by Emma Quinn
Rachel – Ur a grandma.
Dianna – Hahaha respect your elders, please.
Rachel – You’re the worst, but I love you.
I sent her a kissing face emote. I glanced at the alarm clock on my nightstand. It really was only 7:00 PM. I’d admittedly filled up on coffee and biscuits while out with Nathan, so I wasn’t that hungry. But knowing me, I’d likely wake up around two or three in the morning craving something to eat, so I might as well get something in my system.
I ventured over to the kitchen –literally only three steps away– and rummaged through one of the cupboards above the stove and retrieved a packet of spicy ramen noodles. I could afford to eat better. I wasn’t a broke college student anymore, but there was something comforting about the cheap noodle packets and MSG. Grandma taught me how to make a stir-fried version where the sauce was a little thicker, and Grandpa always soft-boiled three eggs into the soup for added protein. I didn’t use to like the way they prepared instant ramen, but now, I couldn’t have enough. It was simple, filling, and fast to make.
And since I wasn’t preparing meals for two anymore, it was perfect.
With the ramen prepping on the stove, I decided to send Nathan a picture. The lighting in the kitchen was nice and bright, so the color of the silky noodles against red sauce was incredibly vibrant.
My heart swelled in my chest when Nathan responded almost immediately.
Nathan – Have you considered an Instagram page? You’d be good at it.
Dianna – I used to have one, but I kind of gave up on it.
Nathan – Why?
I dished up my food before sending a reply, sitting down on the floor between my bed and the coffee table.
Dianna – It’s going to sound stupid, but I’d see all these random pictures of people on holidays or living lavishly and I’d get super jealous. I decided to leave the platform because I was insecure.
Nathan – Don’t be. You know it’s all fake, right?
I smiled softly at my phone screen.
Dianna – I know, but still. I think it’s better if I just don’t engage.
Nathan – That’s fair.
Dianna – What are you having for dinner?
The picture he sent me made my mouth water. The image of off-center and the angle was too steep, so it caught the shadow of the camera and his hands, but I was just nitpicking. He was having a grilled steak with what looked to be baked beans, honey-glazed carrots, a few slices of peach on the side for sweetness, and a single scoop of mashed potatoes. There was a glass of red wine just behind his plate, half-full.
Dianna – Oh, wow. You put my dinner to shame. Did you make that?
Nathan – I did. You could always come over and I can cook for you.
I mindlessly slurped down my spicy noodles and tried to contain my excitement.
Dianna – That was really smooth.
Nathan – I thought so.
Dianna – Dinner sounds great. When are you free next?
Nathan – My schedules pretty flexible. Most nights and weekends. I can work around you.
I giggled as I nibbled on my bottom lip. Nathan seemed too good to be true. Tommy was rarely ever this considerate. I always had to move my plans around to fit his. If we didn’t end up spending any time together, he always managed to pin the blame on me and get frustrated that I wasn’t making an effort. In hindsight, Tommy really was a jerk sometimes. I should have noticed he wasn’t who he made himself out to be sooner.
Dianna – How about tomorrow at eight? Or is that too soon?
Nathan – Eight works for me. I can pick you up if you’d like.
My heart squealed giddily while my stomach did a triple flip. If it had entered into the Olympics, my stomach likely would have earned straight tens from the judges.
I liked Nathan. He seemed like a standup kind of guy. But I wasn’t willing to give him my home address right away. There wasn’t any need to rush things, or for him to know where I lived just yet. This time around, I promised myself that I was going to take things slow and steady.
Dianna – Could you pick me up from in front of Cup o’ Joe’s?
Nathan – I’ll be there. See you tomorrow.
I found myself smiling so wide that my cheeks were beginning to hurt. I hadn’t felt this excited to see someone in a very long time. Everything was new and electric, full to the brim of endless possibilities. The hopeless romantic in me really wanted to see where this would all go.
Maybe he’s the one.
After what happened with Tommy, maybe this is the universe’s way of paying me back.
8
Nathan
“ W
ho’re you texting?” Matty chimed in, sliding right up onto my desk. He nearly knocked over a stack of documents I’d painstakingly reviewed and organized for an executive meeting next week.
I turned my phone face-down on the desk and frowned. “Nobody.”
Matty pumped his eyebrows at me, wearing an annoying grin. “Is it that blonde chick from the party?”
“No.”
“If I guess correctly, will you tell me?”
“No.”
“Are you going to keep saying ‘no?’”
“No.”
Matty sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “How are we even friends?”
“I ask myself that all the time.”
“Shut the hell up. I know you love me.”
“If that’s what you need to tell yourself to get to sleep at night, go ahead.”
He let out a dry laugh. “Seriously. Who you texting?”
“It was a business email.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You don’t smile like an idiot at business emails,” he said pointedly. “I know you better than that. It’s that woman, isn’t it? The one from the party.”
I declined to answer. Instead, I turned to face my work computer and begin drafting up a few talking notes that I wanted to discuss at the next meeting. Monteverde was making steady profit, but I wanted to find a way to rise to the challenge against our competitors. If we were going to stand a chance against established e-commerce sellers, we needed to be more aggressive while remaining as sustainable as possible. There was no point in expanding business if we spent all of our assets trying to achieve new levels of productivity. Too big to fail wasn’t a concept I was willing to gamble my life’s work on.
