Leah didn’t seem as intimidated as Rachel had hoped. “She mentioned something about it. After I’ve been here a few months.”
“Awesome!” She gave Rachel another perky smile, then keyed her code in to the register and began ringing up more customers. Rachel moved beside her and held out her hand for the cup she was marking, intent on showing her she could keep up with the orders.
Rachel’s mind did not stay on the espresso machine, however. It was on The Moment of Truth, the time when Leah would ask The Question, try to initiate The Conversation, and Rachel would be forced to admit that she not only knew a lot about Christianity, but she had been a devout one until recently. Rachel knew how the game was played. She’d done it with new employees, new neighbors, customers she’d known for a long time. Leah’s wheels were likely already turning. Rachel would never be just another coworker, or just her manager, or just her friend. She’d be that Lost Soul Who Needs Jesus. Like Julia had been to her, Rachel would be Leah’s project. Rachel could just imagine Leah’s prayers before bed that night as she journaled in her cloth-covered notebook—she was definitely the cloth-covered notebook type. Thank you for the opportunity to work with Rachel, Father! Please give me an opportunity to tell her about you. She’d never think to pray for them to just be friends. Which was just as well, since Rachel wasn’t about to repopulate her social circle with the kinds of people she’d left California to avoid.
She handed off another drink and picked up the next cup. As she tamped the grounds into the portafilter, she shot a glance at Jack, who was putting together a turkey sandwich. Now he was the kind of person Rachel wanted to get to know. Friendly, chivalrous, attractive—and a great kisser. She wondered if Leah had tried working her conversion charm on him yet.
Leah finished ringing up customers and began to clean up the mess Rachel made at the base of the espresso machine as Rachel put the finishing touches on a chai latte. Her conscience cringed as she watched Leah from the corner of her eye. She was aware of the fact that she was doing the very thing she’d just condemned in her head—not liking Leah for who she was—but without the religious motivation. Old habits really were hard to break.
She handed the drink to the waiting customer, then took a deep breath and summoned her inner Daphne. Live and let live. Tolerance to all. So what if she’s a religious freak? It’s a free country. I’ll show her I can be just as nice and friendly as she is, without a hidden agenda. She grabbed a stack of cups from the side counter and restocked the supply next to the machine. “Thanks for clearing my station, Leah; I appreciate it.”
“Oh, not a problem. Man, you’re fast with the drinks. I’m impressed!”
“Oh, thanks. Just had a lot of practice, that’s all.” The three of them dodged around each other as they refilled coffee pots and cleaned countertops between customers, chatting and joking all the while. Not wanting to be stuck on drink duty forever, Rachel excused herself after a bit to ask Ruby Jean if someone could train her on the register before the next rush. Ruby Jean roped Jack into the task, and for a while Rachel’s mind was too preoccupied to wander.
Late in the afternoon a cluster of five collegiate-looking types walked in and called to Leah as she cleaned the sandwich station. “Hey guys,” she said, then leaned over the counter to kiss one of the preppy boys in the front. Rachel found herself breathing a sigh of relief.
Leah chatted with the group as she started marking cups with everyone’s orders. Rachel wasn’t eavesdropping, but her ears still picked up “worship service” and “Bible study” from the conversation they were murmuring at the register. She glanced at Jack, who caught her eye, looked to the group, then back at Rachel with a roll of his eyes. Rachel smirked. She shouldn’t have been so concerned about Leah stealing Jack—girls like her would never date a non-Christian. Oh well. Leah’s loss.
o
After Jack and Rachel punched out together he led her to his F-250 in the back parking lot. “Thanks again,” she said as they pulled out to the street. “You’re saving my back from a week’s worth of chiropractic appointments—which is good, since I don’t even have a chiropractor yet.”
“Glad I could help. It’s not often I get to play the knight in shining armor.”
“So, I’m starving. What did you have in mind for dinner?”
He laughed. “A woman after my own heart.” He sped through a yellow light and swerved into the right lane for the next turn. “Have you had any proper Chicago-style pizza yet?”
