It Starts

by Avery Kirk

We arrived at a restaurant called Medley. I’d never been there before, but I’d heard of it. The outside was floor to ceiling windows, beginning on the second floor, with many gemstone colors on the exterior. Kevin pulled up to the valet stand, and instantly we had a valet at each of our doors. The guy who came to my door held out his hand for me. I felt like such an imposter. I took his hand and scooted off the truck’s seat, careful not to rip my dress.

  Kevin appeared on my right, valet ticket in hand. I looked him over, again noticing the slipper bulge in his lower front pocket. “You look really nice.” I said.

  He leaned in and whispered, “I look like a doorman next to you.” making me giggle.

  I found a seat in the bar area while he went to see about a table. We figured we might have a super long wait since we hadn’t made a reservation.

  The bar was backlit in violet and royal blue and had the restaurant name, Medley, in about six-foot mosaic letters constructed with chunks of iridescent glass. The letters were mounted on some type of silver mesh and moved freely as if a fan were blowing on them, making the word sparkle and seem alive. A randomly moving white spotlight from across the room added to the energy. The colors reminded me of peacock feathers.

  I ordered a couple of cocktails: Vernors and Vanilla Stoli for both of us. Kevin walked over with what looked like a chunky cell phone. He set it down on the black bartop in front of me.

  “They’ll call us on this when our table is ready,” he said.

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  Kevin nodded, taking a sip of his drink.

  We sat with our drinks and looked around. The bar was easily forty feet in length. The front was covered in mosaic tiles and seemed to be lit from a fixture mounted under the bartop. The stools were dark gray and had a brushed finish to them and a very modern design. The bartop had small oval tables extending from the bar, which seemed to be inspired by a 1920s look I had seen before. The mix of modern and old was super cool. The six bartenders were dressed in white shirts with shimmering vests on top.

  Kevin started chatting up a guy about football and the Lions, and their recent loss, when the restaurant phone vibrated and lit up.

  Kevin grabbed our drinks, and we walked over to the dining area. The tables were all covered in jewel-toned tablecloths and mesh hung from the ceilings with roaming lights above. The ceiling must have been about thirty feet high.

  We were escorted to a table and handed menus. I leaned in toward Kevin.

  “Kevin, this place is way too expensive!” I whispered urgently.

  “Oh stop. Just enjoy it. We’ve never come to a fancy place before. It’s a splurge and you deserve it,” he whispered back.

  I was a little overwhelmed by the menu and had no idea what most of the dishes were. Kevin must have noticed me looking around and at other people’s dinners.

  “Would you like me to order for you, miss?” he asked.

  Normally, I would object to someone ordering clothes and a dinner for me, but I was having fun not thinking much.

  “Yes. That would be great. Just nothing with beets, please.” I set my menu down, relaxing.

  “I know,” he said.

  Our waiter arrived with an arrangement of crusty bread on a teal see-through dish and explained the menu in way too much detail for me. I watched Kevin after I decided to ignore the waiter. He was perfectly confident and very handsome. He wasn’t used to fancy restaurants, either, but you would never have known it. He seemed so…worldly…suddenly. How did he know all this stuff? Of course, he could have been pronouncing it all wrong, and I would’ve never known.

  Kevin ordered us the scallop risotto, lobster and shrimp bisque, spinach salad, deep-fried lobster tails with tiny green beans, and fresh berries with cream. We talked about the restaurant, and he let me guess what we were going to do after.

  In the middle of the salad course, Kevin said abruptly, “So, I decided to bring you here at the last minute to celebrate something. Well, it might be more of an idea at the moment. But still…an opportunity. So, cause for celebration. I think.” He ended uncertainly, biting his lip.

  “What?” I said, with obvious anxiety.

  “Sooo… My Uncle Pete. He’s close to seventy now. You know?” I nodded. “Well, he has actually offered…to sell me the bike shop,” he said. Kevin looked as though he might explode. He had happiness all over his face. But, I noticed a bit of doubt as well.

  “Do you have the money for that?” I pictured my own bank account balances, trying to see if I might be able to help.

  “Oh, well, no. But I guess that’s the best part. He wouldn’t need any money now. He only wants payments over ten years and then the entire balance at that time,” he explained.

  “That’s great! Right? You seem happy about it. What did Lanie say?” I asked. I noticed by the guilty expression that rolled across his face that he hadn’t told her yet.