Two knocks sounded at the door. I looked up to find Alison already stepping in despite my express say so.
“Mister Alexander,” she greeted with a chipper smile, “I just wanted to confirm your meeting next week for the corporate spread we’re running.”
“Yes, yes. Thank you, Alison. Will that be all?”
Matty glared at me like I had two heads. “Hey now,” he chided, “no need to send the pretty lady off in a rush. She’s only trying to help you stay organized.” His attempted flirting was so painfully obvious, but Alison didn’t appear to pay him any mind. “What’s this about a spread?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. Why I let Matty hang out in my office while I was busy with work was beyond me. I didn’t exactly let him, per se. He just liked to wander in sometimes and pester me into joining him for drinks or to go to parties whenever he felt like. No matter how many hints that I dropped, Matty never clued in to leaving me alone. The only reason I tolerated this behavior was because Matty wasn’t actually that bad. He was amusing, and deep down, his heart was in the right place.
He could learn to work on his boundaries, though.
“Mister Alexander and Monteverde are going to be interviewed next week,” Alison explained on my behalf, looking rather proud. “A few of the executive members of the board decided it was about time he did a promotion piece to really get Monteverde’s name out there.”
Matty’s eyes widened. “You hate interviews.”
“Yes,” I mumbled. “I know.”
“They’re going to take your picture
and everything?”
“Yes.”
He rubbed his hands together. “Oh, my God. Please tell me I can come and watch. I want to be there when the photographer tells you smile.”
“Alison, would you please see Matty out. He’s being a nuisance.”
“Come on, don’t be like that.”
My phone dinged. There was a new text message waiting for me. I was about to reach for the device, but Matty beat me to it. He practically flung himself across my desk to snag it.
“Ooh,” he crooned. “Who’s Dianna? Was that the blondie?”
“Give it back,” I snapped.
“‘I was thinking about bringing a bottle of wine for tonight. Do you prefer red or white?’” Matty read Dianna’s message to my aloud, escaping to the other side of the office to continue snooping. “Looks like someone has a hot date.”
“Jesus Christ,” I hissed. “Matthew, give my phone back. Don’t make me call security on you again.”
“Fine, fine,” he said with a defeated sigh, tossing it back to me. He threw a casual wink over his shoulder at Alison. “When he calls me ‘Matthew,’ I know I’m in deep shit.”
Alison was as cold and unmoving as an iceberg. She held the office door open for him and gestured with her free hand. “This way, Mister Lopez. Mister Alexander has a lot to do.”
“Tell me how your date goes,” he said over his shoulder. “I want all the sexy deets.”
“Absolutely not,” I replied.
I wasn’t the kind of guy who was easily surprised. Sudden loud noises, unexpected difficulties –I could handle anything thrown my way.
But this? This I wasn’t expecting.
Dianna was standing by the curb, dressed in a cute red and white polka dot sundress with a thin jean jacket over top. She was still in the same white sneakers that she wore before, but she looked to have cleaned them off. Her hair was down this time, obvious effort having gone into the flowing curls that pooled over her tiny shoulders. She’d curled her eyelashes and added a bit of mascara to accentuate the glimmer of her ocean blue eyes. Her plump lips were shiny with a hint of pink-tinted gloss.
I pulled the car up to the curb and unlocked the passenger-side door, rolling down the window to get a clear look at her. Dianna was stunning. Simple, yet elegant. She wasn’t trying hard with overly flashy designer labels, or covering up any flaws with heaps of makeup. Dianna was once again dressed for comfort, her bubbly personality complimenting the vibrancy of her dress.
“Hey, stranger,” I greeted.
She leaned forward to peer into the car. “Hey, you.”
“Were you waiting long?”
“No, I just got here,” she said as she slipped into the seat, closing the door behind her. “Where we headed, Jeeves?”
I chuckled. “You’ll see.”
We drove for about a half an hour, effectively leaving the city lines of LA towards Joslynville. The line of decorative palm trees began to transform into nothing more than dry under brush, while towering buildings were replaced by smaller homes and trailers. There wasn’t a single home with a green lawn, blades of grass all left to wither and burn under the hot Californian sun.
The economic disparity out here was obvious. I could tell just by looking at the state of the roads and the fact that there were very few high-end cars in the area. It had been a while since I’d visited Joslynville, so I was surprised to see all of the sprawling development at the center of town, which had ultimately pushed poorer families towards the outskirts in the name of innovation and growth.
The Soup Kitchen –it really was a no-nonsense kind of name– was surprisingly empty for eight in the evening. I parked the car around back and got out with Dianna.
“What are we doing here?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“I’m here to cook you dinner,” I said wryly.
Patty Hops was the first to greet us when we entered through the Soup Kitchen’s back doors. She was a short, plump woman with a bright red nose and beady eyes. Her thinning brown hair was frazzled from the humidity of the kitchen, and a thick layer of sweat covered her brow and dripped down the sides of her face. She walked right over and trapped me in a bear hug.
