In the Distance

by Eileen Griffin

  Ethan loaded some eggs and sausage onto a waiting kid’s plate, and then turned back to us. “I can relate. I don’t think I’ve ever had a day in my life where I didn’t come home smelling like oil. Or Nutella.”

  A sly smile crept over his face and I knew there was a story there. A story that most likely involved Jamie. A story I most definitely didn’t want to hear.

  “Um, Chef, I mean, Ethan?”

  Ethan sighed and shook his head. “One of these days you’ll get used to calling me that when we’re not at the restaurant.”

  I doubted it, but then again, I never even would have considered calling him Ethan to his face almost two years ago.

  “So, Nick here is looking for a job and he was wondering if we had anything open at Bistro 30. I know we have a full staff right now, but since we’ve been swamped recently, I didn’t know if you were thinking about hiring any extra staff.”

  Ethan handed the serving spoon he’d been holding to another volunteer and came out from behind the counter. He leaned against the nearest table and eyed Nick up and down. It wasn’t a patronizing look, just Ethan sizing him up to see what he was made of. I had to give Nick credit. He still looked green around the gills, but he didn’t shrink away from Ethan’s careful assessment of him.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Ethan shifted his weight and pulled a business card out of his wallet, handing it to Nick. “Why don’t you come by tomorrow and we can talk. We only have a busser position open at Bistro 30, but my sister was looking for some extra staff and she might have a place for you there, if you’re interested.”

  Avery clutched Nick’s arm in excitement. “You’d love Claire. She’s so awesome and funny. She comes in here sometimes and she’s a total hoot.” Avery’s mouth snapped shut when we heard the low chuckle rumbling out of Ethan’s chest.

  She backpedaled immediately and began stammering, “Oh my God, Ethan. I didn’t mean anything. I mean, you’re awesome, too.”

  I laughed and put my arm around her, barely catching her next words when she buried her face in my chest. “Just kill me now.”

  With my arms wrapped around her, I whispered in her ear, “He’s smiling, so stop freaking out. It’s all good, okay?”

  It took everything I had not to laugh with Avery in my arms as I watched Ethan scrub a hand over his face. As I wondered how much damage control I would have to do, Ethan caught my eye over her shoulder and subtly nodded his head, his way of letting me know it was all good.

  Avery, Nick and I made our way over to a table so I could give Nick a better idea of what he’d be walking into tomorrow, as well as the lowdown on both Bistro 30 and Claire’s new place, The Greenhouse. Avery piped in with a couple of funny stories about Claire, and before I knew it, twenty minutes had passed. Except for last night with Trevor, it was the first time I’d really just sat down and talked with anyone besides the crew at Bistro 30 since I’d left home.

  “Hey, thanks. It’s been shitty trying to find a job.”

  I looked up into Nick’s too-serious blue eyes and smiled. “No problem. I was there, too, once. If Ethan hadn’t taken a chance on me, well, I’m not sure what would have happened.”

  “You working tomorrow?”

  It didn’t take much to read between the lines of Nick’s question. Avery’s lips twitched into a smile behind his back.

  “I have class in the morning, but I’ll be there for the afternoon shift. What time were you going to drop by?”

  Nick’s expression brightened. “Maybe around two?”

  I hesitated for a moment, quickly weighing whether or not this was a good idea. I wasn’t social on the best of days and I rarely, if ever, gave anyone outside of work my cell number. Nick wasn’t just anyone, though. I’d been exactly where he was until Ethan had given me a break. Nick wasn’t asking for my number because he wanted to go out. He needed help. Plain and simple.

  Before I could overthink it, I grabbed a napkin from the table. “Here’s my cell number. Call if you need directions, or, well, anything. Trust me, I’ve been there before, but Ethan’s a good guy. And Jamie will be there, so he’ll be on his best behavior.”

  Nick looked thoroughly confused by yet another name he didn’t know. “Who’s Jamie?”

