by Chris Scully
“It was almost as old as me, Pop. Time for a new one.”
The scowl deepened. “So. It is old, not broken. You don’t throw out just because is old.”
“You could barely read it anymore.”
“Bah, who cares for signs? They come for food.”
“You’re wrong, Pop. Half the restaurant business is marketing these days.”
Kosta flapped a hand. “Thirty years I’ve been in this business. I think I know what customers want. Good food is good food.”
Peter threw up his hands. “So what, Pop? Do you want me to take it down and put the old one back up? Is that it? Huh?”
Kosta grunted. “And throw away more money? Who will want a sign with my name?”
Peter swore under his breath as his father hitched his pants up over his stomach and went back inside. He couldn’t do anything right, it seemed.
A chuckle from his right drew his attention. Peter hadn’t noticed the man in the chef’s coat who was smoking and leaning against one of the many planters dotting the street, but he recognized him as the chef-owner of the new place next door. The one specializing in modern Mediterranean cuisine. Thanos Something-or-other. There had been a write-up in the weekly neighborhood paper about him.
“I remember working for my dad,” he said.
“Yeah? How’d that work out?”
“About as well as for you. We fought like cats and dogs. That’s why I had to branch out on my own.” He stubbed out his cigarette and approached. “If it’s any consolation, I like it—your sign. You’ve got a good eye.”
“Thanks,” Peter replied. Too bad his dad hadn’t heard that.
“If you get tired of working for the old man, let me know. I could use someone with your skills.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious. Business is taking off. That last review was golden for us. My wife handles the front-of-house and management stuff, but we’re expecting our first kid. I’m going to need a new manager soon.”
Peter didn’t know what to say.
“Of course you’d still have to interview for it. My business partner would want to meet you.” Thanos clapped him on the back. “But think about it.”
“I will.”
He was still thinking about it hours later. Was Thanos really serious? More importantly, could he leave his dad on his own? Three years after his dad’s heart attack, Peter could still see his pop’s pale, drawn figure in the hospital bed, feel that clutch of fear in his chest at the realization his immortal parents were just flesh and blood. His father was an ox, not this old and fragile man. His mother, a rock as formidable and immovable as the Acropolis, had sobbed in his arms. That was the moment his whole life had changed.
As a kid, he’d been awed by and a little afraid of his dad—definitely intimidated. Kosta may have been short and round, but he was not the least bit cuddly. “Solid” was the word that sprang to mind. He’d once seen his dad single-handedly hang an entire goat on a spit in the backyard as if it weighed nothing.
Peter didn’t recall much about their arrival in Canada—he was only two years old at the time—but he’d known right away that his dad wasn’t like his new friends’ dads. He didn’t take Peter to the zoo, he didn’t come to football games or even to his high school graduation. The damned restaurant was more Kosta’s child than Peter had ever been, and Peter had been a little jealous of it. In fact, the only time he saw his dad was at church, and then later, when Peter started working in the restaurant himself.
He thought he understood it a bit more now. He had let go of some of his resentment. His parents had built something from the ground up. They wanted to give him what they never had, even if he didn’t want it. But as he grew up, he sometimes wondered if they had ever been happy. They never talked if they could yell. They rarely laughed and almost never touched, at least not affectionately. Sometimes Peter imagined them lying side by side in their bed like strangers, an invisible barrier down the middle. Then he imagined the same for himself.
Peter shook off his depressing thoughts and returned his focus to Thanos’s job offer.
He should ask Louie’s opinion.
Louie.
Four days after the apartment hunting trip, Peter was trying to figure out how he could arrange to hang out with Louie again without it seeming creepy or weird. Joe and Adam had plans to go out of town for the upcoming long weekend, and Demetra seemed to be avoiding him lately. He was tired of being on his own. But while he and Louie had texted back and forth all week and even managed to meet up for coffee once, Peter still hadn’t been able to broach the topic. No matter how he phrased it in his head, it still always sounded like he was asking for a date.
He’d never had this problem before.
There was nothing odd about two single guys hanging out. And yet his stomach cramped every time he thought about it. He’d had such a good time on the weekend. This connection he felt with Louie was almost like the one he’d had with Joe and Adam before they became so wrapped up in each other and forgot about him. Louie was fun to be around, easy to talk to. They had a ton of stuff in common. And of course there was this other thing. This other thing that made his heart jump every time his phone pinged with a new text. It was the other thing that kept him from making the call he wanted to.
When he was with Louie, he felt… good—freer, lighter. The him he used to be way back when. And playing Louie’s boyfriend? Well, that role had fit far too easily. In the back of his mind he knew he was playing with fire, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Uh, Peter. You might want to switch it up now.”
Peter started at the sound of Annie’s voice so close. When he looked down, he’d scrubbed a perfect sparkling circle on the flattop grill. The rest of it however, was still a greasy mess. “Shit.”
Annie laughed. “What’s got you so frowny again?”
He scowled as he scrubbed out his frustrations. “Don’t you have better things to do than watch me?”
“Uh, hello.” She gestured to the nearly empty restaurant.