Rachel nodded. “Back in California. There are a few restaurants that do deep-dish pizza. That’s what you mean, right?”
“Well … I don’t think I’d trust Californians to know what they’re doing when it comes to authentic Chicago deep-dish.”
She smiled. “I didn’t know it was such a specific recipe.”
“Oh yes. There are two distinct styles—stuffed and deep dish—and about four different chains out here that insist they’re doing it the true Chicago way. We’ll have to make sure you try them all so you can make an informed opinion.”
“Well, I would hate to be accused of ignorance when it came to pizza. Where shall we start?”
The restaurant was called Edwardo’s, home of Jack’s favorite, the spinach-stuffed pizza. By the time they entered the foyer after lugging all the various parts of Rachel’s bed up to the apartment, she thought she’d faint from the heavenly smell. Their waitress set down a basket of what looked like thin pizza dough baked and broken into pieces when she brought their sodas. “This is croccante,” Jack said as he grabbed a handful. “It’s really addicting, so don’t ruin your appetite.”
“Not a chance—I’m running on fumes right now. I might even have room for dessert, I’m that hungry.”
He shook his head. “You won’t want dessert, trust me. The pizza will take every spare inch of room you have.”
Their conversation followed the typical style of first-date Q and A, but with a weird undertone of intimacy Rachel could only assume stemmed from the fact that they’d already kissed. He had a sister and lived on the other side of the university from Rachel and Daphne. He’d gone to Indiana University and graduated with a degree in athletic training. “Do you play any sports, or just want to treat people who do?” Rachel asked.
He made a face. “Well, I used to. I pitched baseball in high school and for three years in college, but then I tore my flexor mass muscle and ulnar collateral ligament.” He traced a finger along the inside of his elbow and Rachel winced.
“Oh no, that’s awful.”
He nodded. “Yeah, it was. Threw me for a loop, because I’d been hoping to go pro eventually. There were a couple scouts showing interest my junior year, but once I had the surgery I just couldn’t perform anymore. A psychological thing, I think.” He shrugged and popped some more croccante in his mouth. Rachel caught a vibe that told her the subject was closed, which was confirmed when he said, “So how about you? Did you go to college in California?”
“Yep.”
“And? Where?”
She waved her hand. “A little college you probably wouldn’t have heard of. It’s private.”
“The information or the school?”
She laughed. “The school. And, I suppose, the information. For now, anyway.”
He grinned. “You women … always with your mystery.”
She wagged her eyebrows but said nothing. He laughed. “Can you tell me what you majored in, or is that classified as well?”
Rachel grinned. “Secondary education, minored in history.”
“High school teacher? That’s brave. What made you decide to sling coffee instead?”
“Just couldn’t find a job. Then I got promoted to manager and … here I am.”
“Lucky us.”
Rachel felt her cheeks redden and steered the conversation to a less personal topic. But by the time Jack drove her home, with a new favorite pizza and the promise of a second date, she’d begun to think she was the lucky one.
Thin
gs were finally looking up.
o
“I saw your bed!” Daphne said when Rachel walked in. “I’m so glad you made it back here in time! I’m so sorry; Paul totally pulled rank on me.” Daphne tacked on a couple choice names for him to show just how mad she was as she pulled Rachel into an apologetic hug.
“Well, actually, I didn’t make it back in time. But it’s okay because I got a date out of it.”
Daphne let out a squeal and pulled Rachel to the couch with a command to divulge every detail. Apparently kissing and telling was a standard in Daphne’s world. Rachel told her everything, from his sweet apology for kissing her in Vegas to meeting Leah, which had Daphne fascinated.
“It’s like you’re a double agent or something. You know all her tactics! How does it feel?”
“Weird, honestly. I mean, you’re right, it’s like I know what the motivation will be behind certain conversations or questions. But really it just makes me sad to think that I was like that for so long, that I saw everyone as a target and not just as a person.”
“It sucks, doesn’t it?”
