AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Gotcha, Mom.”
She paused for another moment and then slinked to the living room to probably mutedly discuss my future with my dad. I sank back into the bed, feeling my face haphazardly before drifting off to sleep.
***
I AWOKE TO THE SMELL of bacon sizzling in the kitchen, and despite my state of gloom, I had to admit I wasn’t sad about that. Pickles, absent from my room, was assumedly sitting at my dad’s feet, tempted by the smell of people food. The cat loved all kinds of foods not recommended for cats now thanks to Dad. At least someone was happy to be living in Ocean City.
I dragged myself out of bed languidly since I had the morning off from Tino’s. I sauntered out to the kitchen. Dad stood at the skillet, frying bacon and making omelets.
“Did you...” I asked. Pickles was right where I thought he would be, sitting beside the stove meowing loudly. My dad tossed him a hunk of bacon that had cooled, and the hairless cat jaunted off. I didn’t think cats could skip, but Pickles’ happy movements were as close as I supposed they could come. I wondered if the cat would still be so cute if his slender body packed on some extra weight. It seemed a distinct possibility if I lived with my parents too much longer because my dad was always slipping him food.
“Pepperoni and green peppers in your omelet. Of course,” he replied without me even having to finish the question. I smiled that he still remembered my favorite omelet order after so many years.
I sat at the table after Dad handed me coffee, and I savored the peace and quiet. Mom had to work the morning shift, and Dad wasn’t going in to the office until later. I warmed my hands on my coffee cup, savoring the slight reprieve and hoping my dad didn’t break it with career talk. But he must have needed the escape, too, because he didn’t say anything else until breakfast was done cooking.
“How’s your omelet, Kid?” he asked after it was finished and he’d slid the plate to me. Even though I wasn’t a kid anymore, I let him say it. Or maybe I let myself feel it for a moment. I nodded in approval, and Dad just grinned. We didn’t say anything for a while then, and I appreciated the lingering awkward silence I used to try to fill when I was younger.
“I love her, but sometimes the quiet is nice,” my dad confessed then.
“I agree,” I said. It was something we settled on, at least. We continued eating, both just savoring the food. After a little while, my dad put his fork down.
“Kid, I just want you to know I’m not trying to be tough on you. It’s just, well, I know what it’s like to struggle, and I never wanted that for you.” His words were soft and genuine. My dad was a stoic man, a tough man, but in that moment, I could see the worry in his eyes. I knew why he fought so hard for success and why it mattered so much to him. I thought of the stories I’d heard, the ones he didn’t like to talk about.
“I know. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m back here like this. I know it’s a let-down.” I averted my eyes to the table, staring at the soft white wood, my eyes traveling to the spot where, as a girl, I’d stapled through my art project. I traced the indent with my finger.
“Chin up, Kid. You’ll sort it out. The Ashbys don’t quit,” he said, giving me a soft smile.
Except when they do, I thought. My dad stepped away from the table, off to his job at the law firm, the one he’d fought so hard for. I sat in the wake of the emotional breakfast, wondering if he ever imagined I’d end up like this.
And wondering if I’d ever get over the guilt of it all.
***
THE WHOLE WAY TO TINO’S, I tried to convince myself it wouldn’t be so bad. Positive vibes, I told myself. There were worse jobs than waitressing. But thirty minutes into my shift, and I remembered why Tino’s wasn’t exactly the job of my dreams.
For one, there was Tino himself. A California surfer who settled in Ocean City in his thirties, he was now in his fifties and still thought his use of “rad” was cool—and he still thought he could hang with the bros. He was always flexing unnecessarily, often trying to be friends with the customers, and always desperate to uphold the self-ascribed cool vibe of the restaurant.
Additionally, he liked to call all of us “dudes” and insisted the hourly chant and line dance he forced all servers to do made perfect sense; he’d seen it at a steakhouse and decided to steal it, deciding it would be so rad for our customers. It was not. The only time the customers really enjoyed it was during Margarita Hour at six, and that had nothing to do with our dancing and everything to do with free margaritas. Nonetheless, he had the right to think what he wanted since Tino’s had been a top spot on the boardwalk for as long as I could remember. My parents had brought me to Tino’s often when I was younger. Back then, I thought it was funny when Tino called me “Dude.” He clearly was doing something right, though, even though it didn’t feel like it—Tino’s had grown and grown over the years.
But dining at Tino’s as a child and working at Tino’s in your thirties after things crumbled, well, they were two vastly different things. In short, it was a lot. A lot a lot. But the tips were good, the pay was actually good, and the job had been easy to snag, mostly because word had quickly spread about Tino and not many applications flew over the bar. Desperate to dig myself out of financial ruin, I’d decided in January that I’d temporarily pause my happiness for money. Now, months later, I was starting to doubt that plan. But I wasn’t a quitter. Not when it could be helped, at least.
Despite a rocky start, the crowd during my shift wasn’t terrible, thankfully. There were a lot of older tourists who were there for a quick meal. The time mercifully passed without incident.
“Hey, girl. Let’s do something outside of the confines of this chaotic establishment,” Grace said during our final break of the night. I always smiled at the way she talked. Grace was working on her master’s in creative writing and had dreams of being a seaside novelist. It showed.
“I would love to, but after this shift, I don’t know if my tired body can keep up.” My feet and back ached, a cruel reminder I wasn’t the twentysomething I used to be.
“Oh, stop. You’re only as old as you act. Come on, I need to have some fun.”
“What about that Rudy guy you said was taking you out tonight?”
“He bailed last minute. Of course,” Grace said, rolling her eyes.
“He seemed like a good one, too,” I said, referring to the guy who had stopped by a week before for dinner. He was new to town, Grace’s age, and loved anime, just like her. They seemed to be a perfect fit.
“Don’t they all,” she said. “It’s fine, though. I don’t care. Who needs men?”
I smirked. “I’ll drink to that.”
