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Lastly, I gave thanks for the drive ahead to the Lott family restaurant, hoping that it might be just long enough for me to gather my courage to do more than imagine a new life.
The interlude I’d spent preparing for normalcy was time well-wasted.
And I couldn’t take credit for that, though I wouldn’t describe my entrance as either cool or casual. But I also hadn’t backslid into a crazy persona and walked into the restaurant blindfolded to ask the patrons if they were feeling lucky. I hadn’t pulled out a deck of cards and forced customers to draw one while humble-bragging about my card-shuffling skills.
But even if I had done any of those things, this crowd probably wouldn’t have batted an eye.
I’d passed the place twice before I found the gravel parking lot with the tiny, weathered sign that read “Ari’s” with an even smaller hand-painted sign below it that read “OPEN 6:30 IN THE MORNIN’.” I was so mortified by the idea that someone—Vinh specifically—had seen me cruise by the lot twice like an utter moron that my nerves about how I should act when I walked in were layered with a heavy serving of self-consciousness.
But again, that had all been a waste of energy.
Ari’s was the definition of a hole-in-the-wall. When I walked in, red-faced and a bit shifty-eyed, wearing a men’s oversized knit cardigan, not a single patron looked my way for more than a second before turning back to their own business.
In other words, they did not give a fuck.
My anonymity made me feel instantly at ease, one of the outer layers of my uncertainty dissolving with the chill vibes that Ari’s and its customers offered.
Until….
“SHE’S HERE!”
A blur of tattoos and pastels enveloped me in a hug. I laughed, holding tightly to my new friend before pulling away.
Liem coughed into his fist and said, “I mean, hello, customer. Welcome to Ari’s. Order at the counter and then sit or stand wherever.” He gestured to the small room with a sweep of his hand.
“Thank you for your hospitality, sir.” I played along as I pulled Liem with me. “Your shirt looks somehow familiar, Little Lott.”
He sighed. “For one, don’t call me that. It harkens me back to my ill-fated audition to play Christine in a community production of The Phantom of the Opera. And no, I cannot speak of it further.”
I nodded solemnly.
“And two,” he continued, holding up a peace sign, “you’re one to talk.”
I looked down at my green sweater. “At least mine isn’t a potential copyright infringement?”
“I didn’t copy,” he scoffed. “I took inspiration.”
He was wearing a tight-fitting, custom-made pastel blue-and-bubblegum-pink Dawn’s Diner T-shirt. But on top of the Dawn’s logo, there was a hand-drawn little sun that was somehow also a sunny-side up egg. Below it, there was seemingly handwritten script that matched the sign outside that read:
Ari’s OPEN 6:30 IN THE MORNIN’
“Dammit, Liem.”
He smiled. “I know. It’s adorable.”
“It’s adorable,” I echoed. “It gives me such cute aggression that I feel weirdly pissed right now.”
“Language!”
Liem and I both jumped and looked up.
The reprimand had come from a short, striking older woman behind the counter. My stomach sank. That wasn’t a great first impression to make anywhere, but I was used to being scolded and automatically sank into the familiarity of it.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am.” I cast my eyes downward, wondering if I could gracefully flee back to Cody’s truck, which was another reason I’d wanted to drive myself.
Silence followed my apology, and after a few moments, Liem tapped my arm, encouraging me to look up. My already hot face heated further, and I wondered if it was as pink as Liem’s shirt.
“Child,” the woman started, a soft smile on her face, “don’t apologize to me.” She looked vaguely off into the distance for a moment, then added, “In fact, allow me to apologize to you. I startled you and inserted myself into a conversation that was not mine. For both of those things, I am sorry.”