  There was a pause, then Avery beat me to it. “His husband. And dude, let me just say this. If I wasn’t into chicks? I’d be all over that.”

  I wasn’t sure if I started laughing because of what Avery had said, or the shocked look on Nick’s face, but it felt good. Ethan raised an eyebrow once I’d made my way back over to the serving station and donned a fresh pair of gloves.

  “Nick’s coming in tomorrow afternoon,” I told him.

  Ethan nodded to himself and was quiet for a few minutes as a few new kids found their way to the serving line. Once the last one was through, Ethan cleared his throat. “You know, you were good with him back there.”

  “He seemed solid. Well, as solid as anyone who has to come to the shelter to get a meal. But I didn’t get any bad vibes off him. Sometimes you can just tell the ones you need to stay away from, ya know? Nick, though, he just seemed like he needed to catch a break.”

  Ethan just nodded again, his eyes down on the food but his mind on something I couldn’t see. “Ain’t that the truth.” He paused, then added, “Look, Tyler. I know we ride you hard at the restaurant.”

  I started to interrupt, but he held his hands up to stop me. “Hear me out. Since the moment you started working for me, I’ve never once heard you complain.”

  My eyes must have betrayed me, because he threw his head back and laughed. “I said I never heard you complain, not that you didn’t. Hell, I can’t imagine anyone working for me and not complaining. Trust me, Claire and Jamie have complained enough for it to count for everyone in the crew, twice over. My point is, you could have thrown my shit back at me numerous times when I rode your ass harder than I should have, and you didn’t. Just like today, you could have blown that kid off after I talked to him. But you didn’t. I watched you and I gotta say, Tyler, you were good with him.”

  When I didn’t say anything, he laid a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. “Not like that. Although he’s not bad, if you like that whole blond-haired, blue-eyed thing.”

  He winked at me when I finally looked back at him. Embarrassment flooded me. Not because I didn’t get his joke, or because Nick wasn’t good-looking. Nick was exactly the type of guy I would have drooled over in high school but would have been terrified of approaching. For all his good looks, though, I was surprised to realize I wasn’t interested in discovering if he was interested in me or not. I hadn’t picked up any signs from him, but I hadn’t actually been looking for any. Even though the humiliation of last night still burned in my gut, I couldn’t get Trevor out of my head. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I didn’t have a chance in hell with a guy like Trevor. At the same time, I just wasn’t interested in pursuing anything with Nick. I sighed and cursed myself for ever agreeing to go out to dinner with Trevor.

  “Look, all I’m saying is you’re good with people. I know it’s not easy for you to open up, something I seriously want to kick your parents’ asses for contributing to, but it doesn’t diminish the fact you’re good with people who need it. If you want to spend more time helping out here, just say the word. We’ll work it out at the restaurant.”

  “He has a point, Tyler,” Donna said. “You of all people know how hard it is on the streets. Sometimes it’s enough to turn a person inside out until even they don’t recognize themselves. But you survived. What’s more, you have a special knack for making people feel comfortable, even when you don’t say a word.”

  “It’s always the quiet ones.” Ethan snickered behind me.

  Donna shot him a look and the snickering immediately stopped. Ethan suddenly found himself busy with tearing down the servin
g line, keeping a healthy distance between himself and Donna as he carried a few empty warming trays to the back.

  Donna watched him push through the door to the kitchens and sighed. “I adore that man but he makes me want to smack and hug him at the same time.”

  This time I let my laughter go. “Pretty sure you’re not the only one who feels that way.”

  Donna shook her head before turning her attention back to me. “What his poor husband must go through. But for every gander, there’s a gander. He does have a point, though, Tyler.”

  I busied myself with clearing up the rest of the serving station, but Donna must have taken that as a green light to keep talking.

