“Damn, she’s hotter than I remembered,” Josh said.
“You’re welcome.” I smiled at Josh. Then I hugged Katie and introduced her to Kyle and Lucy.
“Let’s get you a drink,” Josh said to her. They disappeared to the bar.
“We love Josh,” Lucy said. “I’m surprised some woman hasn’t snagged him up by now.”
“I don’t think he wants to be snagged.”
The three of us sat there discussing Lucy and Kyle’s upcoming wedding. It was happening on New Year’s Eve at the Marriott Marquis overlooking Times Square.
“Where did you guys meet?”
“Madison Square Garden,” Lucy said. “At a Billy Joel concert.”
“How romantic.”
We stayed at The Bubble Lounge for another hour. Then Josh decided he’d had enough champagne. He suggested we all go across the street to the Tribeca Tavern to shoot pool and drink “respectable beers.” I was really starting to feel like a fifth wheel. I thought about calling it a night. But it was my last night in the city, and I wanted to spend as much time with Josh as I could before leaving. So I went.
When we got to the Tavern, Katie excused herself to the bathroom. Josh and I went to the bar to get drinks.
“You did good, cuz. Katie’s really cool. And since you called her and I didn’t, it’s not like I broke the two-day rule.”
“You are such a freak. And speaking of freaks.”
“What?”
“Dalton called me today.” I don’t know why I felt the need to tell him. Maybe I was tipsy from the champagne. Maybe I just needed his advice. Maybe it was because I couldn’t stop thinking about Dalton no matter how hard I tried.
“Holy shit,” Josh said. “Well, you know you guys will end up back together. What did he say?”
“I don’t know. I deleted the message without listening to it.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to be back in that place. Emotionally, you know. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive him.”
“Fuck him, Sam. He doesn’t deserve you. Besides, you’re gonna move up here. Once you’re out of his sight, he’ll be out of your mind.”
“God, I love you.”
“I love you, too. I’d offer to beat him up for you, but you know, he’s Thor and I’m more of a Groot.”
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
“That’s because you don’t read comic books.”
Katie was back. We got our drinks and Josh got quarters for the pool table.
“Give me some of those,” I said. “I wanna play something on the jukebox.” I was still feeling like the odd-man out and just needed a minute to collect my thoughts.
Josh handed me a few quarters. I walked over to the jukebox as he, Katie, Kyle and Lucy commandeered the pool table. I stood there, pushing the button and flipping through various songs. I was starting to get really sad. This weekend had been a welcome retreat from my depression. Josh was my comic relief, and I was going to miss him terribly. And even though I was excited about seeing The Waiter tomorrow, I knew that once our day date had ended, I’d be flying back to Atlanta and back to a life I was dead set on escaping.
I stood there at the jukebox, perusing song after song. Suddenly, there was someone right next to me.
“Hello, Red.”
I looked up, hoping it was The Waiter. But it wasn’t. It was Drunk Darryl.
“Hi Darryl,” I said, managing a smile. “Everybody’s back there playing pool.”
He leaned in closer. “You know, you look just like the Little Mermaid.”
“Huh?”
“You know, Ariel. The Little Mermaid. With your red hair and big eyes and all.” Darryl did not understand the concept of personal space.
“Um, that’s sweet, but weird, Darryl. Why don’t you grab a beer and I’ll meet you back there with the others.”
I just wanted to get rid of him. I continued flipping through the musical selections. Then I found it. I laughed out loud as I fed quarters into the slot and selected the song. I couldn’t think of a happier way to end my last night in New York.
I wandered back to the pool table and grabbed a stool next to Katie. I found out she was originally from Connecticut and worked as an ER nurse at Columbia Presbyterian. She lived not too far from Josh on the Upper West Side. I told her the story about meeting The Waiter and confessed that I was getting a bit nervous about seeing him.
“What’s there to be nervous about?”
“I don’t know. What if he doesn’t show up?” I was starting to believe that our chance encounter and mutual attraction were too good to be true.
“He’ll show. And if he doesn’t, he’s a loser,” Katie said.
Lucy chimed in. “The good thing is that it’s a day date in a public place. It’s not like you’re waiting by yourself in a restaurant or bar.”
The conversation then turned to Josh and Katie. “So how did you and Josh meet?” Lucy asked.
“He impressed me with his karaoke skills last night at The Parlour.”
“Oh, if you think that was good, just wait until my song comes on,” I said.
“Why?” Katie asked.
“It’s a flashback. To our childhood.”
“What do you mean?”
“The only thing there was to do in our hick town was go to the roller-skating rink. This song was our anthem. Josh and I spent weeks learning all the words so we could sing along.”
The three of us sat there, sipping our martinis and watching Josh and Kyle play pool while Darryl annoyingly narrated every shot. It was almost one o’clock in the morning and I needed to head back to the hotel soon. I didn’t want to look like a total zombie the next day in case The Waiter actually showed up. I also wanted to take a shower before going to bed so I wouldn’t wake up smelling like smoke.
Then it happened. A cowbell, a conga drum and a high-hat cymbal. The thumping bass line of a familiar song crawled through the speakers. Josh immediately looked at me.
