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The pounding of my heart and the swaying of the room finally seemed to slow down with each passing minute.
When I knew he was gone, I let the tear being held captive in my left eye fall freely and finally walked over to the table where his piece of pie still sat in the dish, only one bite taken out of it. I realized I was so flustered, I forgot to add the whipped cream and cherry before serving it. The pie looked as pathetic as I felt and I picked it up along with the ten-dollar bill.
As I put the money in the register, I felt another teardrop stream down my cheek. Get it together, Allison.
I didn’t expect seeing him to be so hard. If this had been a week ago, his coming to the diner would have been the highlight of my life. He had clearly come in to see me today. The fact that he barely touched the pie proved that…but why? Why did he come here? Does he feel sorry for me?
After I found out that all of my romantic delusions about him were false, I had to conclude that he must just see me as a charity case. Didn’t the tip the first time around confirm that? Even though I had resigned myself to this fact, it still hurt more than I thought it would to see him again, knowing that I can’t have him.
If it
was possible, he looked better than ever. His hair looked a bit longer on the sides, curling around his ears and it was parted slightly differently framing his beautiful face.
And I had never seen him dressed down before. He wore dark blue jeans and a hooded maroon sweatshirt that hugged his muscular frame. He looked younger and so goddamn sexy when he stood before me with his hands in his pockets, seeming almost… nervous.
But why?
When he first came in and started to approach me, I froze, feeling faint and had to hold on to the side of the counter just to grab my bearings. I could barely get the words out when he asked me a question, staring into me again with those penetrating crystal blue eyes. The heat of him standing so close to me, that damn intoxicating scent of his again and knowing now that he was off limits, was too painful to take.
And to think if I hadn’t opened the paper that day, I would still be wasting my time thinking that he could want someone like me.
***
It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. My friend Danny and I planned to meet at Starbucks in Copley Square for coffee after my diner shift, since I didn’t work with Lucas on that day. It was so nice to catch up with Danny who wanted to fill me in on his new boyfriend Paolo.
“Danny!” I shouted and I saw him waiting in line, rushing to join him amongst the crowd of people waiting for their drinks to be called out.
He knew me so well. “I already ordered you your caramel macchiato,” he shouted through the sounds of foaming milk as he stood in the barista receiving area.
We took our drinks over to the velvet purple couch in the corner. We were lucky to get that coveted seat. Everyone knows the Starbucks couch is always inevitably taken by one person unnecessarily taking up all of the space with multiple newspapers, when two people are forced to take the small table with the hard uncomfortable seats.
“So, tell me about Paolo!” I crossed my legs and took a sip of the foamy drink as I anticipated his story. It tasted so good.
“He is awesome. Did I tell you he is a performer?” Danny was beaming.
“No…what kind of performer?” I laughed and slapped Danny playfully on the shoulder.
Danny gave me an impish grin. “Well, let’s just say, by day he goes by Paolo…by night he is Paula.”
“He is a cross-dresser?”
“No, no, no…a drag queen. Big difference. He chooses to dress as a man in real-life, but performs as a woman…for other men. Believe me, he is all man,” Danny said winking.
I laughed. “Oh boy, I bet. That is too cool, though. Can we go see him…um…her on stage?
“Sure. We can take your billionaire blue-eyed boyfriend. You can finally test his sexuality once and for all,” he said jokingly.
“Very funny.” I pushed Danny’s shoulder in jest again.
I had filled him in on my Cedric crush last week over the phone, getting his thoughts on whether I should send Cedric another email under the vise of updating him on the new job.
After fifteen minutes of gushing on the couch about our respective men, Danny had to run to get back his hairdressing job.
I decided to go back to the counter for one of those gigantic rice krispy treats.
When I turned around, of course, someone had taken the couch, so I made myself comfortable on one of the hard seats by the door. At least someone left me a free newspaper here.
I immediately admired a striking cover photo of a turkey taken by my friend Angela, who was a photographer for the paper. The story was about a family that purchased a live Thanksgiving turkey originally intending to kill it and cook it on Thursday. Instead, their five-year-old daughter convinced her parents to save its life and keep it as a pet. The photo shows the turkey sitting at the dinner table with the family as the father stands under the table sticking his head through a hole, creating the illusion that his head is on a plate. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the caption: ‘Eat Me.’