  “I take my job seriously around here. You’re good with the kids who come through here. I’ve watched you make the little ones smile while their parents attend the PFLAG meetings, and Nick, well, I’m pretty sure Avery’s the only person Nick’s talked to since he showed up here last month. The fact he sat and talked to you for as long as he did speaks volumes.”

  I tried to shrug it off, not just because Donna was right—I’d never been good with taking compliments—but also because I’d been there. I’d been in their shoes and I still remember craving someone to give enough of a shit about me to stop and talk to me instead of judging me for who they thought I was. Isn’t that what most people wanted? To have someone to stop and, just for one moment, validate who they are?

  “I know you’ve got a full plate. Lord only knows how you manage your work and school schedule and still find time to make it here as often as you do. But we just got a flyer for a different kind of volunteer opportunity at some of the local elementary schools I think you might be interested in.”

  My confusion was enough to finally loosen my tongue. “Elementary schools?”

  Donna grabbed one of the empty trays and nodded for me to follow her to the back. As soon as Ethan saw us, he ducked his head and began to studiously scrub the pan in front of him. Donna led me to the back office, and rifled around on the cluttered desk until she found the paper she was looking for and thrust it into my hand.

  “We get these every couple of months, but this one,” she said, pointing to a section of the paper about two-thirds down the page, “made me think of you and Ethan.”

  My eyes found the paragraph she was pointing to, but I was still confused.

  “The program is looking for volunteers to help with their new garden. Looks like these days, we’re all in need of a few extra hands when it comes to helping our kids. For this one, the teachers will be supervising it all, but they’re asking for extra help. They’d like to have a few volunteers who are willing to help the kids work in the garden and keep it sustainable.”

  She paused, her expression softening. “I know you’ve been through a lot, and frankly, the idea of putting yourself out there and interacting with strangers who might judge you for who you are can be daunting. But you don’t give yourself enough credit. When you’re not nervous, you’re good at getting people to relax and open up, and even more, you have the patience of a saint. Just think about the program. You never know, it just might be good for both the kids and you.”

  I took a second glance at the flyer. The more I read, the more I found myself wanting to be a part of it. The goal was to help the kids not only learn about growing their own food, but the ways that food could be used for a healthier lifestyle. The only drawback was I pretty sure I wasn’t exactly the type of volunteer the schools were looking for. They needed chefs who knew their craft a whole lot more than a sous-chef who was barely out of his first semester in culinary school. Especially if that sous-chef was gay and might corrupt the kids. At least, that’s what my parents and everyone at their church would have said.

  I was realistic enough to know that working with the elementary school kids wouldn’t stop the ache I felt whenever I thought about my brother and sister, but being able to pay it forward, to help kids learn about food in a way my parents had never bothered to with us, maybe that was exactly what I needed.

  Before I could stop myself, I cleared my throat and asked, “So, what exactly does someone have to do if they were interested in volunteering for this?”

  * * *

  When I finally sat down on my futon almost eight hours later, I knew the odds of making it to my bed before I passed out were slim. After our shift at the shelter, Ethan and I had headed over to Bistro 30. Jamie had always taken over the morning prep on Sundays, leaving Ethan free to volunteer if he wanted, but there was always something to keep us busy. A delayed delivery, equipment repairs, a last-minute lunch reservation for twenty people. The only thing constant at all in a restaurant was constant motion. Once you stopped moving, you found yourself in the weeds. And nothing sucked more than being in the weeds.

  I closed my eyes and thanked the kitchen gods I was on winter break, which equaled no school in the morning. Sleeping in was a luxury I planned to take full advantage of over the next few weeks. As if on cue, my phone chirped from across the room. I opened my eyes and turned my head in its direction. No one texted me unless it had something to do with work or school, so I made my way across the apartment to the kitchen where I’d dumped all my stuff when I first entered.

  I looked at the number on my phone. The area code was wrong. Seattle’s was 206, but this number began with 212.

  My curiosity got the better of me and I tapped the screen to pull up the message.

