“Too fancy?” she asks.
I shrug. “It’s your birthday dinner.”
“I just don’t know if this is the vibe I want to go for,” she says, before spinning around to look at her reflection in the full-length mirror in the corner. She ponders it for a moment and then parades back into her closet. I hear hangers scrape as she moves them along.
She steps back out in a light blue top a few moments later. It’s floral print and makes her skin look sun-kissed.
“There it is,” I say as I pet Mr. Miles. “That’s the one.”
She glances at her reflection in the mirror again and seems content with what she sees. She grabs some earrings off her dresser and sticks them in before grabbing a small, black purse.
“Ready?” she asks.
“Sure.” I give Mr. Miles one last pat before I stand up and follow her out. She turns the light off and walks down the hallway, an extra pep in her step. Raquel grabs her keys off of a hook by the front door and I follow her back out onto the porch. She locks the door behind me and we walk down the front steps single file to avoid all the potted plants.
Panic starts to rise in my chest at the thought of riding in her car, but I fight it. I take a deep breath in through my nostrils and remind myself that I’m okay. I am stronger than this fear. I think of a technique mentioned in one of the pamphlets Amber gave me — breathe in for four seconds, hold for seven, and exhale for eight.
I open the car door as I exhale and sit down in the passenger seat. Raquel puts her key in the ignition and turns it; the car roars to life. The radio starts blaring and she quickly turns it down.
“Sorry,” she says, messing with the knob. “I like to jam out sometimes.”
“It’s fine,” I laugh, imagining her rocking out on the way to work.
She backs out of her driveway and begins to tell me about who all will be joining us for her birthday celebration. I nod and pretend to listen, more focused on keeping myself sane. I take another deep breath in.
One, two, three, four.
“Penny had a family emergency,” Raquel says, “otherwise, she would be joining us.”
“Bummer,” I mutter. “I hope everything’s okay.”
“I invited Graham, but he said he was helping his mom make more of her salsa. Said the festival really wiped her out.”
I smile, thinking of him spending time with his sweet mother.
“I booked the party room at Ramona’s Pizzeria, but we probably could have gotten away with just a big table,” she says. “It won’t be a huge crowd.”
I nod and focus on my breathing. Ramona’s is Beth’s favorite pizza place and I make a mental note to take home a pizza for her.
We drive across Driftbay with the windows rolled down, letting the warm summer air blow through our hair. The sensation feels good on my skin and helps to ground me. Raquel fiddles with the stereo volume as she drives; favorite songs keep playing.
We pull into Ramona’s a little past eight. Beth and Charlie should just be starting their date and I can’t help but wonder how it’s going.
Ramona’s is a small place, similar in style to the tavern that Jake took me to. The exterior is painted white, just like the tavern, but has red lettering along the front. Judging from experience, I’m finding that the hole-in-the-wall places have the best food.
Raquel parks and shuts off the car. We get out and she excitedly takes off across the gravel parking lot and greets some of her other friends. I tag along behind her and catch up to the group. She introduces me to them, but I quickly forget their names. I’m still on edge from being in the car and doing my best to keep calm.
I follow them into the restaurant and towards the back party room, my nose filling with the scent of Italian spices and marinara sauce. It makes my stomach grumble. This place looks like it hasn’t been remodeled since the 90’s, with its dingy gray carpet and red, stained glass lamps over every table. It’s charming, if only because it feels comfortable and nostalgic.
Raquel takes her spot at the head of the table and I take a seat next to her. She is animated as she talks to some friends from college that stuck around town; I focus more on the menu in front of me. I’m debating between a plain cheese pizza or pepperoni when our waitress comes by to take drink orders.
Everyone rattles off what they’d like. Raquel orders a water and then it’s my turn. I quickly order a Dr. Pepper and then the many conversations are back in full force. I tune them out and study the menu some more, as if it’s the most interesting thing I’ve ever read. Everyone seems to know each other, except for me.
“You okay?” Raquel asks quietly.
“Yeah.” I nod. “Just a little overwhelmed, but I’ll be okay.”
Our drinks arrive and we place our food orders. Raquel orders a pie with anchovies on it. I don’t know how she stomachs them. I order a plain cheese pizza and hand my menu back to our waitress.