Her words hit home. “Daphne, I’m so sorry I was like that with you. I mean, I think it was a little different with us, because we’d known each other for so long and really were friends. But I know that I was pushy with you over religion. Thanks for not dumping me.”
Daphne laughed and wrapped Rachel in another hug. “It’s okay, really. You and your family were there for me more than anyone else my whole life, and it was kind of sweet, in a way, to know you cared so much about my immortal soul.” Her eyes twinkled. “But it’s fun knowing you’re on my side now.” She stood and made a grand gesture toward the kitchen. “And so we shall toast! To your first date as a new woman with a new life and a new attitude.” She made a dash for the pantry, then rummaged for a moment before extracting a bottle of vodka.
Rachel was excited at the prospect of a drink. “What are we having this time?”
“Vodka and Coke. Vodka is my personal fave for mixed drinks.” A generous amount of vodka was poured into one glass, and then a modest splash into the other. “We’ll start you off slow.” She topped both with Coke and handed a tumbler to Rachel and raised hers with a flourish. “To Rachel and her day of firsts—first day of work, first encounter with a Christian, and her first date. Oh, and her first vodka! May all the rest of your firsts go as smoothly.”
They clinked their glasses, and Rachel tried not to look too eager as she took her first sip. “This tastes good.”
“What did I tell you?” Daphne finished off her tumbler and took out another Coke. “Here, finish yours and I’ll give you a stronger one.”
Rachel swallowed the rest and Daphne concocted another one, this time adding about as much vodka into it as she did into hers.
“You don’t have to have another one, Daph.”
“Of course I do! I’m not gonna let you drink alone!” She gave Rachel a crinkly-nosed grin and handed her the tumbler. “Try that.”
She took a sip and was hit quickly with the taste of alcohol. “Whoa.”
“Too strong?”
“Well …” She took another sip, slightly longer than the first. Warmth spread through her stomach and her throat twinged. “Not too strong, but I definitely can’t drink this as quickly as I did the first one.”
“No reason to pound it down anyway. What shall we do now?” She tapped a finger to her chin in classic Daphne style. “Oh! Let’s go put the sheets on your bed and admire your room all put together. You’ll need somewhere to crash if the alkie does you in.”
Rachel laughed. “What, don’t think I’ll be able to handle it?”
“Well … I didn’t say that. I’ll bet you have a stomach of steel after all those years of milk and coffee.”
They tossed more verbal jabs as they unpacked the sheets from Rachel’s suitcase. Her tumbler was drained in three minutes, and not long after Rachel noticed she had started to feel strange.
“Hey.” She turned her head from left to right. “When I do this, it’s like the world isn’t keeping up with my eyes.” She turned again and her vision blurred along for a second before snapping into place.
Daphne giggled. “You look like you’re watching a tennis match in slow-motion.”
“I … hey now.” Her mouth was working in slow motion too, it seemed. “You gave me a lot of vvvodka.”
“Wow.” Daphne’s tone was one of wonder. “It’s really getting to you. Your stomach isn’t made of steel at all. Do you feel sick?”
“Sick? No. Not sick. Just … slow.”
“Well, that’s good.” She gave Rachel’s knee a pat. “You’ll build up a tolerance—don’t worry.”
Rachel let out an accidental snort, which sent her into a fit of giggles, which sent Daphne into a similar state.
Still laughing, Daphne said, “Now. I still need dinner, so—”
“Wait—you had two drinks on an empty stomach?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Wow. You have a stomach of steel.”
“And buns, too, but not for the same reason.”
It took Rachel a minute to process the joke, but when she did her laughter shook the bed.
“I’m going to make a sandwich. Want anything?”
“No. You wouldn’t believe how much pizza I ate tonight.”
Daphne left for the kitchen. Rachel stared at the ceiling as it seemed to slowly rotate, and after a while her stomach felt like it was rotating too. Fifteen minutes later she was, as Daphne put it, making her first sacrifice to the porcelain gods.
“Don’t worry—it gets easier,” Daphne assured her as she trudged back to her bed. Her words weren’t the comfort she probably meant them to be.
