AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Mrs. Alvarez comes back to the table with our food. The moment she sets my plate down in front of me, my mouth begins to water. For being nothing more than a basic carne asada wet burrito, the aromas coming off of the food are incredibly vibrant. And I can say without a doubt that it smells better than anything I've ever had at one of the fancier places I usually frequent.
Mrs. Alvarez gives me a wink and a knowing smile – which Emily does not miss. She laughs again, her mood starting to lighten a bit, which is good to see. Mrs. Alvarez leaves us to dig in, and dig in, I do. The meat is tender, juicy, rich, and bursting with flavor. I'm relatively certain the noises coming out of my mouth as I eat sound like I'm having an orgasm or like I’m extremely close to it. But I can't help it. The food is amazing.
“Enjoying that, I take it?” Emily prods me.
I nod. “It's incredible!”
“And to think – had you been left to make the decision on your own, we'd be sitting in some fancy faux-Mexican food place eating inferior, way overpriced food,” Emily mocks me.
I wipe my mouth with the napkin then grin. “You are absolutely right,” I confess. “I'm an elitist prick and I should probably be drawn and quartered.”
“I don't know if I'd go that far,” she winks. “But definitely flogged.”
I laugh and turn my attention back to my food, seemingly unable to get enough. Emily smiles and digs into her enchiladas. The mood between us, I think, is as free and light as it's ever been. There's a sense of camaraderie and comfortable companionship developing between us that I like. And I can't help but wonder if Emily feels it too.
The conversation is light and easy as we work our way through dinner. Afterward, Mrs. Alvarez didn't give us much of a choice, bringing flan out for us to enjoy. I'm glad she took that initiative, because it's just as incredible as my burrito. Much like this restaurant, I would have passed on it without giving it much thought and would have missed out on something great.
I spoon a mouthful of the delicious treat in and look up to find Emily looking at me intently. There's an inscrutable expression on her face I can't read, though there’s a ghost of a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“What is it?”
Her grin deepens. “You ever think about what Mrs. Alvarez said? About having kids?”
“With you?”
She guffaws loudly. “No, just in general.”
I shrug and take another bite of my flan. “I've thought about it, sure.”
“And?”
I shrug. “I honestly don't think it's going to happen for me.”
“This is a hypothetical,” she laughs.
“Well, hypothetically speaking – I really don't know,” I admit. “I mean, I can see the appeal, absolutely. There's a small part of me that still thinks about having kids someday. But honestly, I think I'd be a shit father, so I quiet that voice down quickly.”
“And why do you think you'd be a shit father?”
“I didn't have the best example growing up. I mean, my dad was good to me. He provided well and made sure I had everything I wanted. He wasn't a bad guy,” I explain. “But he wasn't exactly brimming over with warmth and fatherly affection. I'd be afraid that I'd have too much of him in me to be anything other than a shit father.”
Emily purses her lips and nods. “And what do you wish your father had done differently?”
I sit back in my seat, stuffed beyond measure. “Well, it would have been nice if he'd taken an interest in anything I was doing. He never even came out to a single game when I was playing football,” I go on. “It would have been nice to do something as simple as go out back and throw the ball around. Something. Anything. Instead, all I got was indifference most of the time. He was always too busy with work to do anything else or take an interest in me. He was all about ‘preparing me for the real world’, as he would say, and I guess he did pretty well in that regard. But I wish we could have just – I don’t know, hung out. Like father and son.”
Emily eats a spoonful of her flan as she looks at me. “That's actually kind of sad.”
I nod. “Yeah and I worry that's the kind of father I'd be. So, I figure I'll take a pass and avoid all that.”
She looks at me thoughtfully as she slips another spoonful of flan into her mouth. I find myself hypnotized by her full, moist lips – and a little aroused when the small pink tip of her tongue pokes out to lick the residue of the flan off of them.
“And what are you going to do with this empire you're building when you're gray and decrepit?” she presses.
“I haven't really thought that far down the road, actually,” I tell her. “I'll cross that bridge when I have to, I suppose.”
She gives me a gentle smile. “Well, for whatever it's worth, I think you turned out pretty well,” she says. “And I think you'd be a pretty good dad precisely because you know where your own dad fell short. You're a little too set on doing things your own way, and you’d do what you could to be a better father than what you had.”
“Thank you. I'm not sure about that, but thank you,” I respond. “What about you? Kids in your future plans?”
