shuffled past me. “I have to pee every five minutes!” She slammed the bathroom door shut.

  “I’ll wait for you.”

  “You are going to be waiting a while!” Andrea shouted.

  “It’s fine.” As uncomfortable as Andrea looked on the outside, was how I felt on the inside. I hadn’t figured out where I fit into today’s event equation, and Dante’s behavior only made it more confusing.

  Nearly ten minutes later, Andrea emerged from the bathroom. “This is terrible,” Andrea scowled, rubbing her lower back. She studied her reflection in the mirror as she washed her hands. Despite her condition, she still looked dazzling. She had on a long, loose leopard print maternity dress and matching gold jewelry.

  “You don’t look as bad as you probably feel,” I complimented.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled as she dried her hands. She looked at me and scrunched up her face. “Why do you have all that blush on? You look like a clown!”

  “Are you kidding me? If it’s not too little, it’s too much. You people are going to give me a complex!

  ■ ■ ■

  An hour later, the Mayor of Honey Crest, Dr. Victor Colombo, came by for the ribbon cutting ceremony. The entire café (including my mother and her group) filed outside the main entrance to watch Mayor Colombo, Katie, and her parents pose for photographs (Andrea and I stayed to the side, away from the crowd) Katie held a pair of giant ceremonial scissors up to the red ribbon, and the wattage of her grin could have lit up the Eastern Sea Board for weeks straight.

  “Before we make this official, I just want to say a few words,” Mayor Colombo announced. “On behalf of the town of Honey Crest, we want to wish Katie’s Kakes and the Lansfords all the success in the world!”

  “Here, here!” one of the observers shouted.

  I felt myself get a little emotional as I watched Katie cut the red ribbon and heard the crowd erupt into huge applause. Camera flashes fired off, and bursts of confetti showered down from the roof. The Lansfords hugged each other while Mayor Colombo dutifully shook hands with the towns’ citizens.

  “Do you have a tissue?” Andrea wailed, tears streaming down her face. She pulled me in for a big bear hug. “That was so beautiful!”

  “Andrea…I can’t…breathe,” I choked.

  I saw Katie make her way through the crowd. “Come with me,” she ordered, grabbing my hand. “I want a picture of us with the mayor.”

  “I’m not taking a picture looking like this!” Andrea protested as we followed her.

  “Only if I get to hold the silly scissors,” I joked.

  “But I need them to help cover up my fat belly!”

  “We can all share!” Katie laughed.

  We got to the entrance and saw Dante nervously pace around. “Let’s hurry up and take this picture, guys. We go on the air in two minutes,” he said sternly.

  “Well excuuuuuuse me, Mr. Radio,” Andrea snapped.

  Amen, I wanted to add. Who did he think he was? We lined up in this order—Andrea, Katie, me and Dante. “Scissors please!” I jokingly ordered.

  Dante d
ashed out of line and grabbed them from behind us. “Here,” he said tersely, filing back in line next to Andrea.

  I wasn’t expecting the attitude, nor the heavy weight of the scissors. “Um, thanks,” I mumbled as my shoulder dropped down. “You guys have to hold on to the handles with me, these are pretty heavy.”

  We each grabbed a section and posed for the pleasant photographer.

  “Smile!” the older woman exclaimed.

  I looked at Dante, who briefly glanced at me. He was not smiling, and his blue eyes were iced over.

  I shook my head and took a deep breath to compose myself. I plastered a big smile on my face and looked into the camera. The photographer took a few shots. “What a lovely looking group!” she remarked before walking away.

  “Doubtful,” Andrea mumbled.

  “Okay guys, gotta run,” Dante said, gently touching Andrea’s stomach.

  “Me too, I got to get baking, we’re running out of some product,” Katie added. They both scurried inside.

  “Dammitammit!” Andrea howled, stomping her right foot. “Come with me to the bathroom again.” We made our way back inside, where it was almost too packed. Katie should have hoped the fire department didn’t drive by and see.

  “Pregnant lady coming through, move out of the way!” Andrea barked as we made our way through the crowd. “Move it, move it!” Miraculously, considering the sheer volume of people, the bathroom didn’t have a line.

