Iced Romance (16 page)

“Your spaghetti, burgers, and soup are ready,” grunts Gary as I enter.

“Thanks,” I tell him. I cut off two pieces of the Pie of the Day (that Max buys from the bakery down the street) and carry them out to the diners. Then I return, pile the five plates on a tray and carefully balance my way back to the table with the discriminated old woman.

“Here you all are,” I say, placing the plates in front of them. “Careful, the plates are a little warm.” I set the last spaghetti in front of the old woman and she gawks at it.

“Are you fooling? That portion is too small! I asked for a large portion of spaghetti. Let me see your manager! This is not acceptable. Discrimination!”

She pounds the table and a few diners nearby look over. I flush. “I’ll take it back and see if I can get you some more,” I tell her, picking up the plate. I apologize and hurry back to the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Leila asks, following me through the swinging door. “Somebody seemed a little huffy. Found a hair or something?”

I shake my head. “No, she wants more pasta.” Leila looks at the plate in my hand. The spaghetti covers the entire plate.

“What, she wants it piled higher or something?”

I shrug. “Hey, Gary, could you please put some more pasta on top? The woman thinks we’re ageists or something.”

“Max and his old people,” Gary comments to no one in particular. He reaches over to his pasta pot with a large set of tongs and takes out enough pasta to feed a good two people. “She wants more spaghetti? I’ll give her more spaghetti. But either she pays extra for it, or you do. We can’t just go giving away handouts.”

He plops it on the already full plate and dumps a bit of sauce unceremoniously on top.

“You’re going to make me pay for the extra portion?” I’m not really shocked at Gary’s penny pinching but still a bit annoyed.

“I’ll have Max take it out of your paycheck.” Gary turns back to the stove and stirs something gray and lumpy in a bubbling pot.

Good grief, these people today are insane. I have to hold the plate with both hands to keep it from spilling or toppling over. “Don’t worry,” Leila says as we walk away. “One time I ended up owing Max twenty dollars on a paycheck because I was drinking soda from the fountain on my breaks. Who knew he paid attention to that?”

“You still do drink soda from the fountain on your breaks,” I point out. Leila holds the door for me and I go through.

“Yep,” she agrees, “but now I do it sneakily.”

I laugh and make my way back to the senior’s table like a tight rope walker. This spaghetti plate is massive.

“Here you are.” I set the plate on the table. Seriously, that is enough food to stop the hunger in Africa. I look at her, expecting a smile, a thank you, some form of gratitude. Instead she frowns. “Took you long enough.”

I grit my teeth. “Are you freaking kidding me?” I mutter.

“What?”

I show my teeth, hoping it looks like a smile, and say innocently, “You’re welcome. I hope you enjoy it.”

She turns back to her table companions and, waving a fork in the air, proclaims, “I’m going to take most of it home anyway, but this is exactly what I’ve been telling you about. People will take advantage of you.” She squints over at me. “You’re not needed anymore.”

I can barely refrain from flipping her off, or something equally rude. Leila sidles up to me. “Restaurants really bring out the best in people, huh?”

“Tell me about it.”

I am exhausted and feel dead on my feet. Just then the front door opens and a group of people march through the door. More seniors, I think grimly.

“I got them,” I tell Leila and she nods.

“Hi, welcome to Maxie’s,” I say, hurrying up to them. The man in front, obviously the spokesperson of the group winks at me.

“Thank you, sweetie. We need a table for fourteen.”

“Fourteen?” I look around. No way are fourteen people going to fit in here for at least a half hour, maybe longer. “That will be about a forty five minute wait,” I say, opting for the longer wait time the way I’m supposed to.

He crosses his arms. “Forty five minutes? You are joking!”

“No, sir, today’s a busy day,” I reply.

“I demand to see your manager. This is outrageous. We demand some respect!” The people behind him nod vigorously; a few of them bang their canes and walkers on the ground.

Max is counting money and a line of people are waiting at the till. No way is he going to come over to appease this grumpy old man with too-large dentures. I’ll have to handle this myself.

