“What do you suggest?”
I had grown up here in northern Michigan and, with the exception of a school-organized trip in tenth grade, had never been away. In spite of that, I would have been a piss-poor guide. “If I were you, I’d look at the things that the tourists are into. They like to ski and ride snowmobiles. In the summer they hike, bike, sail…more outdoors stuff.”
“Is that what you like to do?” he asked.
“Not really. I know how to walk so I think I’d be ok at hiking, but I never do those other things for fun,” I explained.
“Why? From everything I hear, this place is like a paradise for that ‘outdoors stuff.’ Fishing, swimming, cross country skiing—”
“I’m pretty busy,” I interrupted. And lame, apparently. What had I been doing with myself? “I’m very busy,” I amended. “I go to school and I work here full-time. I went skiing once, forgym class. I fell. It’s really hard to balance.” I recalled falling off various bikes, too, and decided that I wouldn’t want to start hiking on the edge of a cliff.
“Sounds like I should pick someone else to show me around.”
“Probably so,” I said, nodding. “I have to work anyway, and then I have plans.” I slid back my chair.
“Hey, I was kidding,” Shane told me, holding up his hands. “We could figure out something together. What do you think?”
I looked over my shoulder at my mom, who was fiddling with the register tape. There was nothing wrong with it, which I knew because I had replaced it myself. “Ok,” I told him. “Sure.” Did this seriously mean that I had two dates this weekend? With two different men? I started smiling and looked down, so it wouldn’t show. “Sure, I’ll go.”
We discussed a few potential activities before he left and then I went back to the counter. My mom had quit pretending that she was fixing the register and was openly staring. “What did he want?” she asked.
“He’s looking to learn more about northern Michigan,” I said. “From me.”
“From you? Who is he?”
“He works for the Woodsmen,” I answered. “He’s a scout so he’s been watching the Juniors play and looking for talent.” I had my phone out to research him, Shane Bishop, something which I had avoided before because I had told myself that I wasn’t interested. “He’s from Arkansas and he played college footballin Colorado,” I reported as I read the information on my screen. “He was the starting quarterback as a sophomore and a junior, and for most of his senior year.” I had been correct when I’d figured him as a QB. “But it looks like he quit…I don’t know what happened.” I was quickly scrolling, but nothing immediately jumped out about why he’d stopped playing. “He graduated four years ago, so he’s twenty-six now.” Just to compare, I looked up Corbin, the guy who had invited me to a frat party. He was twenty-one, much closer to my age because I was twenty-three.
“He looks like a football player,” my mom agreed. “Could he get you tickets to Woodsmen games?”
“Why would it matter? I couldn’t go, right? I’m always here at the restaurant.”
It had been quiet in the kitchen, silent enough that I had forgotten that anyone was in there and silent enough that my dad had been able to hear every word I’d just said. “You’re an ungrateful brat, Molly,” he yelled. “This place pays for your entire life.”
It didn’t have to be that way. If I had a job somewhere else, one that actually supplied a normal salary, then that would have paid for my life instead. I looked at the register, at the roll of tape that had always worked fine, and didn’t answer him.
To my surprise, as the weekend approached, no one said anything about me coming into work on Saturday. My parents didn’t bring it up and I was aware that I also should have left the topic alone, because maybe, somehow, they had both forgotten that I was supposed to be there?
But I couldn’t help myself from warning my mom. “I won’t be around tomorrow for the lunch service,” I mentioned offhandedly to her as we added up receipts on Friday night.
“I know. I remember that boy who wants you to show him around.”
The twenty-six-year-old boy. “I also won’t be around tomorrow night.”
She stopped tapping on her ancient calculator, the same one my grandma had used. “You think the date will go that long?”
“I wouldn’t call it a date,” I corrected, despite the fact that I had been calling it a date in my own mind since Shane had invited me. “But I mean that I’ll be going out with someone else.”
Her eyes widened. “Who?”
“A guy from school.” A guy from school named Corbin. I thought it rolled nicely off my tongue when I’d been saying it to myself as I drove alone and no one else could hear me, although I wasn’t in any danger of forgetting it now. He was a junior, he was the social chair for his fraternity, and he was a guy who dressed like he was walking a runway. I had already heard that the parties they threw at his frat were very fun, although I’d never personally been to one. He must have been good at his job.
“That boy who eats here is cute,” she told me next.
“Mom!”
“I have eyes. I see our customers,” she said. “Why don’t you like him?”
“I don’t care about him,” I said. I played with my pen, which was probably also one that my grandma had used. We tended to hang on to stuff. “Remember when I went to the Junior Woodsmen game but I left and came here instead? It was because of him.”
