Crashing Into You (14 page)

“Leaving already?” She pressed
her lips together. I really wanted to know what she was thinking.

“Yeah, we have to get back,”
I said, even though we had nowhere to be for the rest of the day. “It was nice
to meet you.” I put out my hand, again.

“You too.” This time she
shook it, albeit a little too hard. Lukas stayed back, like always, and headed
down the steps.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?”
I asked.

“Yeah, for sure,” Michelle
said.

I followed Lukas to the
bottom of the staircase, and glanced back at Melanie’s younger sister, one last
time. She crossed her arms, and rested her back up against the cement wall. Her
sunglasses made it so that she could have been looking anywhere, but I felt her
gaze bearing into my skin, like a laser beam.

She was staring right at me.

Chapter 16

When I tripped and stubbed my
toe on the lone step leading up to the second tier of crowded tables, I almost
threw my notepad down and stormed out of the restaurant crying. My mom always
told me being a waitress was a great summer job because, “the customers,
usually the men, give good tips, and the hours fly by faster than a day at the
beach.” I found these reasons false and misinformed, given that my only big tip
of the night had come from a young Chinese woman, and that nothing ticked by
slower than time spent sprawled out on the hot sand. I took the job at
Frederito’s Pizza in Marina Del Rey hoping it would be a fun, laid back summer
job. Unfortunately, I was already eyeing the donut shop across the street for
potential employment—and it was still only June.
   

“There’s avocado on this,” one
of the customers said, four hours into my shift.

“You ordered the Mexican pizza,
sir. It comes with avocado.”

“But I don’t like the
texture.”

“Can’t you just pick it off?”

He tilted his head down, but
kept his beady eyes focused on me. “Excuse me?”

I picked up his pizza and
forced a lame smile. “I apologize, sir. I'll get this taken care of right away.”

I carried the tray with the
perfectly delectable pizza to the back of the restaurant.

“Ma’am, can I get a refill on
this?” another customer asked, to my left. She shook a cup of ice real fast and
loud.
 

“Yes, just a moment,” I said.

“Waiter!” yet another
customer said, to my right. “My son needs another juice cup!”

I wanted to politely remind
the fellow that I was a woman, not a man, but I simply nodded, and kept
walking. When I reached the back, I brushed the avocado slices off the pizza
into the trash can, but caught the last one in my hand and let it drop into my
mouth.

“Sydney, table thirteen,” Wanda,
the oldest waitress at the restaurant, said, as she sprinted by me.

“Sure thing!” I shouted back
at her, rolling my eyes. “Lucky number thirteen, I'm on it!”

I grabbed the juice cup, the
pitcher of iced tea, and the avocado-less pizza, and headed back to the
trenches, armed with a big, plucky grin that I hoped would ward off all
enemies. My grin was impressive, especially given that it had only been six
weeks since Melanie’s death and I was still having my good days and bad. Today
had been one of the better ones, partly because the customers’ behavior was
diverting my attention to other horrors.

I had tried to have a fun,
carefree summer. Lukas did his best keeping me entertained. Darts,
Devil Wears Prada
, double fudge brownie
baking—all were nightly staples in the Canterbury Apartments, unit 106.
 
I didn’t know how I would have survived
the first half of the summer without Lukas. He was my adoring light when it got
dark, my source of comfort when I had my nightmares. And he never complained,
not when I voiced my regret, not when I said things like, “I wish it had been
me.” He was too good to be true, and at times I didn't think I deserved him. Last
Monday he started a new job as a production assistant on the Food Network show
Cupcake Wars
—“the next best thing
from working for Christopher Nolan!” he pointed out—and I was suddenly
more alone than ever, with Lukas rarely home anymore. And with Melanie gone.

And, of course, with Evan
across the country.

I missed Evan. I missed his
friendship. I missed his calming voice, and the way he would smile at me, and
make me think,
maybe there's a chance.
Even if he didn’t call, didn’t write. I was still thinking about him way too
much. When I set the pizza back down for the nagging customer, the sad thought
clouded my head:
what if Evan stays in
New York, and never comes back
? I posed it to Lukas at Melanie's funeral,
and I still didn't think it seemed out of the question. What if he had decided
to transfer to NYU or Columbia? What if he wasn't days away from returning to
L.A. but weeks in to starting his new, permanent life on the east coast?

I sighed, and walked over to
table thirteen. I cleared my throat. Kept my eyes down on my notepad. “How are
we tonight? Could I start you with an appetizer—”

“Syd? Is that you?”

I looked up. Evan was dressed
in a blue polo shirt and black jeans. He had chopped his hair short, and had
grown a fuller goatee.
 

“Oh my God!” I said, thrilled
to see him, and mortified that the first time he was seeing me after all these
weeks was in my lame waitress attire—a dark red vest over a pink collared
shirt. “
Evan
?”

“I didn’t know you worked
here.” He jumped out of the booth and gave me a big hug. “How are you?”

“I'm fine, I'm fine. Yeah, I
got the job right after the…” I hesitated. “Well, the funeral.”

“Oh.” His enthusiasm shot
south, almost immediately. What was wrong with me? Why did I have to go and
mention the goddamned funeral? “So what’s good here?” he asked.

“Everything’s good here,” I
said, and handed him a menu. I leaned in closer and whispered into his ear,
“The two things I’ve tried, anyway.”
 

“You mean you haven’t had
every single dish?” He pointed at the bottom of the menu. “You haven’t tried
the garlic cheese sticks?”

I laughed. “Can’t say that I
have.”

He smiled, real big and
genuine. I was so happy to see that smile, so happy Evan could still radiate
the same joy from before everything went to hell. He closed the menu and said,
“You know what? You can’t go wrong with pepperoni. Could I get a large?”