“My manager is unavailable right now, but if you wait I can get you a complimentary beverage when your table is ready.” There, giving away a free soda shouldn’t be bad. If I can, I’ll sneak it out of the kitchen like Leila does. And at worst, Max will notice and take it out of my next paycheck too, but at least it’ll only be a dollar or so.

“Drinks for the whole table?” the man is still standing with his arms folded and a few people behind him pat him on the shoulder and say encouraging words like “Yeah, you tell her,” and “Good call, you old codger, good call.”

Fourteen fountain drinks is suddenly looking like a big deal, but the money isn’t too huge of an issue. I do have a bit still squared away in the bank, after all. I swallow my pride and nod. “Sure, I guess.” Anything to get these people appeased

“Then we’ll wait.” The man smiles smugly and the fourteen of them clump around the door, leaning on the wall, sitting on the fronts of their walkers.

Between these free drinks and the extra spaghetti, I’m down a good thirty bucks now. Seniors day may be good coin for Max, but it is definitely costing me.

Several hours later, my shift is nearly over, and I am making the final rounds of my section. I wipe down another table, moving the salt and pepper shakers back to the side, and then pick up a newspaper that someone had left on their seat.

For the second day in a row, I find myself looking at a picture of me. “Missing Woman Claims She Is Not Missing!” states the headline. Another unflattering picture of me is squished beneath the headline. I skim the article. They got most of it right, actually. Kennedy Carter has notified Florida police that she is not missing. Broken engagement with Todd Marusiak. Carter wishes to be left alone.

They got too much right, actually. Mentioning Florida is a big red flag. How long do I expect to be able to hide here without people finding out the truth? I look over my shoulder. Leila is chatting to a couple in a booth, Christine is somewhere in the back, and Max is counting the money in the tip jar. I turn the pages to the sports section. If there is going to be any more news about me, it will be here.

“Marusiak Swears ‘I will not rest until I find her’ at Hockey Game.” Oh crap. That doesn’t sound good. I begin reading.

Todd Marusiak filed a missing person claim after returning from the road and finding his fiancée, Kennedy Carter, gone. However, just yesterday police were informed by Carter herself that she is not missing and she merely left, not being able to handle the accusations of cheating and affairs that have been plaguing Marusiak for the past two weeks. At a hockey game last night in Denver, Colorado, Marusiak made a bold statement when he said “I will not rest until I find my fiancée and bring her home. We belong together.” There has been no comment from Carter on this matter.

The article continues in this vein, outlining the various women who have come forward over the past weeks to announce they too had had an affair with Todd. I stop reading.

What is going on? Todd hasn’t even bothered to email a legitimate apology to me. But now he’s trying to show the world that “we belong together” and he is going to hunt me down?

I feel confused again. Part of me is thrilled. Todd must actually love me after all, right? Maybe the affairs were accidental. Maybe we do belong together. But then there is another part of me that wants it all to disappear. I have a new life here. New friends. David.

Thinking about David makes me a little weak in the knees. David, with his strong hands and those brilliant eyes. David, who makes my hands shake just a little when he draws near. David, who stole my heart with that kiss.

At least he would have if I hadn’t had Todd on the brain all day.

I need to get a message to Todd, I think with growing courage. He needs to know that I don’t want to be found. I don’t want him back. And as flattering as it is that he wants to launch a crusade to find me, he did cheat. Over and over and over. And treated me like I belonged to him.

I can’t let him back into my life.

I’ll call Mrs. Lawrence tonight. After my shift is over. I’ll phone her, let her know I’m okay, and ask her to please tell Todd to stop interfering with my life. And I’ll email Todd. I’ll tell him I’m done and we’re done and to stop bringing my name up and definitely to stop looking for me. My life is my own now.

He’s ruined it enough already, thank you.

I don’t want him back. Do I?

1 Draft Message—Unsent

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]

Todd,

STOP TRYING TO FIND ME!!!! Haven’t the jersey pieces and me disappearing made things obvious enough?? WE’RE OVER! Please stop bringing my name up in the papers. Please stop filing reports saying I’m missing. Seriously, I’m 28 years old. I’m not a baby. More importantly, I’m not YOUR baby.

