All That's Left

by Ward Anderson

  The irony of the fact that he’s thinking this while standing in front of a Hooters is not lost on him.

  Scotty loved Hooters, so it surprises Steven to find that this Dania woman doesn’t work there. He knows his brother dated his share of Hooters waitresses in Toronto. And by “dated” Steven really means “slept with.” He and Scotty used to go there all the time when they first went to the University of Toronto. Scotty kept at it long after Steven thought the novelty had worn off. Eventually, Scotty must have tired of it, as well, because it is not at Hooters that Dania works, but at a place called The Shark Fin, directly next door.

  On the outside, The Shark Fin looks like any of the other dozens of bars and seafood restaurants along the river. It’s got bright lights on the outside and a sandwich board out front advertising drink and menu specials. Here you can get mahimahi for only fourteen dollars Singapore, which is only ten bucks in Canadian. There’s also a special on margaritas. Since Steven makes a living pairing booze with food, he shudders a bit when he thinks of this combination. It sounds awful. Still, the restaurant is nicely lit on the inside and obviously a little more upscale than it appears outside. He wonders if they actually serve shark fin on the menu. He’d heard you couldn’t get it anymore.

  Walking in the front door, Steven takes off his aviator sunglasses and switches them with his usual, horn-rimmed eyeglasses with matching prescription. He can get by—if only barely—without either of them, but he feels naked when he’s not wearing one or the other. Yet another thing he and Scotty never had in common.

  He feels the air-conditioning hit his face and pauses for a minute to enjoy it. It’s the same pause he takes each time he walks into any building in the entire city. He is pleased to see he won’t have to do much searching for Dania, since the woman in the photo is standing about five feet in front of him. Leaning on the hostess’s stand, writing notes in a reservation book, she is taller than he thought she would be. In the photo with Scotty, she must not be wearing shoes because, in the heels she has on right now, she’s easily three inches taller than he. Her short black skirt does not do a good job of covering what is a very strong-looking pair of legs.

  She really is beautiful.

  Steven doesn’t approach her immediately, but stands in the doorway for a minute, giving her a once-over. She’s attractive in a unique way, and he can’t quite figure out what it is about her that he finds so interesting to look at. She’s slender and has clear, dark skin, and obviously takes care of herself. But it’s not as simple as her being fit and pretty. She has a commanding presence and seems in control of everything around her, even though she’s just a hostess in a restaurant. The best way to put it is how his father would have: She comes off as one tough broad.

  “You must be Dania,” Steven says as he finally walks in. He makes certain not to speak too loudly so as not to startle her. She still has her head in the reservation book when she raises her eyebrows and then, after a couple of seconds, looks up and makes eye contact. She looks at Steven for a second and then squints her eyes.

  “No,” she says, and shakes her head. There is a slight accent when she speaks, but it’s not Singaporean or any type of Asian dialect. It sounds almost British. “I’m sorry. She’s not working today. Can I help you?”

  “Oh? You’re not she?”

  “No, sir. But I get that all the time.”

  Steven stands there for a minute with his eyebrows digging downward. For a second, he wonders if he and Scotty aren’t the only twins to hang out in this restaurant in the past week. He drums his fingers on the hostess stand just once and then reaches in his sports jacket pocket. He takes out the silver pen that Scotty gave him as a present when they turned thirty. “I’m sorry, my mistake. Do you know when she’ll be here?”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the hostess says. “I can’t give out that kind of information.”

  “Of course, I understand.” Steven smiles. “Do you think I could leave her a message?”

  “Of course.” She tears a sheet of paper out of the back of the reservation book and hands it to Steven.

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Terrific.” Steven scribbles a note on the piece of paper, folds it in half, and writes FOR DANIA ONLY on the backside. Then he hands the paper back to her and smiles. “I really do appreciate it.”

  “No problem,” she says. “I’ll make sure she gets it.”

  “That’s great. Thanks so much for your help.”

  “May I tell her who asked?” She raises her eyebrow, still holding the note out as if it may catch fire at any moment.

  “Oh, she’ll know,” Steven says, and raises a finger to his forehead as a polite salute. He smiles one last time and, putting on his sunglasses while then putting his regular glasses in their case, steps back out into the early evening waiting outside. Looking over his left shoulder, he sees another person in the distance, hurtling to earth and then bouncing back up, laughing and screaming at the same time. He looks for the nearest available restaurant where he can sit outside and be very conspicuous and easily seen. Unfortunately, that place is Hooters, and it’s hardly the place that Steven wants to visit anywhere else, let alone in Singapore City.

  What are the odds of getting a glass of wine that isn’t complete swill? he thinks with a wince. He sighs to himself, accepts his fate, and walks up to where the tackiness lives.

  Stepping up to the outdoor patio, Steven makes eye contact with a waitress wearing a tight white tank top and skimpy orange shorts. Not only does the Hooters restaurant look just like they do back home, but the employee uniform is still exactly the same as it has always been. Steven figures that’s exactly why it’s successful. He knows it’s exactly why Scotty was a loyal customer. A very attractive, surprisingly busty young woman offers back a deliberately sexy smile and waves to him.