  I should have sent this earlier, but better late than never, right? Thanks for celebrating with me when June and Ward Cleaver were too busy.

  June and Ward Cleaver? What the fuck? Who were they? And why was Trevor texting me? I’d freaked out and he’d left. Wasn’t it better to leave it at that?

  I almost dropped my phone when it chirped again.

  I’ll make it up to you next time we go out. I promise to choose a place without any spicy breadsticks.

  And just like that, I felt a smile spread across my face. It was a small thing, but Trevor had remembered it. What was more surprising was how much I wanted to text him back. But what would I even say? “Thanks,” and then play it all off like it was no big deal?

  A third message came through before I could come up with a reply.

  I’ll behave next time. Promise.

  Then another one right on its heels.

  Unless Martin comes. Then all bets are off.

  I laughed out loud in my empty apartment. Before I could overthink it, my fingers flew across the keyboard.

  Can I video that?

  Only if I get a cut. I’m in entertainment mgt for a reason ;)

  The tension I’d been feeling all day seeped out of me, and we began texting about our day. Here, in my apartment, with miles and the faint glow of my phone’s screen separating us, it was almost easy to forget how awkward I was and just enjoy the moment.

  I wasn’t sure how long we’d been texting about my shifts at the shelter and Bistro 30 when Trevor’s final text came through.

  Gotta jet—been traveling all day and just got back to the condo. Enjoy your holidays and don’t let E & J give you too much smack or work you too hard. You deserve a break just like everyone else. TTYL. T

  For a full minute, I stared at the screen of my phone. Maybe I hadn’t screwed things up with Trevor as badly as I thought I had. When I finally crawled into bed, I scrolled through the messages on my phone one last time before turning it off for the night. For the next hour, as I lay there in bed staring at the ceiling, I found it impossible to wipe the smile off my face.

  * * *

  Went shopping at FAO today. Couldn’t resist taking a break from the insane crowds for a little fun.

  Enrique shot me a quizzical look when I burst out laughing. I shook my head to let him know it all was good, but a second glance at the photo had me laughing all over again. Trevor stood on a giant keyboard w
ith his arms and legs spread wide, a look of pure joy on his face. As I was still laughing, another one came through. This one included a small boy, maybe about six or seven, both of them in the air midjump. I could almost hear their laughter through the phone as they played out their duet on the ginormous keys. The last one showed Trevor high-fiving the kid with a text under it.

  That kid totally kicked my ass. I’m either getting old or I need to revisit my childhood piano teacher for a refresher course.

  I quickly typed back.

  Let’s go with the piano teacher. Unless you want me to look into a good nursing home for you. I’m sure Ethan would help me find one for you ;)

  Smartass. If you tell Martin about this, I’m reneging on our dinner next time I’m in town.

  I couldn’t resist.

  My lips are sealed. For now.

  I slipped my phone back into my pocket and got back to work. We were busier than ever, with a waiting list a mile long, but none of that put a damper on my mood as the image of Trevor jumping on that enormous piano kept playing on a loop for the rest of my shift.

  * * *

  Claire’s voice got louder and louder the more Ethan mocked her mashed beet rutabaga potato monstrosity. It was impossible to be in the restaurant industry and not have an adventurous palate, but there were limits.

  “You have no taste, E. Back me up, Jamie. My mashed beetabaga is pure genius. Admit it.”

  I laughed as Jamie backed out of the kitchen with his hands up in surrender. “You know I love you, Claire, so don’t take this the wrong way, but I gotta side with Ethan. It looks like the aftermath of a zombie invasion.”

  “What did I tell you?” Ethan crowed over Claire’s head, then added to Jamie, “Remind me to give you an extra present under the Christmas tree later.”

  “Eww!” Claire swatted Ethan on her way out of the kitchen to stand behind me, covering my ears with her hands. “I think I speak for Tyler when I say neither one of us want to know what kind of present you’re going to give Jamie later. Am I right, Tyler?”