I’m not coming back to you. I’m over you. You cheated on me way too many times and I’m fed up with it all. Please leave me alone.

Stop harassing me.

Kennedy

“Sorry, did you need something else?” Leila asks her. They must have been people she waited on tonight, so I step back, excluding myself from the conversation.

The woman shakes her head and, to my surprise, points at me. “No,” she says impatiently, brushing Leila off. “I meant you, miss. You’re Kennedy Carter, aren’t you? I recognized you from the paper. We were hoping we could get a picture with you, as sort of a memento to show our friends back home. Nobody is going to believe we actually found you!”

My heart sinks. I shake my head. “No, I’m not Kennedy Carter. You must, uh, have me mistaken with someone.”

The woman points at my uniform. “It says right there that your name is Kennedy. I know you’re the one. Todd Marusiak’s fiancée,” she stage whispers to Leila. “You know, the girl who disappeared after he cheated.”

“I, uh, I really,
really
don’t know what you’re talking about.” My panic levels are rising. I need to escape from here, to hide away from these people. This is the whole reason I came here, to escape from the eyes and the whispers and the people gossiping behind my back. This should not be happening!

The man steps forward now. “It is you,” he agrees in a gruff tone. “We know you’re the one. Now why don’t you be a doll and let us get your photograph.”

Leila’s face is a mixture of confusion and compassion. I look at her, pleading for her to help me.

“Sir, ma’am?” Leila suddenly takes charge, holding out her hands. “I’m so sorry, but you’ve got the wrong girl. Kennedy has been a waitress here for the past three years and she’s dating a guy from Fort Lauderdale. You must be mistaken.”

I gape at her for a second and then nod. “Exactly, uh, that’s right,” I stutter. “I’m not Kennedy Carter. Yes, my name’s Kennedy, but it’s a, well, a popular name, or something.”

The couple stares at me for a minute longer. The woman’s eyes are narrowed and I can almost see the figurative wheels turning in her brain. But Leila stays beside me, tough and unbending like a rock.

Finally the woman shrugs and they move on.

The moment they are out of earshot, Leila spins toward me. “Okay, chickie, what’s going on? Who are you? I know you’re the person they were talking about. You’re a really bad liar. So tell me, what’s up?”

I look around. Christine is coming out of the kitchen, her uniform slung over her arm. “I’m heading out, see you tomorrow,” she calls over to us. Max and Gary are somewhere in the back, but I don’t want them to overhear.

“Can we go outside?”

Leila follows me out into the humid evening air and sits on the curb beside me. I take a deep breath and then tell her everything. How happy I was with Todd. How hurt I was when he cheated. How confused and lost I felt. My escape here, trying to hide and bury my past forever. And now, being with David.

“I’m confused, I guess,” I admit. I’ve been talking for thirty minutes and Leila hasn’t said much. She has her hand on my arm and pats it every now and again, but other than that, she’s let me ramble on. When the tears started, for the first time I didn’t feel ashamed to be crying.

“I think David could be someone special. I can see myself with him forever, even though I’ve only hung out with him a couple times. But I can’t seem to get over Todd. I don’t know what to do.”

The silence weighs heavily on my shoulders as I finally stop. Down the street a couple of teenagers laugh, their voices obnoxious in the still night. A car drives by, headlights casting an ominous glow on the alley next to us.

“I’m sorry, man.” Leila sounds sympathetic, but her face is bathed in shadow and I can’t read her expression. “What a dirty scum your fiancé was.”

I feel a tug of affection for Leila and shift my position on the curb. My bum is going numb and I’ll need to stand up soon or else I may not be able to walk home.

“So what do I do?” I ask a second time. “I don’t want to tell David the truth. I don’t want him to know about Todd or about the real me.”

“The real you?” echoes Leila. “Girl, the ‘real you’ is the person I’ve known the past two weeks. And, despite what I may have said to you at times, you’re not too bad. David will know that too. He’ll know you’re pretty great.”

I smile despite myself. “Thanks,” I say softly. “I haven’t been told that in a while.”