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We’re seated at a great table beside the window. You can see the traffic lights in downtown Richmond, cars passing as they head home or wherever they’re going for the night. The restaurant is casual with low lighting and dark wood. Most of the tables are full, even for a Wednesday night.
Our waitress arrives a few moments later and takes our drink order; a strawberry daiquiri for me and a Jack and Coke for him. As we browse the menu, he asks, “What looks good?”
“All of it,” I reply with a laugh. “They had some sort of chicken salad on top of lettuce, with grapes for lunch. I was craving a big, juicy cheeseburger.”
“Mmmmmm, I say we go for the grease,” he says, closing his menu with a smile.
“I can get on board with that.” Following suit, I close my menu.
After the waitress brings us our drinks and takes our order of cheeseburgers and fries, we jump into small talk. It’s comfortable and easy, as if we’ve shared a table for days, weeks, hell, months before. I’ve never experienced this effortlessness with another person before outside of my family. It’s strange and wonderful all at the same time.
“Tell me about growing up with five sisters.”
The prospect makes me laugh. “One time when my dad was off, and before my mom died, she took us all to church. There were usually eight of us, when Dad was home, so we generally took up our own pew. We could be a bit unruly so Mom always picked one of the back pews and sat close to the middle so she could reach all of us easier.”
I glance over his shoulder, smiling, as I get lost in the memory. “Well, the pastor had just started his sermon and was encouraging all of the adults to take these portable prayer books that were by the back door. As soon as he dove into his sermon, Abby glanced over at me and whispered, ‘Grandpa keeps his portable prayer book on the back of the toilet.’ I started to giggle, and the next thing I knew, all five of my sisters were giggling as well. Mom looked horrified as the pastor stopped his sermon and the entire congregation turned to look at us.”
He laughs a hearty laugh. “I take it by keeping it on the back of the toilet, she meant…”
“Oh, yeah. Grandpa used to read his prayers when he was using the facility. Abby must have been four at the time, and she had no clue what she was saying. To her, it was just an observation, but to me, it was talking about poop in church.”
We both laugh as a parade of memories flash through my mind. Most of them star my mom. Those are the memories that hurt. For years, I pushed aside all of those reminiscences because it was too painful. I was seventeen when it happened, so close to officially becoming a woman. When she passed, I felt like I lost a huge piece of myself.
“I remember when I was thirteen, I learned from some boys on the school bus to take those little poppers that you throw on the ground, you know the ones that come out for the fourth of July, and carefully tape one to the bottom of one of the little supports of the toilet seat. Then when someone sits down, it applies pressure, makes a loud pop, and scares them to death.”
“You did this?”
“Of course I did! I talked Jaime into helping. We got our sister AJ first, and then our dad. Let’s just say that when that happened, we quickly decided not to do that again.”
“You got in trouble?”
“Oh yeah. I’m sure the fact that AJ cried for two days and didn’t want to use the toilet was a big part of the punishment we received.”
“Sounds like you guys were trouble when all together,” Dean says in observance before taking a drink.
“Definitely. We gave our parents plenty of sleepless nights, I’m sure. Lexi was the worst though. She was trouble with a capital T. Though, she sort of mellowed out when she married Chris right out of high school. Our grandparents instigated a lot, the older we got.”
“And Grandma would be the one who added a few zeros to your financial statement a couple of weeks back, right?”
“Yeah, that’s her. She has this uncanny ability to embarrass all of us, especially my sister Jaime. Grandma and Grandpa always busted Jaime and Ryan when they were in a compromising position.”
“Were they dating in high school or something?” he asks when our loaded burgers and fries are delivered to the table.
Plucking a fry from my plate, I reply, “Oh no. Jaime and Ryan are together now. This happened last year. The first time Jaime stayed at Ryan’s house, Grandma called us all in, telling us Jaime had gone missing. Then she called the National Guard. She was in bed with Ryan when we found her, which didn’t surprise any of us. Grandma just wanted to make a big deal out of nothing and embarrass her. It worked too. Jaime’s face was scarlet for three days.”
“Sounds like you have your hands full with them.” I watch, mesmerized, as he takes a big bite of his cheeseburger.
“Definitely.”
“Did you ever ask her about the extra zeros?”
“Not yet. I will, but I was busy the last week before I left for this show. Plus, I’m pretty sure she was avoiding me, which pretty much admits guilt.” I load up my fries with ketchup before diving in again. “What about you? You’re not from here, right? I’m pretty sure I would have remembered you.”
“No, I’m originally from Ridgewood. I lived there until about a year ago when I relocated to Jupiter Bay to work at Corbin and Denton. I was raised by a single mom who did the best she could, while working multiple jobs and barely making pennies. It was hard, but she did everything she could for me. When I was in high school, I knew I wanted to help and make something of myself, so I focused on my studies. Put in a lot of time and was able to get scholarships for college, graduating with a degree in accounting and mathematics.”
“I can picture you, with your little glasses, studying all night for a test. It’s actually kinda hot,” I tell him with a coy smile.
“Really? Well, if you find nerds attractive, then I have plenty of late night historical cost and matching principle study groups where we all discussed the Algebraic K-theory stories to make your panties wet,” he whispers conspiratorially with darkening eyes.