“Nate!” she exclaimed. “You’re here!”
“Hello, Patty. How are you doing?”
“Much better now that you’ve arrived. Thank you so much for your donation earlier this morning. My eyes almost fell out of my head when I saw the check.”
“There’s no need to thank me. I’m just sorry I haven’t been able to pop by in a while. Did you manage to stock up on everything you needed?”
Patty puffed her chest out proudly and grinned. A few of her front teeth were missing, and the rest were stained yellow from years of smoking.
“You bet your cute ass I did. We should be good until the end of the month thanks to you.” She laughed. That was when she spotted Dianna out of the corner of her eye, proceeding to shoot me a mischievous look. “And who’s this lovely young lady? A volunteer?”
“No, no. She’s my date.”
Dianna threw Patty an adorable little wave. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”
Patty reached up and pinched my cheek. “Look at you, bringing pretty girls home. I don’t think you’ve ever done that before.” She waddled up to Dianna and shook her hand, spinning her around to get a good look. “Well, aren’t you just candy on the eyes.”
Dianna blushed hard. “Oh, that’s sweet of you to say.”
“How’d you meet my Nate?”
“Your Nate?”
Patty chuckled. “He’s my boy. Well, my foster boy. Raise that little brat up all on my own for five years.” She nudged Dianna gently in the arm with the tip of her elbow. “I did a pretty damn good job, huh?”
Dianna broke out into a grin. “Yes. I certainly think so.”
Patty patted her on the back and urged her over towards me. “Well, I promise I won’t keep the two of you. I’ve got mouths to feed.” She turned to me. “And call Pops once in a while, would you? She misses you.”
I nodded. “I’ll try to call her on the weekend. Things have been pretty busy.”
“Sure, sure. My boy’s too busy running an entire–”
“Anyways,” I cut her off before Patty could out me. I gestured towards one of the empty preparation tables in the kitchen. “Dianna, shall we?”
The Soup Kitchen’s kitchen was nice enough, though it was cramped and smaller than I would have liked. When Matty and I found this place years ago, it used to be an old pizzeria that was going out of business. It took very little effort on our part to repurpose the existing kitchen area and upgrade it with a new eight-element stove, two stainless steel ovens, a couple of smaller preparation tables, and insert an additional fridge for fresh ingredients.
I brought out a stool for Dianna to sit down on before tying a navy blue apron with the Soup Kitchen’s logo on the front.
“What are you craving?” I asked.
Dianna nibbled on her bottom lip. “You’re asking me?”
“Yes, I’m asking you.”
“A-are you sure we should be using this place’s food? Aren’t there– I don’t know. Aren’t there hungry people this place needs to feed?”
I chuckled. “Don’t worry. I was planning on making extra to serve to the folks up front. You just have to tell me what’s on the menu.”
Dianna hesitated, looking up at the ceiling as she thought long and hard. “I don’t want to trouble you with something too complicated.”
I shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t mind. The more complicated, the more I get to impress you, right?”
She giggled, airy and light. “My request is going to sound really basic.”
“Try me.”
“Spaghetti and meatballs?”
I grinned. “Coming right up.”
The Soup Kitchen naturally had everything I was going to need. They even had boxed spaghetti noodles. But there was nothing quite like noodles made from scratch, so I got to
folding my own dough before passing it through a pasta extruder I remembered purchasing for Patty a few years back.
Diana’s eyes never left me. She seemed intrigued by the movement of my hands as they worked.
“Who taught you how to cook?” she asked me softly, seemingly mesmerized by knife skills as I finely chopped a white onion.
“Patty,” I said. “She used to be a professional chef. Taught me a few things when I was under her roof.”
“Maybe I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure.”
“How long were you in foster care?”
I smiled gently at her before scooping up the freshly cut pasta and gently laying it into a pot of boiling salted water. Fresh pasta like this would be done in under three minutes, so I had to make sure to keep a watchful eye on it.
“I was in an out of the system since I was thirteen,” I explained. The tomato sauce was simmering nicely, bits of chopped basil, carrots, and onion lending its flavors wonderfully.
“That must have been really rough,” she said softly.
“Yeah, it was. But then Patty took me in. She and her wife, Poppy –we just call her Pops– were really kind to me. I’d gone through maybe three of four homes before they took me in. They were the first family I decided not to run away from.”
“That’s awesome. I mean, not that you bounced around the system. That you found a good family.”
I chuckled. “I knew what you meant.” I turned to take the meatballs out of the oven. They smelled absolutely divine, the nuttiness of the parmesan I’d mixed into them rising into the air. “What about you? What’s your family like? You’ve mentioned your grandparents a couple of times.”
Dianna smiled, but there was a look of hesitation behind her eyes.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, of course,” I added quickly for good measure.
“No, no. It’s fine. I actually don’t know my parents.”
I frowned. “Oh.”
“It’s okay. My father left before I was born, and my mother passed away when I was five. Breast cancer.”
My stomach lurched. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”
Dianna shook her head. “It’s really okay. My grandparents took me in shortly after and raised me on their own.”