By eight o’clock on this Wednesday night, there was only one table still occupied, and they had flipped the sign in the window to Closed. Midweek evenings were always slower—most customers preferred to grab takeout on their way home to dining in. He could hardly blame them.
His mother had stopped by after her weekly bible study group to do some inventory, and she was in the back room, leaving him and Annie to start cleaning up. Pop was off at his social club—an empty storefront owned by a family friend, where old men hung out reading the paper, smoking until the air was blue, and watching soccer on satellite.
The bell over the door rang, startling them both. “We’re closed,” they chorused in unison.
“I hope you’ll make an exception for me,” Demetra entreated as she sauntered in, bringing with her a cloud of perfume and hairspray.
Annie made a great show of coughing, and Peter silenced her with a glare before stepping out from behind the counter and greeting Demetra with a hug and kiss. “What are you doing here?”
“Do I need an excuse?” she teased. “We haven’t seen much of each other lately. I thought I’d stop by and remedy that. Remind you which Papadakis you’re dating. Can you take a break?”
“Good timing,” he murmured in her ear. “Ma’s still here.”
As if summoned, his mother barreled out of the back office and enveloped Demetra in a welcoming hug. He didn’t even wonder how she had known of Demetra’s arrival. “Demetra, darling. It is so good to see you.”
“You too, Mrs. Georgiou.” Demetra winked at Peter over his mom’s shoulder. “Your hair looks great. Have you done something different?”
His mother preened at the compliment. She hadn’t changed her hairstyle in thirty years. Peter rolled his eyes. Demetra was laying it on thick tonight.
“I’m just going to take a short break, Ma. Is that okay?”
“Of course, of course,” she assured him with an eager grin. Thi
ngs had been tense between them since the scene with Louie. He hadn’t quite forgiven her yet. But now that Demetra was here, she was all smiles and graciousness. “You go.”
Permission granted, he ushered Demetra to the farthest table, where they would be able to talk in relative privacy. Then he went back to the bar, poured her a glass of the Greek Moschofilero wine she liked, and grabbed a bottle of sparkling water for himself.
“Do you want some food?” Peter handed her the wine.
“This is fine.”
His mother beamed at them from behind the cash register, where she pretended to be tidying the surrounding countertop. Feeling as though he were under surveillance, he returned his gaze to Demetra and tried to elicit some sort of excitement at seeing her.
Things would be much easier if he was attracted to her.
“So Louie says he had a good time with you last weekend,” she said.
Peter coughed as his water went down his throat the wrong way. “Uh, me too.”
“It sounds like this new place is great. Too bad he has to wait another couple of weeks until he can move in.”
“He got the downtown condo?” Why hadn’t Louie told him? He’d been the one who had encouraged it. Peter tried to ignore the way that hurt.
“Yeah. He just found out,” Demetra said. She reached across the table and took his hand. Peter started at the unexpected gesture. “I meant to say something before. I know we didn’t talk about it, but thank you for spending so much time with him. That was a great idea.”
Demetra thought he spent time with Louie because of her? “I like Louie,” he insisted.
“I’m glad you’re cool with… you know.”
Peter stiffened. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Your folks are even more traditional than mine. And my dad went ballistic when Louie came out—kicked him out of the house and everything. Luckily, Louie had already planned on leaving. That’s when he went to Vancouver.”
Unease gripped Peter by the throat. “I didn’t know it was that bad.”
“Oh it was bad,” Demetra said, idly stroking his fingers. More than anything he wanted to yank his hand back, but there were too many prying eyes watching, so he just gritted his teeth. “It’s still not great, so we don’t discuss it much.” Demetra gave a small smile. “Anyway, Louie needs more friends. He’s been pretty down since the breakup. All he does is mope around the house.”
Peter was dying to know more. Louie had hinted at a relationship, but he hadn’t felt brave enough to pry. He made a sympathetic noise. “What happened?”
“Louie doesn’t talk about it. Why would he? He doesn’t tell us anything. All I know is the boyfriend was very closeted. I guess he ran in some influential circles or something. He wouldn’t introduce Louie to any of his friends or family.”
“Oh.”
“Louie finally gave him an ultimatum, but it didn’t work out so well.”
Peter nodded silently, thinking. No wonder Louie had made such a fuss about not hiding in the closet. He wondered if the breakup was the reason for his return home too.
His mother appeared at the table like a magician, brandishing a bowl of olives and a basket of warm pita, and Demetra finally relinquished her hold on his hand. She chatted about work as she picked at the food. She was an executive assistant to a senior partner in a law firm, and her hours were as crazy as his, or so it seemed lately. They’d hardly spent any time together this summer, not since before her parents left for their annual trip to Greece. The whole time she talked, the weight on his chest grew heavier. Peter kept wondering how he could bring the conversation back around to Louie and his broken heart.
The annoying electronic dance beat of Demetra’s ring tone interrupted her monologue. She frowned at the screen, ignored the call, and dropped her phone back into her oversized handbag.
“You can take that if you want,” Peter urged.
She smiled sweetly. “Nope.”