  “Well, yes, I’m happy. But I haven’t told her. I haven’t told anyone else yet. I guess, well…I guess I just thought I’d be some corporate type engineer and that would be our life. Khakis and a button-down shirt every day.” He rubbed his chin as he spoke. “But I think maybe I don’t really want that. I might be OK with being a small town business owner, you know? It just fits better in my mind. I like the interaction with people. The idiots don’t bother me too much, and they’re not the majority. I just feel as if I know what Lanie will say,” he added with disappointment. He took a deep breath.

  “I know she’ll worry that the big stores will be cheaper, and owning a small specialty shop will be a bad move. I know she’ll say in ten years that everyone will buy a bike at the same time that they buy milk and bread. But I feel as though I could make it a specialty experience, you know?” He stopped for a minute to take a sip of his drink, but he was looking at me at the same time.

  “I’ll fit people to the bikes, and I’ll adjust them and repair them and get to know their kids. I’ve got some marketing ideas for specials with pediatric doctor offices since they’re really pushing exercise and stuff.” He paused. “I’ve agonized over this for the last 24 hours, and I can honestly say that I think it’s a life I would be proud of. It’s not what I imagined initially, but that’s OK, right?” he asked, looking expectantly at me.

  He had an almost childlike expression of hope on his face. It was such a contrast to his suit and the restaurant that I couldn’t help but smile. I was thankful that he trusted me with this news.

  “I think it’s great. I can see you doing it and being happy there until you’re old and gray,” I said.

  “Exactly. I could buy a house nearby and walk to work—or ride my bike!” He laughed. “It’s a nice area. It’s like the land that time never touched.” He began to rub his chin again. I could hear the sound of his short beard moving under his fingers

  “It’s a super cute area. I might have to buy a house down the street. I want to be close to the best bike shop in Metro Detroit,” I said.

  Kevin raised one eyebrow. “See? Sounds good doesn’t it. You never know. Maybe I could expand the store and you could sell furniture on the other side. A bike shop slash furniture store,” he joked, taking a sip of his drink.

  His expression became serious again. “Do you think Lanie will freak?” he asked me, a trace of dread in his voice.

  I had no idea if she would freak so I worried about what I was going to say next. I tried not to pause for too long, thinking what to say because that would be an automatic ‘yes she’ll freak.’ I tried a different approach.

  “Do you think she’s the one?” I asked, gently. Because if the answer was no, then whether or not she would freak was irrelevant.

  Kevin rearranged himself in his chair and then leaned over his plate toward me. “Some days I’m sure of it.” He looked off into the distance as he considered his answer. “Well, most days I am. But I guess maybe I’m not positive just yet.”

  I paused, wording my next sentence carefully. “Well, maybe you should be sure that you do
what makes you happy while you have the option of only worrying about yourself. It’s your time to make decisions that will impact your whole life. Be a little selfish. Defend your dreams.” I gave a one-shoulder shrug, no doubt sounding a bit more profound than I meant to.

  Kevin laughed. “You sound like my mother.”

  “That’s a compliment,” I said.

  “I meant it that way, and it is a good point. I think I really want to do this, but I’m worried for a few reasons. It’s a big commitment. I do the books for the bike shop now so I know the income, and it’s not huge but it’s good. And I have some good ideas that would potentially bring in more business.” He seemed to be thinking while he spoke.

  “Your argument to Lanie could be that if it didn’t work out, it’s not as if you couldn’t change. People change their profession or take a different direction all the time, right?”

  “Right.” He was still staring into the distance.

  I eyeballed him. “So…did you decide just now that you’d do it?” I asked, teasing him.

  “I believe I just did,” he announced, holding his drink up to me. I raised my glass, and he said, “To life-changing decisions with one of my best friends who happens to look absolutely beautiful tonight.”

  “Cheers. And thank you. For everything.” I smiled.

  We took a cab over to the Renaissance Center where we rode the elevator to the very top. At the top was a bar with wraparound windows and views of the whole city as well as Windsor, Canada. We got a sunken table for two and ordered a couple of drinks to finish off the night. We both were quiet for a moment, looking over the view. I took my feet out of my shoes and stretched my toes. Kevin handed me my new slippers.

  “Thanks,” I told him. I’d actually forgotten about them.