  “Sit anywhere you like.” She extends a hand to the patio, which has all but two tables available. Steven takes a small one right at the very back of the patio, up against the water. With his back to the river, he has a great view of the Riverwalk and the people walking from one end to the other. He wonders how many of them are travelers and how many are locals. Although this is obviously a big tourist trap, he’s certain that many locals develop a love for some of it. It can’t just be traveling businessmen who have dinner here or at G. Golly Molly’s.

  “Hey, there.” The same sexy Hooters waitress who greeted him when he entered walks up and puts a cocktail napkin on the table in front of him. “I’m Jasmine. You from out of town?”

  “What gave it away?” Steven says. Jasmine laughs as if he actually said something funny.

  “Where you from?” she asks.

  “Toronto.”

  “Canada!”

  “That’s the one.”

  “That’s great,” she says, and smiles. “I love Canada.”

  “Ever been?” Steven asks.

  “Not yet. One day.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

  “Sounds good.” She laughs again. “Can I get you a beer or something?”

  “What red wine do you have?” he asks, pretending to look at the two-page paper menu he picks up off the table.

  “I don’t know. We only have one. No one ever asks for it.”

  “First time for everything, I guess.”

  “No food?”

  “Nope. Just the award-winning wine you have.”

  “Okay, be right back.”

  Steven watches her walk away and wonders again if there are any ugly women in Singapore. From the hotel to Hooters, he’s run into nothing but gorgeous women everywhere he goes. Sure, he expects to find hot women at Hooters but, at this rate, he’s expecting to see a homeless woman who could be a swimsuit model. He wonders if it’s really possible that Scotty had only one girlfriend in this city.

  A full three minutes later, Jasmine returns with a tiny wineglass with some red substance in it that some people would call wine. Steven
thanks her and raises the glass in a toast. To her credit, Jasmine giggles and winks and essentially makes Steven blush before she walks over to a table of three other men and starts talking to them. Steven cringes as the wine burns his lips, tongue, and then throat. He finds himself instantly missing D.Wash and The Blue Bayou.

  When the hostess from The Shark Fin comes storming over, Steven looks down at his watch. It’s been just over ten minutes since he left and came over to Hooters. She makes a beeline to his table, where she stops and stands, three feet in front of him, with her arms folded across her chest.

  “What took you so long?” Steven asks.

  “What the hell is this?” the hostess says, and holds out the sheet of paper that he left for Dania.

  “That’s a note for Dania,” he says, and sips his wine.

  “Yeah, I can see that.” She tosses the paper onto the table. Steven smiles as he unfolds it and reads what he wrote inside:

  I will be waiting outside when you are tired of lying to me, Dania.

  “But you weren’t supposed to read this.” He looks innocently up at her. “This note was only for Dania.”

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “Because you came outside looking for me after reading a note that was addressed specifically to Dania.”

  “I’m serious.” She practically stamps her foot. Steven almost finds it cute. If he weren’t annoyed at being lied to, he’d probably smile.

  “Are you a twin? Do you have a twin sibling?” he asks.

  “No.”

  “Well, I am, and I can always tell when someone knows my brother. Because, when they see me for the first time, they’re always a little stunned. Like they’re seeing double. Which they are. It’s the same look you just gave me. Looking at something that seems familiar, yet isn’t.” Steven chuckles to himself. He’s gotten used to people looking at him like they’ve already met even when he is first introduced to them.

  “So you knew I was lying just by the way I looked at you?”

  “Not really.”

  “Yeah? Then how?”

  Steven reaches into his jacket pocket, takes out the photo of Scotty and Dania, and then tosses it on the table. “I already knew what you looked like.”

  Dania looks at the photo on the table, then up at Steven. Her eyes look cold. “Clever,” she says.

  “Not really.”

  “I forgot about that picture.”

  “Apparently. Have a seat?” Steven extends a hand toward the chair on the other side of the table.

  Dania stands there for a minute, thinking it over. The look on her face isn’t one of annoyance as much as it is caution. She looks over her shoulder back at The Shark Fin, then at the Hooters waitress in the other direction. She gives Steven a long, hard stare and then finally sits. Steven takes another sip of his wine and takes a second to admire her long, black hair. It goes all the way down to the middle of her back. He thinks it must be a real chore to get it that shiny.

  “Why did you lie to me?” he asks.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, and appears to mean it.

  “I’ll get over it if you can tell me why. In that photo you seem pretty happy with my brother.”

  She looks up at him, and her eyes are suddenly sad. “I was.”

  “Then why?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugs and looks down at her hands. They appear strong, despite the perfectly manicured nails. “Things aren’t so good here right now. At work, I mean. Plus I thought if you were mad at me and caused a scene . . . I can’t afford to lose that job.”

  Steven looks at her for a few seconds before he speaks. “Did you kill my brother?”

  The shock on Dania’s face is the only answer he needs, but she gives him one anyway. “God, no! I would never . . . I loved Scotty.”

  Steven smirks for a brief second. Nobody called his brother “Scotty” but him—none of their friends or family members, not even “The Fiancées.”

  “Then why do you think I’d be mad at you?” he asks.