“Oh, no you didn’t!” An enormous smile spread across his face.
“Rapper’s Delight?” Katie asked. I nodded.
Suddenly Josh and I were eleven years old again. The pool stick became his microphone. He still knew all the words.
It wasn’t long before everyone joined the sing-along, which quickly turned into a dance party. I didn’t want the song to end. I didn’t want the night to end. I did, however, want to make my escape from Drunk Darryl who had somehow managed to make me his dancing partner.
Afterwards I said my goodbyes to everyone, promising Katie and Lucy I’d keep them updated on The Waiter and my potential move to the big city.
Josh walked me outside. “Call me after your big date tomorrow. We’ll grab lunch before you leave for the airport.”
“Will do,” I hugged him. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.” A cab pulled up. I hopped in and waved goodbye.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“Broadway and 77th, please.”
To my next New York minute.
CHAPTER 5
◆◆◆
I woke up early and, as they say in the south, nervous as all get-out. I wanted to give myself plenty of time to get ready for my date with The Waiter. That is, if he actually showed up. I also had to pack. I chugged a Gatorade and threw all my clothes onto the bed.
What if he does show up? That thought scared me more than if he didn’t. I hadn’t been on a date since I broke up with Dalton, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to see someone again. I wasn’t sure about anything. Except that I had to get dressed.
I decided to wear my new Jean Paul Gaultier halter top and maxi skirt. I bought it at a sample sale after my job interview on Thursday. It was comfortable and classic and just the right amount of sexy. And today I would wear flat sandals. I was afraid the clip-clop sound of my Maddens would be just as annoying to The Waiter as it was to Josh.
I finished packing an
d jumped in the shower. Afterwards, I spent a bit more time on my makeup than usual and pinned my hair up into a messy bun. It was now nine-thirty. I checked out of the hotel and left my luggage with the bellhop. I wanted to take one last stroll around the neighborhood. Plus, I didn’t want to arrive at the flea market too early and appear too eager. God, I sound like Josh.
The more I walked, the more I convinced myself that The Waiter wasn’t going to show. I figured I would just go to the market and enjoy it by myself, and then I’d meet Josh for a late lunch. I was already prepping myself for disappointment.
I turned back onto 77th Street and paused to look at all the quirky dishes in the window at Fishs Eddy. I wanted to go in and buy some to take home with me, but I had no room in my suitcase and I was afraid they would break, so I continued walking.
As I crossed Amsterdam, I heard laughter coming from the corner playground, which was already filled with neighborhood children. The flea market was just one block away, and I was beyond apprehensive. I took a deep breath and tried to distract myself by gazing at the beautiful brownstones lining the street. I imagined how wonderful it would be to live in one of them. But as each step brought me closer and closer to my destination, my legs turned to jello and my hands began to shake.
Then I saw him. He was leaning against the fence by the entrance. He was wearing a gray t-shirt, black track pants, and sneakers. A large backpack was hanging off his shoulder. He looked up and saw me coming.
“Hey, Red!” he yelled.
“Hi!” I smiled and waved as I walked towards him. He met me half-way.
“Morning beautiful.” He gave me a quick hug. He was taller than I remembered. Not as tall as Dalton, but close. His hair was still wet. It smelled like my Aveda candle. “You’re tiny,” he said, looking down at me.
“No, you’re just really tall and I’m wearing flats. Okay, I’m short.”
He laughed. “Come on, shorty. I’ll show you around.”
The market was behind a school and covered almost half the block. Hundreds of tents were lined up side-by-side with vendors selling everything from hand-carved soaps to vintage clothing to Persian rugs. There was also every type of food you could imagine. Baklava. Grilled corn. Mozzareppas. Egg rolls.
My senses were on overload from the smell of exotic food and incense. The sight of colorful silk pashminas and gilded antique mirrors that looked heavier than most cars. The sound of Sinatra singing “Fly Me To the Moon” on a vintage record player as a beautiful elderly couple danced inside the tent. And the touch of The Waiter’s hand on my back as he guided me through the market gave me chills.
“What do you think?”
“This place is amazing!” I said. “I’m not leaving here without one of those pashminas. Or a mozzareppa. Or four.”
The Waiter laughed. I was no longer nervous and felt relaxed. I picked up a light blue pashmina from one of the tables.
“So, you’re a writer,” he said.
“How did you know that?”
“Your business card.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Have you written any books?”
“Not yet. I definitely want to in the future. Right now I just write ad copy and content for various clients. And some freelance articles. I was in town interviewing for a position here in our corporate office.”
“You’re moving here?”
“If I get the job.”
“So there’s a chance I might see you again?”
“If I get the job,” I repeated.
“You’ll get it. Wait here. You have to try something. I’ll be right back.”
I was still holding the pashmina. I wrapped it around my shoulders. It was so soft. I had to have it. And I got one for Dana, too. I paid the vendor and stepped across to the mozzareppa stand.
“Two please.”
A few minutes later, The Waiter returned with two paper cups. “This is my favorite thing about the GreenFlea. Fresh grape juice. And it’s ice cold.”