  “Wait for me,” Andrea pleaded.

  I nodded as I took out my iPhone and checked my messages. I only had one:

  Mom Cell: I see Dante is on the air with Tommy. Why isn’t that you???? You should maybe consider the marketing thing. How much more time are you going to waste at that place?

  How was that for a motivational speech? I was tempted to forward it to my long-lost friend Xander, whom I hadn’t seen in nearly a month, so he could add it to his collection of quotes. Disgusted, I threw my phone back in my bag and walked over to outside Andrea’s stall.

  “Andrea, have you talked to Dante?”

  “Um, I’m a little busy right now!” she snapped.

  “Good talk!” I walked back to the mirror and took out my hairspray to touch up my hair. A semi-familiar face entered the bathroom and stood at the mirror next to me. I couldn’t exactly place where I knew the plump woman from.

  “Carla D’Agostino?” she asked, smoothing out her frizzy, light brown hair.

  “Yes?” I stopped spraying.

  “It’s Makalya Romano! Well, now my last name is Foster. We went to high school together!”

  “Oh yeah, we had a bunch of classes together! How are you?” I smiled, but on the inside, I was stunned. This girl was my age? She looked as if she was pushing forty, easily.

  “I’m good! I’m married, three kids. I’m a stay-at-home mom, but the house and my daughters keep me super busy. How about yourself?”

  This was a sneak preview of what was to come at the reunion, and I did not like it one bit. How could I compete with that rundown? “Um, you know, I’m living,” I nervously chuckled. “Things are good.”

  “You are at that sports station, right? The one that Dante Ezra is here with? My husband listens all the time and says he hears your name! I’m like ‘I went to high school with that girl! Now I know TWO people on the radio!’”

  “Yeah, yeah, that’s me, I mean, us.” I wanted to crawl under the sink and die.

  “I remember you were best friends with Dante, and Katie Lansford, and Andrea Rocha. Wow, what a bitch she was!” she laughed. Her giant diamond sitting on her left hand caught the overhead light.

  “Uh-huh.” I nervously looked towards Andrea’s stall.

  “So…are you married?” Makalya asked.

  I was spared from further embarrassment by Andrea emerging from the stall. “I am SO done with this place,” Andrea proclaimed. “I want to go home.”

  “You remember Andrea Rocha, right?” I introduced innocently.

  Makalya’s eyes shot open in horror. I wanted to laugh; who was the fool now?

  “Who are you?” Andrea questioned.

  “We went to high school together. I’m Makalya Romano, now Foster.”

  “I don’t remember you.” Andrea brushed her off and made her way to the sink.

  “It was a big school…” she trailed off. “But congratulations on your pregnancy! When are you due?”

  “December,” she sighed. Small talk was not Andrea’s forte.

  “Nice! That’s when my middle child was born.”

  “Middle child?” Andrea repeated disbelievingly. “You’ve done this more than once?”

  “I have three daughters,” Makalya boasted proudly. “I am a professional baby maker. Any pregnancy issue you may have, ask away! I’ve been there, done that.”

  Professional baby maker?

  “Oh yeah?” Andrea perked up. “What can I do to make these last weeks as comfortable as possible? I’m about to put a gun to my head.”

  “Are you going to be here for a while? Let’s chat!” Makalya exclaimed.

  “Okay!” Andrea chirped happily. The two walked out of the bathroom, completely forgetting the fact that I was standing there.

  Incredible. This girl was just talking shit about Andrea, but like everyone did back in high school, bowed down when she graced them with her presence. For the first time, it dawned on me that Andrea was going to be a mother (paging Captain Obvious). I guess the fact was lost on me amidst her hormonal rantings and ongoing divorce proceedings. It was going to be weird seeing Andrea in that role.

  I roamed out of the bathroom, deep in thought. The four of us were all going in separate directions; Andrea was a mom, Katie was a business owner, Dante was an emerging superstar, and I was …well, at least three of us were moving onward and upward. Despite our different lives, would we still be able to stay tight, or would my friends leave me in their dust? It was hard enough to keep our monthly brunch appointment as things stood now; what were we going to do when things really got busy?