  “I don’t know,” Dania says, and looks down at her fingers again, fidgeting with her nails. “I mean, we never met before or spoke, and then Scotty just—”

  She doesn’t finish the sentence, nor does she seem like she’s even thinking about it. She just stares at her fingernails and then over her shoulder toward the other restaurants along the river. Steven doesn’t say anything, but he makes certain no one on the patio is watching them. In the background he hears “Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree.”

  “I mean . . . Jesus!” she says, and clears her throat. “You look like him. I just didn’t know what to say. I just saw him a few days ago and then . . .” She looks back up at Steven and stares right through him. “You look. Just. Like. Him.”

  “You never saw a photo of me? Nothing?” Steven asks.

  “Nothing. When you walked up, I just didn’t know what to do. It’s been really hard, you know. Since . . .”

  “I know,” Steven says, quieter than he meant for it to come out. He waits a second for her to make eye contact with him again. From her pocket, she pulls a tiny square of Kleenex and dabs her eyes with it. A minute later, she looks as if nothing out of the ordinary happened at all. Steven is glad, because watching her tear up almost makes him feel like crying, too.

  She is striking. Sitting here, he really gets a good, long look at her. The sleek legs; the stunning cleavage peeking through the white button-up shirt that hugs her body; the beautiful hair. Even when she speaks, her slightly British accent is very seductive. Steven figures it took Scotty all of five minutes to fall for her.

  “What can you tell me about Scotty?” he finally asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “About that night? I don’t want you to get upset. I just want to know what happened.”

  “I don’t know. We were having a good time. Everything was great. And then it just suddenly hit him. It all—”

  “—It all happened so fast. I heard.”

  “You spoke to D.Wash?” she asks, and Steven nods. Dania smiles and nods her head back at him. “He’s a sweetheart. He’s a good man.”

  “I caught that.”

  Dania cracks her knuckles, but Steven doesn’t hear it. He looks over his shoulder for a second at the water. The sound of another bungee jumper is in one ear and the sounds of rocking Christmas tunes are in the other. When it gets like this, it’s actually perfect. Background music never seems to bother him, and loud groups just become white noise after a while. It’s the little things that drive him crazy. The tiny noises. He often welcomes the music and the cheering. Enough noise will drown out the sounds of people chewing. Or slurping their beers. Or—God forbid—belching. Hating the sound of belching has nothing to do with misophonia. Steven just thinks it’s crass.

  “So, no one saw it coming?” he asks. “He just fell down dead?” Dania’s face drops, and Steven holds up his hand as an apology. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so blunt like that.”

  “S’okay,” she says. “But, yeah. It was just like that.” She looks down at her hands again. “It was awful.”

  Steven takes a small sip of his wine. He thinks of ordering another, but he doesn’t think Hooters is where he wants to order it. He wonders if there’s a nice wine bar on the Riverwalk. “Do you know anyone named Mick? Someone Scotty might have known?”

  “Not that I know of. Why do you ask?”

  He tells her about the piece of paper with the names and various numbers. The look on her face tells him that she has no idea what he’s talking about. “I don’t remember his knowing anyone by that name,” she says. “And he didn’t owe anyone money.”

  “Was he trying to buy a car?”

  “He was afraid of cars.”

  She really did know him well, Steven thinks.

  “Do you have any idea why he came to me looking for money?” he asks.

  “He did?”

  “Yeah, last week.”

  “I really can’t say. He d
idn’t need it.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  He reaches in his pocket and takes out the photo of the teenage boy. He slides it across the table and, without any reaction, she takes a look at it. “Do you know who this is?” he asks.

  “No, I don’t. Who is it?”

  “I don’t know. I found it in Scotty’s apartment.”

  “Maybe it came with a picture frame,” she says, and smiles. Steven returns the smile and chuckles lightly.

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “It’s an old photo,” she says. “Scotty hasn’t lived here that long. It’s probably nothing.”

  “Maybe not, but Scotty kept very little. When he did, it was because it was something important to him.”

  “If an old photo is so important to him, then why is this the only one?”

  Steven shrugs. She has a good point. Here he is walking around with a photograph that, for all he knows, Scotty found somewhere and uses as a bookmark.

  “How long are you staying?” she asks.

  “Just today. Then I go back to Toronto.”

  “And Scotty?”

  “Him, too,” Steven says, and catches himself. “His ashes.” Dania nods her head, and Steven is surprised that this doesn’t seem to faze her whatsoever. He expected a little shock or even a few tears.

  “Do you want them?” he asks her. After all, she was the girlfriend in his life.

  “God, no.” She looks at him as if he just punched her in the face. “No, I don’t want that at all.”

  Steven holds up his hands in surrender. “Just thought I’d ask.”

  “Thank you, but no. I will miss your brother. Dearly. But I don’t want his ashes. He was enough trouble already.”

  “Trouble? How do you mean?”

  Dania lets out a long sigh and runs a hand through her hair. “Trouble in that he was a crazy, Canadian white boy who went and got me all crazy, too. He had a look that made me want to do everything for him. But he was all over the place. He was very special, but he was a handful. Do you understand?”