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That meant my night was mine, and I already had started forming a plan before I got in the car to head into work. There was unfinished business with Wendy, that was for sure, and I found myself thinking about her the entire time I got ready for work and on the way there. When I clocked in, I had a hard time keeping up with conversations, totally lost in my own head.
Tony yammered on about the ballgame the other day and how he would clearly be a better option for the coach. I was on autopilot, responding and trying to keep up with the conversation while my mind kept sliding over to Wendy. I only wanted to think about Wendy.
Helen came in just after me and went into the office, using the extra coverage in the kitchen as a chance to catch up on paperwork. I didn’t blame her a bit. The time that she was out and I had a quarter of the actual office work to do that she did all the time, I was overwhelmed by it. It was wildly different and a lot more stressful than working for a chain. Not knowing you could just order stuff from the home office or call them if something was wrong meant you had to handle everything on your own. If something broke, you fixed it.
I found myself daydreaming about my future. It wasn’t something I usually did, and it caught me off guard. I thought about having my own restaurant one day, something where I could experiment constantly, a place that never really had a set menu. I could walk in and cook whatever I wanted and that was it for the day.
In that daydream, there were other people too. I wanted to stay friends with my coworkers, not directly compete. I wanted to see Helen there at my opening. I wanted to have Tony and Janet and Roger drop by for a free meal once in a while. And I wanted Wendy. I wanted her there beside me on late nights, Olly coloring at a table while I finished up and we went home. Together.
It shocked me to see that in my own future. The funny thing was, I was malleable on my future in cooking. I didn’t necessarily need all that. None of that was a set-in-stone goal or dream, just something that popped into my mind while I was standing at the stove, cooking onions. But Wendy being there, that part was concrete. I could see her there, clearer than anything else.
I tried to keep focused on work, but it was of little use. I just kept my head down and ran the tickets as they came in, letting my body take control and go through the motions while my mind went away. I knew I wanted to go over there again that night, to see her and make sure that the kiss wasn’t seen differently by her. Maybe she just got caught up in a moment, and now the moment had passed?
I had to find out.
So, as seven in the evening neared, I knocked on Helen’s office door.
“Come in,” she said.
“Hey,” I said as I poked my head in. “I think I’m going to cut on out of here. Roger and your mom are already here, and it’s pretty dead.”
“Alright,” she said. “I’m almost done back here, so I can help Roger if we get a sudden late rush. You go on home.”
“Actually, I was thinking about dropping by Wendy’s with dinner,” I said, judging her reaction. “Since she’s laid up and all. Thought it might be nice to bring some stuff over and cook for her.”
“Oh, well, yeah, that sounds nice,” she said, clearly surprised. “I didn’t know you knew her like that.”
“We’ve run into each other a couple of times,” I said. “Her and her little boy. I just thought it’d be nice to help her out since she got hurt.”
“It would,” Helen said, grinning. “Make sure to tell her I said hello.”
“Will do.”
“Do you need anything from our pantry or cooler? I’m making an order right now, so we can spare anything we have a lot of, since I can always have it delivered in a couple days.”
“I was thinking about bringing them some stuff to make a nice pasta meal,” I said. “Something accessible for a two-year-old.”
“Meatballs,” she said, almost automatically. “I heard he loves meatballs. He stole one from Everett’s plate when she brought him up there one time to have lunch with her at work.”
“Meatballs,” I repeated. “Got it.”
“Go grab the stuff from our pantry and cooler,” she insisted. “We have plenty of pasta and ground meat.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling. There was something about the way Helen was grinning back that told me she was onto me, but I ignored it.
