Page 43 of Pining for You

“Shit, Z,” she says, and her shoulders drop. “I’m sorry. They never change, do they…”

It’s not a question, so Izaac doesn’t try to answer.

Audra looks at her watch, then back at the bar, where a man who is maybe her boss is shelving glassware with one eye on Audra. She’s obviously in the middle of her shift, and having an argument with random customers is probably not a good look.

“Listen, I’m due for a break. Can you hang for a second?” she asks.

“Not long,” Izaac says, still looking like a stone wall.

“We have a few minutes,” I amend.

Izaac shoots me a look but doesn’t object. Maybe I’m meddling, but it’s the truth, and we’ve come all the way here. Deep down, Izaac misses Audra. And just yesterday he expressly told me that he could use her help… I can’t let him walk away too proud to ask and then regret it later.

“Thanks, Bennie. Have a seat and I’ll join you in a minute—just going to let my boy know.” She points to a corner high-top table beneath one of the TV screens. “I’ll grab us drinks too. Coffee for Izaac, I know. Bennie? Hot cocoa? Best in Brooklyn right here.”

Audra smiles now. She’s just like Izaac that way, attentive to everyone’s needs. She probably makes a great bartender.

“Actually, I’ll go for the, uh, matcha,” I say, after a quick scan of the menu board.

“Okay, I see you!” she says, and pulls an impressed face. I like this version of me who’s capable of being a little unpredictable. Maybe it’s the same one who can have a solo meal at the bar.

“You know that’s like literal grass, right?” Izaac says skeptically.

“Well, I’m not sure you know this, Izaac Evans, but new things can be good sometimes…” I look pointedly in Audra’s direction.

“Nice try.”

A few minutes later, we’re sitting at a table with Audra, and there’s a Grinch-green drink in front of me that I’m not sure I’m ready to try after all. Instead, I fidget with a plastic tabletop sign that says this bar has the best wings in Brooklyn.

“So, you come for the wings?” Audra nods to it, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

“I hear they’re the best in Brooklyn!” I respond, playing along.

“I thought you were vegan,” Izaac says, sounding more like he’s accusing her of being a witch.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t serve customers their wings.” Audra shrugs.

“Way to stand on principle.”

“Wow, Z, you never change either.”

“Apparently you do,” he says. “Anyway, we’re not here for the food. Or the ambiance.”

He takes another deliberate look around.

Audra looks Izaac up and down, clearly clocking his pristine white sweater, along with the lintless black wool overcoat and red Coach scarf draped over the back of his chair.

“Right, I imagine this place isn’t really your style, is it, baby bro?”

“And it’s yours now?” he asks.

“Hate to tell you, but this is the best job I’ve ever had.” she says.

As they volley back and forth, other differences in Audra become clear. Her hair, yes. But also, she’s wearing less makeup, and her nails—which were always perfectly manicured—are short and plain. Izaac notices too.

“When did you stop doing your nails?” He points at them.

Rather than hiding them, Audra spreads her hands on the table.