Chapter 12
July brought Rachel to the end of her first month in Chicago. The oppressive heat drove customers into All Together Now in record numbers, even with the majority of the university population missing for the summer. Her paychecks were hard-earned, and her time off—what little of it she got—was too sweet to be squandered in her stuffy apartment that lacked air-conditioning. She poked around Chicago’s tourist attractions (when they offered climate control) and visited the other independent coffee shops in the city. In a fit of creativity she painted all her consignment store furniture a deep plum and splurged on a new bedspread to replace her old one. She even played around with the idea of tutoring in an attempt to put her degree to use.
But most of her free time was spent with Jack, who took it upon himself to educate her in the city’s pizza tradition and make sure she was never without entertainment on the afternoons and evenings they were both off work. One of their first outings was to the Billy Goat Tavern, where Jack had to explain both the Chicago Cubs’ “Curse of the Billy Goat” and the Saturday Night Live skit that was inspired by the tavern’s cheeseburger-hawking cooks. “I can’t believe you’ve never seen SNL,” he said while they finished off their chips.
“I don’t watch a lot of television. And it’s on at eleven-thirty in California; I was never up that late.”
“Not a night owl, hm?”
“Not unless something has me really engaged, no. And I’m a wreck the next day if I don’t get eight hours.”
“I’ll have to remember that.” He wrote with his finger in an invisible notebook and muttered, “No late-night dates on work nights.”
Another date took them to a Second City improv show. “To continue your introduction to Chicago’s contribution to popular culture,” Jack said. “Jim Belushi, Bill Murray, Mike Myers—they all got their start there. You do know who they are, right?”
Rachel socked him on the arm. “I’m not that uncultured.”
“Oh good.” He wiped his brow in relief. “So you’ve seen Blues Brothers, right? And Wayne’s World?”
She bit her lip and gave him a sheepish look.
Jack groaned. “You are that uncultured. That’s our next date. You bring the popcorn, I’ll bring the movies.”
She di
d, and it was her first time visiting his apartment, which he shared with two grad students named Stefan and Dale. “Dude, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Stefan said when he happened on them in the kitchen salting the popcorn.
“Oh, I’m not his girlfriend,” Rachel said, then froze. She wasn’t, right? She glanced at Jack. He winked.
o
“What does that mean?” she asked Daphne about the awkward interaction later that evening.
Daphne laughed as she mixed Rachel’s first Harvey Wallbanger. “You didn’t ask him?”
“I was embarrassed. I didn’t know what to ask.”
“How about, ‘So, what exactly are we, anyway?’”
“That would have been good. I didn’t think of that.” She tasted the drink and wrinkled her nose.
“Too strong?”
“No, I’m just not a huge fan of orange juice.”
Daphne laughed. “So tell me—do you want to be Jack’s girlfriend? You sure spend a lot of time with him.”
Rachel took another sip and shrugged. “I don’t know. I like him, obviously. I think I’m just nervous about jumping into another relationship.”
“Do you like him enough to want to date him for years and years? Because if you don’t, then he’s perfect for your rebound relationship.”
“But we’re together at work nearly every day. How ugly will it be when we break up?”
Daphne waved her hand dismissively. “Totally depends on why you break up. If he dumps you—well, then I’ll kill him, and you won’t have to worry about it.” She grinned, and Rachel rolled her eyes. “Look, breakups don’t have to be bad. If it’s mutual it won’t be a big deal. And if he does dump you, you can be adult about it and show him you’re not going to pine after him—which may very well bring him crawling back. Guys are suckers for a woman who so obviously doesn’t care when she gets dumped. And if you want to dump him—well, yes, that might be tricky, but if you do it right then there should be no hard feelings.”
She put the cap back on the Galliano and put the juice back in the fridge as she talked. “The key is not to overanalyze, especially when you’re in a rebound relationship. If you keep it light, then he’ll keep it light.” She raised her glass. “Here’s to living in the moment!”
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