  I passed by the broadcast and saw Tommy and Dante bantering. Tommy threw me a quick wave, but as he’d done all day, Dante disregarded my company.

  Apparently, the cracks in our Jade Meadow foundation were already forming.

  13

  Day 119

  “We’re going to switch gears for a minute and welcome a very special guest,” Tommy Max announced. “We have Katie Lansford, the owner of Katie’s Kakes in Honey Creek, New Jersey, here in the studio!”

  “Hi, Tommy!” Katie greeted.

  “We were broadcasting from the grand opening a few weeks back, and unfortunately, we ran out of time and didn’t have a chance to get her on the show,” Tommy continued. “But she’s here today and brought us some amazing desserts. Katie, really, I’ve never put something in my mouth that tastes this good!”

  “Oh really?” Katie giggled.

  “Well, ok, maybe this is Top five,” Tommy laughed.

  Ruby rolled her eyes at the double innuendo.

  Maybe they would have had more time if Tommy was doing the show solo, I thought bitterly.

  I hadn’t seen Dante since the grand opening. We didn’t speak the entire rest of the day, but started lightly communicating a few days later via text:

  Me: We haven’t talked in awhile, and I’m not sure why. What is going on?

  Dante Ezra Cell: I’m okay. I just need my space. There’s a lot going on.

  As you can see, things continued to be strained. I chalked it up to his still being upset about Stacy. In times of my personal distress, there were certain people I confided in more than others. For example, when Mark and I broke up I told my mother nothing; I gave Dante the summarized version of the story (since he was a boy and, at the end of the day, didn’t really care); and I dissected, analyzed, debated and repeated every detail with Katie and Andrea. So for whatever reason, despite my vast expertise in the area, I was seemingly not someone he was comfortable talking about the breakup with; maybe
he associated me with the night Stacy dumped him since I was the first outsider he saw, and my presence drummed up those horrible memories (signed, Carla D’Agostino, MD).

  To boot, I absolutely hated confrontation, so I wasn’t going to push the issue. And, admittedly, it was no secret that he hadn’t been my favorite person lately. If he did come around, cool, but if not…fine.

  Besides, I didn’t have time to wallow in someone else’s heartbreak, when I finally might be kissing mine goodbye! I met a fantastic guy on LoveAtFirstSite.com named Drew. I already had him pegged as my reunion savior. He’s 32, from Queens, handsome (but Jewish; I’m not sure how my household would receive that one) and successful (he has his own insurance law firm). We’d been exchanging e-mails for the past couple weeks, and we made plans to finally meet in Manhattan, at Bamboo Sushi. I came to work dressed for the occasion—tight black pants, a sequenced gold tank top, and a beige blazer.

  “Where are you going in that outfit, missy? Are you hooking tonight? Hee-hee-hee,” Laney cackled when I walked in to work that morning.

  Unfortunately, nothing was happening on the job front, but it was because of the upcoming holidays, I reasoned. Everyone was busy closing out the year, and probably wouldn’t be thinking about new hires until January. Which was fine; I could get to know Drew for a couple months, have him fall in love with me, and then persuade him to uproot his business to where I’d be working, in Toledo, Ohio.

  Tommy’s voice broke my trance. “Katie, tell our listeners what you’ve brought in for us today.”

  As Katie rattled off her creations, my boss, Dan Durkin, appeared in the control room...with the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Dan first introduced the man to the studio engineer, Gus, who quietly waved hello. Then they turned to me. “Carla, this is Miguel Martinez,” Dan announced.

  He didn’t need any introduction. Miguel Martinez played left field for the New York Yankees, and I had been infatuated with him since the Bronx Bombers signed him as a free agent in 2003. He was a beautiful, 6-foot specimen of Cuban lean muscle, with the most amazing green eyes I’d ever seen. (I admit, I still had his poster hanging in my bedroom next to the other green-eyed Yankee hunk of my youth, Derek Jeter.)