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Matthew
Finishingup my first day of work has never been more satisfying. It’s nice to have that feeling of accomplishment, but for me it’s a bit more. After four years of “work” being another way to say “fight to stay alive”, being back at a regular job is a welcome change of pace.
“Matty!”
My Mom’s voice causes me to twist around, but the sight of her waving at me from her Chevy almost makes me grumble. Instead, I bite my tongue and give her a single, clipped wave in return.
“Come on!” She calls through the open window. “Come have dinner with your mother!”
Leo chuckles and claps me on the back. “Go on then, son, can’t wiggle out of this one. Tell her I’m gonna grab something on the way home.”
Climbing into the car, I give my Mom a lopsided grin. Her face has brightened and she’s practically bouncing in her seat as we drive across town to a little cafe. I can tell right away that the building has changed hands, it used to be a classic American diner called Jenny’s Place, but now it’s Southern Style steak house. So far, I’d spent my day pretending nothing changed since the day I’d left this place, but it was clear the world kept turning in my absence.
The restaurant is packed with people so it takes us a few minutes to get a table. Mom seems patient, she keeps flashing me a smile as she talks endlessly, trying to catch me up on everything I’d missed in the last four years that she thinks important. I hear about the crazy Superbowl we just had, and she takes a minute to tell me Trump is the President.
Not that she had to… I might have been sitting in a dark room in the desert on the far side of the planet, but news like that has a way of getting around.
She doesn’t even notice how uncomfortable I am. Everyone is staring at me while we wait, and their eyes continue to follow me across the room when we’re finally seated.
As we sit down, even the waitress lingers to watch me for an unnecessarily long time. What the hell is wrong with these people? Do they really think this is what I want? To be stared and leered at. Can’t I just have a quiet dinner with my mother?
Vanessa seems blissfully unaware as she continues to talk. Even if she did notice, she isn’t the type to be bothered by attention and would probably think nothing of it, maybe wonder why I’m even upset by it. I pick up my menu and stare intently at it, hoping the other patrons will get the idea and leave me in peace. The waitress finally leaves, but I still can’t relax. Is it just me or is everyone in here talking about me? I can hear them whispering…
“Hmm,” Mom purses her lips, her eyes scanning her own menu after finally taking a pause in her lifetime recap. “What sounds good to you, sweetie?”
I just shrug, I don’t know if I can manage to get anything down with all these eyes on me. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to look at the menu. I don’t care if they watch, I try to tell myself, fighting to block them out. I know this is a big deal for the town, to have a native return from the dead. But dammit, why do they have to be so blatant about it!
“Have you all decided,” the waitress nearly makes me jump when she returns. I can feel her almost touching me she’s standing so close.
“I think I’ll have the New York strip,” my Mom begins.
I drown her out, frantically trying to settle on something. Finally, I rattle off the item that’s underneath my thumb. The chipotle rubbed ribeye steak. It actually does sound pretty damn good. My mouth begins to water, taking my mind off the room full of ogling customers. I haven’t had a steak in four years. I can’t wait to sink my teeth into it… I take a deep breath, regaining a bit of my sanity just as Mom starts asking me about my plans for the future.
It’s natural that she wants to know what I’m going to do now for a career. But going to college at this point? After all I’ve been through?
I’m happy working as a mechanic. I enjoy working with my hands and putting in an honest day of work. I suppose I could take a welding class or something like that, just to reassure her that everything is fine and that I’m looking forward. I know she’s just trying to be supportive and help me stay focused, and I appreciate and I love her for being such a good mother, but I just need some space to breath. Smothering me isn’t the answer, she can’t shove me into a protective bubble and expect me to be alright. I’m sure she’ll realize that soon enough, but until she does…
My train of thought is cut off as my old coach from high school, Coach Hoolie, stops by our table. He claps me on the shoulder, grinning over at my Mom, who smiles back at him, not at all put off by the interruption.
“Hey there, son,” he gives my shoulder a manly squeeze, “it sure is good to see you again, boy. How you been doing?”
He has to be joking. He’s chatting at me like I just got back from a year of backpacking across Europe or something. I can’t believe I used to admire this moron, because right now I want to tell him to fuck off. All I want is to eat my medium rare steak, have a nice chat with my mother, and be left alone.
He doesn’t seem to notice how irritable my mood is, but I can tell my Mom is picking up on it. She can finally see I’m not enjoying the public setting, especially having Hoolie come over to the table to chat. For her sake alone, I struggle to be polite, listening and nodding my head as he goes on and on about the hockey season.
“We got a good team this year, Pierce, but I just don’t know,” he puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head. “Addington High’s team is hungry, damn hungry. I watched their last game against Delfield, they tore those poor boys up. But then, you know how it goes. Some you win, some you lose, that’s how the old battle is fought, ain’t it son?”
My smile is forced. Fighting a tough game of hockey is not comparable to fighting a war. I know he’s just trying to relate, but he’s never going to achieve that. Nobody can. Nobody should even try.
Our food arriving saves me from having to come up with a polite response and thankfully Hoolie has the decency to excuse himself and leave us to our meal. The juicy steak takes my mind off it. That first bite is like heaven. The flavor of the meat bursts in my mouth, driving away my frustrations and blocking out the restaurant around me. I dig into the meal with gusto, only half-heartedly listening to my mother as she tries to make further conversation. Eventually she gives up and leaves me to it, and for that I’m grateful. A steak this damn good should be consumed with the utmost love and affection.
“Good evening, Mrs. Tate,” a man approaches the table and I groan inwardly.
I might have told him to fuck off, had my mouth not been full of my final bite of steak.
“I’m Steven, the manager. I trust that your meal was to your satisfaction, yes?” His voice is dripping saccharine. “Can I get you anything else? Some dessert perhaps?”
“Oh yes, the meal was wonderful as always,” Vanessa gives him a polite smile. She glances my way and reads me like an open book; I don’t want anything else. “But I think we’re fine for right now, thank you though.”