“Of course.” I jotted it down,
even though it was the easiest order of the evening. “Are you just eating by
yourself, or...”

“No. Todd’s with me.”

My heart dropped a little. It
didn't surprise me, but it was still disappointing. “I see. So how long have
you been back in town?”

“Got back Thursday. I'm still
getting settled.”

“Yeah? How was New York?”

“Pretty rough, actually. Some
of it was okay, but mostly it was this unlivable mix of my mom trying to take
too much care of me, my brother ignoring me, my dad screaming at me all day at
work.”

“Oh God,” I said. “Was it
really that bad?”

“It kind of was, yeah.” He
rubbed his palms together, and brought his gaze down to the table. “Every time
I go home I think it’ll make me happy. But it never does. It just makes me want
to get back to L.A. as soon as I can.”

I leaned up against his
booth, and hoped no one would see me chatting away with someone when I had tons
of work to get done. “Do you have a job lined up here yet?”

His eyes opened wide. “
Somebody
is full of questions, isn’t
she? I feel like I’m being interviewed.”

I slapped my notepad against
my side, and looked away. “I’m sorry. I’m just…” Interested, is what I wanted
to say. “I’m just glad to see you, that's all. It's been awhile.”

“I’m glad to see you, too,”
he said, crossing his arms, and staring right into my eyes. “You look great, by
the way.”

I tried not to blush. “I do
not. I’ve been on the floor all night. I’m sure I’m a
mess
—”

“You look great,” he repeated.
He shot me his famous smile. I smiled right back.
 

Todd bumped against me. “Excuse
me,” he said, and sat down across from Evan. “Hey, you’re that Sydney chick,
right? From sociology?”

I uttered a quiet sigh.
Way to ruin a tender moment, ass,
I
wanted to say. “Yes, that’s right. How’d you know my last name was Chick?”

He perused the menu for a
moment, then looked back at me, bewildered. “Huh?”
 

Todd was mildly attractive in
that bland, frat boy way. With his short blond crew cut, his brown eyes, his
giant forehead, he wasn't by any means ugly, but he looked like fifty other
guys at LMU. Not that it mattered; even if he had been the most handsome man on
the planet, it wouldn't have changed the fact that Todd was a total dick.
 

“So I’ve already got your
pizza order. Could I start you off with a couple of drinks?” I asked.

“Just water for me, thanks,”
Evan said. His expression changed the second Todd arrived. He brought his arms
down against the table and gazed out the tiny window behind him. Was he
thinking of her?

“I’ll have a Pepsi, thanks,”
Todd said.

“Oh, is Coke okay?”

He shook his head, and burned
his eyes into my skull. “No. I asked for Pepsi. Make it happen.”

I opened my mouth, but
nothing came out.

He chuckled, kind of a
burr-hur-hur
, and said, “I’m just joking
with you. Coke is fine.” He looked me up and down. “See, I'm a good boy,
Sydney. I didn't order
any
alcohol.”

I glared at him, and turned
around. The tiny restaurant didn't even serve alcohol, but I still wanted to
find an empty beer bottle and smash it over Todd's head.

As I walked to the back to
get their drinks, I tossed the question around my mind for the hundredth time: Why
the hell was Evan roommates with that jerk? And now the two were sharing some
house together, with Zach, Todd’s twin-like equivalent, and who knows how many
others. Even if Evan ever asked me back to his place, would I want to go?

I poured their drinks and
headed back to the ground floor. I had to remember to look the part of a
waitress, to keep my smiley face on at all times. It had been so difficult to
maintain, but not anymore. Not with Evan around.

I served them their pizza fifteen
minutes later, and before I had a chance to say another word to Evan, he was
already asking for the check. I was taking another order when they got up from
their booth and headed toward the front of the restaurant. I watched him
disappear from my life, yet again.

“So I’ll have the sausage and
onion pizza, with
extra
sausage,” my
latest customer said, “and when I say extra sausage, I don’t just mean one
extra little morsel, I’m talking, like, a mountain of—”

“Could you excuse me for a
moment?” I asked, quickly. “I’ll be right back.” I was probably going to get
fired, but I couldn't let him leave that easily.

I opened the door and sped
out to the parking lot. Glanced to my left and right. I didn’t see him.

“Syd?” Evan said. I spun
around. Evan stepped past the door right behind me. “What are you doing out
here?”

“Oh, hey!” I said. “I thought
you already left.”

“No, Todd went down the
street to get the car. I just used the bathroom.” He approached me, waited for
me to say something. When I just stood there, he said, “What's wrong? Did I
leave you a bad tip?”
  

I laughed, nervously. “No,
no, nothing like that—”

“Did I forget something?” He
patted his back pocket.

“No. It's just... I didn’t
get a chance to say good-bye.”

He looked at me, confused,
but I sensed a hint of excitement.

Todd pulled up, and rolled
the passenger window down. “Evan, let's go!” he shouted.

“I’m sorry,” Evan said to me.
“We’re in a hurry to get to this party…”

A party? All of the color in
my face flushed away with the mere mention of the word. “Oh, sure thing. I
should be getting back, anyway.”

I turned toward the restaurant,
but Evan tapped my arm, and pulled me toward him. “No, you don’t understand.
I’m dropping Todd off at the party. I’m not going.”

I glanced through the open
window of the car. Todd was sliding himself over the center console, to the
passenger seat. “You’re not going?” I asked. “Why not?”

He crossed his arms and
shivered, even though it was eighty degrees outside. “I haven’t been in much of
a party mood ever since…” He didn’t have to finish the sentence. “I’m just
gonna go home, put on a movie or something.”

“Oh. Well, that’s cool.” I
didn’t know how to leave the conversation, so I just hugged him. “It was nice
to see you.”