I took a sip. It reminded me of taking communion as a kid in church and how I always wanted more because it tasted so sweet. But this was even better.
“Okay. That’s it. I’m never leaving. I will just live here at the flea market and drink grape juice and eat mozzareppas for the rest of my life.”
“You’re adorable,” he said. I handed him one of the mozzareppas and we continued to explore the market. He told me he grew up in Brooklyn and was from a large Italian family. His father was a doctor. His mom a history teacher. He was in the process of getting his MBA at Columbia. That’s why he was working at Pomodoro. The schedule was flexible and the money was great.
“Basically, I go to work, to school, and to the gym. That’s my life.”
“Where do you live?”
“The Ansonia. Broadway and 74th.”
“Do you have to work today?”
“Yea, but not until three. I wanna get to the gym around one and get a workout in, but I’ve got a couple of hours. What are your plans?”
“I’m meeting Josh later for lunch and then off to the airport.”
“Wanna go for a walk with me?”
“Sure. I just wanna pick up some of those soaps on the way out.”
I purchased four bars of mint soap as we were leaving. Then we walked over to Central Park. We took the exact same path that Josh and I had the day before.
“The scene of the crime,” I said, as we passed the spot where I first saw him.
“It’s my favorite place in the park,” he said. “It’s so peaceful.”
“Aside from the tacky tourists leering at you?”
“I was leering back.”
“Seriously?”
“I noticed your red hair. And then your legs. I assumed Josh was your boyfriend. I’m glad he wasn’t. He’s a funny guy.”
“I adore him. We’ve always been really close.”
We walked over to a nearby bench and sat down. I told him how Josh ended up in New York and how he’d been trying to get me to move here. The Waiter told me about growing up in Brooklyn with three brothers and one sister and how his five-hundred square foot studio now felt like a mansion because he had it all to himself.
The two of us sat there on the bench talking for what seemed like forever. Then my phone rang. I felt a familiar panic and assumed it was Dalton. That he somehow sensed I was happy at this very moment and felt the need to fuck it up. I pulled the phone out of my backpack and was relieved to see it was Josh.
“How’s it going with lover boy?”
“Fine,” I replied, hoping The Waiter didn’t hear him. “We’re in Central Park. What time do you wanna meet?”
“Half hour? At Big Nick’s?”
I looked down at my watch and realized it was half past noon. “Okay. See you there.” I hung up and looked at The Waiter.
“I’ll walk you back,” he said. “I need to catch the M7 bus at Amsterdam and head up to the gym.”
We got up and began walking out of the park.
“So, is there a boyfriend waiting for you back home?”
“God, no!”
He laughed. “You just said that like you have the plague or something. Like nobody would ever date you.”
“I did have the plague. I broke up with him.”
“Ouch,” he said as we walked up to Central Park West. The traffic light was about to change. He grabbed my hand. “Come on, we can make this light.”
We ran across the street just in time. When we reached the other side, I expected him to let go of my hand. He didn’t. We were just slowly strolling hand-in-hand past the Museum of Natural History. But not slow enough. I knew I only had two more blocks to enjoy that rare sensation of holding hands with someone you like for the first time. Especially someone you knew you wouldn’t see again for a long time.
“When will you find out about the job?” he asked as we crossed over Columbus.
“Within a couple of weeks I think.” We passed the entrance to the market. “Thanks for tu
rning me on to the GreenFlea.”
“I love this place,” he said. “I’m here every Sunday.”
We continued walking until we got to Amsterdam, stopping right in front of Vermouth Lounge.
“Wait with me until the bus comes? If you can, I mean. The M7 takes forever.”
“Sure,” I replied. He was still holding my hand.
“I can’t believe I just met you and now you’re leaving me.” He leaned against the one-way signpost.
“I know. I still can’t get over the fact that you were our waiter last night. That’s crazy.”
“Yeah, what are the odds?” There was a nervous silence. Then he looked down at me. “God, you have the most amazing eyes.”
“Thank you.” I looked up at him.
He put his arms around my waist and pulled me in to him. Oh my god, he’s going to kiss me! He’s totally going to kiss me! And then he did. Right there on the corner, right underneath the crosswalk sign, he kissed me. His lips were full and soft and he tasted like grape juice. I could hear the children playing in the background. Then I heard the sound of the bus approaching.
“Fuck!” he screamed and threw his head back. “The one time I want the bus to be late it’s on time.”
He kissed my forehead. “I’ll call you this week, okay?” I nodded. Then he ran across the street toward the bus stop. He turned around and yelled at me. “Later Sammy with a ‘y’ like a guy!”
I laughed and waved. He smiled. Then he disappeared into the bus.
As I crossed over Amsterdam, I giggled. I actually giggled. I was still sad to be leaving New York, especially now, but I knew I’d be re-living this moment over and over until I saw him again.
And I was determined to see him again.
CHAPTER 6
◆◆◆
“Details,” Dana said as I got in the car. “I want every goddamn detail.”
I was back in Atlanta. Dana and I were leaving the airport en route to El Azteca, our favorite Mexican restaurant on Ponce, which just happened to be stumbling distance from my apartment.
The Waiter Page 3