But Peter could tell the call weighed on her mind. She grew quiet, downed the remains of her wine in one gulp. Several minutes later, Demetra excused herself. “Be right back,” she assured him before heading downstairs to the restrooms in the basement.
Peter let out the sigh he’d been holding in, forgetting for a brief second about his audience. He quickly checked if anyone had noticed, but his mother was nowhere to be seen. She must have gone back to the office.
He pulled out his own phone, intending to send Louie a congratulatory message, and saw with a lick of pleasure that Louie had texted him earlier. He had just missed it. Got the apartment, the message said.
Congrats, Peter typed. He had barely sent the text before the reply arrived.
Will u help me move?
Of course. Im supposed to be ur boyfriend remember?
Peter stared in horror at the words he’d just sent. What the hell had possessed him to write that? His heart pounded as he waited for Louie’s response. It seemed to take an awfully long time.
LOL. Ur the best pretend boyfriend I ever had
The breath he’d been holding whooshed from his lungs. It’s a date, then.
You wish ;)
“And there it is again,” Annie muttered as she passed his table, the spray bottle of cleaning fluid dangling from her hand.
“What?” Peter turned around in his seat as she misted the abandoned table behind them and scrubbed vigorously at a particularly sticky spot.
“That sexy smile. Maybe if you used it on your girlfriend more often, she wouldn’t be hiding in the bathroom and yelling on the phone?”
Demetra had been gone a long time. “Is she okay?”
Annie shrugged. “How would I know?” She set the napkin holder and condiments back in place, then straightened as she threw him a haughty look. “Do I look like a snoop? But she sounded pretty upset to me.”
Should he check on her?
“Do you know anyone named Andre?” Annie asked.
“Andre? No. Why?”
“Oh, no reason.” Annie waltzed over to another table and repeated her cleaning routine just as Demetra reemerged and headed back to the table. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glittered, and there was a determined set to her jaw as she sat down.
“Everything ok—?”
“Do you want to come over tonight after your shift?” she asked abruptly.
Peter peered at her, his body tensing for unknown reasons. “Um, sure. I just need to finish up here.”
“No problem. Louie’s been a pest lately. It would be good for him to see us together.”
He relaxed. They wouldn’t be alone. Louie would be there. That worrying tingle of anticipation raced up his spine. “Demetra, maybe we should rethink—”
The flash of panic on Demetra’s face made Peter hesitate. “You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”
“No, of course not.”
“I know I haven’t been around much.” She smiled at him and took his hand again. “And I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. Besides, it’s about time we started getting serious about this, isn’t it?”
Panic tightened his chest. What the hell did that mean?
Demetra rose and leaned down to kiss him. It was a long kiss—passionless, but long enough to make Peter uncomfortable. When she pulled back, she smiled again, but it appeared slightly forced. He felt like they were both actors in a third-rate play—cast in roles neither was fully committed to. “I’ll see you soon, then.”
Dumfounded, Peter could only nod and watch as she left the restaurant.
“I think I’m gonna hurl,” Annie said in disgust.
You and me both, he wanted to say. Worst of all, his mom wasn’t even around.
HALF AN hour later, he turned out the lights and drove his mom home. Friday and Saturday nights they stayed open until midnight during the summer, but weeknights they closed at eight. He really didn’t want to go over to Demetra’s place. He was an ass for even thinking that way—a guy should want to spend time with his girlfriend, right?—but
sometimes she bored him silly.
Demetra was great. She was smart and pretty, and Greek. He was lucky to have her. But the fact was he regarded her more as a younger sister than a potential wife. He’d thought she felt the same, but now he wasn’t so sure.
She was too young for him, for one thing. A five-year age difference may not have seemed like much on the surface, but to him it was a generational divide. And outside of their families, they really had nothing in common.
But if Louie was there, it would be okay. Suddenly the night didn’t seem so dreadful. He texted Demetra to say he would shower first, but she said it didn’t matter and to come on over. When he arrived, still smelling of the grill, she greeted him with another kiss, right there on the front porch. She had changed out of her work clothes, and he did a double take when he noticed how her breasts moved beneath the thin sundress that clung to her body. Braless, then. Peter felt a surge of uncertainty.
The house seemed quiet and empty as she ushered him inside. “Where’s Louie?” he whispered, in case the man was close by.
“Oh, he’s out,” she replied. His heart sank. They were alone. Even though they’d been dating for a few months now, there had always been other people around: her parents, his parents, her friends.
“I thought this was for his benefit.”
“He’ll show up eventually. Why don’t we watch some TV?” She took his hand and led him into the living room.
“Uh, sure.”
“Can I get you something to drink?”
For once he didn’t jump at the offer. Although he wished he had when she announced she wanted to watch last night’s episode of The Bachelor.
Peter sat cautiously on the couch. When Demetra walked in front of the television, he could see clean through the sundress to the dark panties she wore beneath. He gulped and felt the sweat jump out on his forehead, more than a little surprised to find himself turned on. He quickly looked away. “I, uh, was thinking about what you said earlier—about Louie not having too many friends. I thought I’d see if he wanted to go to a movie this weekend.”