  “You’re very welcome. So what about you?” he asked. “Are you happy?”

  “With these? They’re great,” I said as I put my feet in the super soft slippers.

  “Nah, I meant with life. Everything going OK?” he wanted to know.

  “I’m happy,” I said. “I’m still weighing my options in terms of whether or not I’m going to be a carpenter until the day I die. But I really like it.”

  “And you’re good at it. I still think you should investigate the furniture piece of it. Might be nice to do something like that. People love handcrafted furniture, you know?”

  I nodded, considering the idea. “Plus, I wouldn’t have to go to other people’s houses, which might be nice. I’d just have to get better at it. I kind of suck at it still.” I ran my finger along the top of my glass while I continued.

  “I remember when I first started doing my job—you know, helping Murray. He told me that he suggested it because he was intrigued by my ability to focus on a task and stick with it. I never considered that to be an ability—I thought it was just because I had a lazy mind—but he disagreed.

  “He took me on my first job at this big house on the lake and I said ‘Hi,’ all bubbly, to every worker we passed. We got in the kitchen, and he immediately scolded me. ‘Mel, I don’t want you being all fruity and nice to these guys or I’ll never be able to leave you alone if this works out. You’re here for your job—today your job is helping me. Dress like you hate yourself and act like you’re just plain pissed.’

  “I remember that I laughed, but he was very serious. ‘This is a big deal to me. Most of these guys are true gentlemen, but 10 percent are perverts, and 2 percent are criminals. And Mel, some of the gentlemen are perverts too. You work with new people all the time and you don’t know most enough to trust ‘em. You have to be uninviting and firm but not rude unless you have to be and then go ‘head and be rude. I’d rather that than you getting all giddy on them. Oh and make firm eye contact. You heard me? Firm eye contact.’” I did my best impersonation of Murray and laughed at the end.

  “He’s right,” Kevin said. “He’s a good guy.”

  I nodded. We were quiet.

  Kevin’s phone rang. He handed it to me. “It’s your grandpa.” He gave me an ‘eek’ face.

  I clamped my eyes shut before answering, realizing I hadn’t left a note. “Hi, Grampa. I should’ve left a note. I’m super sorry.”

  “Hey, honey, I talked to Dave. He was outside when I got home from bowling. Said he saw you leavin’ with Kevin in your pajamas. I just wanted to check on you for myself. Just to be sure. Just because it’s getting pretty late.”

  “Yeah, it was kind of an unexpected thing. We had dinner and stuff. We’re downtown.” I felt a little embarrassed at my grampa bringing up the pajamas.

  “Ok. I trust that you’ll be careful. I think Dave wanted to talk to you, so try to catch up with him tomorrow, ok?”

  “Ok”

  “I’ll leave the back door open for you, hon. See you in the morning.”

  “Ok, Grandpa. Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  Chapter 9: Unglued

  I rushed home on my lunch hour to check on the router bit set I was expecting for my grampa’s birthday. My grampa rarely checked for packages on the porch, so I had a good chance of seeing it before he did, even if he’d been home all day. As I turned into the driveway, I noticed that he wasn’t home, and the package was waiting on the porch. I grabbed it and tossed it on the floor on the passenger side of my truck, smiling to myself. I was really excited to give it to my grampa.

  As I pulled up the driveway the rest of the way, I saw Dave playing with a paddle ball in his backyard. I remembered the man in my dream making the cross-wrist movement with his arms held in front of his face. I vaguely wondered if it might be sign language and figured I’d ask Dave if it was anything he might understand since he used sign language regularly. He waved when he saw me. I stopped the truck, got out and walked toward him.

  “Hey, Dave, I have a quick question for you,” I said, cheerfully.

  “For me?” he said, pointing to his chest.

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “Someone did this sign and I wasn’t sure if it was just random or actually a word in sign language.” I demonstrated the fists with the crossed wrists for him in front of my face a couple of times.

  Dave made a funny expression, thinking hard. “Hmmmm,” he said. “I don’t know that one, but I’ll ask my teacher. I’ll see him on Tuesday.”

  I felt relieved that it might not mean anything at all. “That sounds great. No rush . It might be totally random. I’m gonna run and wrap my grampa’s gift. His birthday’s coming up. I’ll catch you later, Ok?” I started walking into the house.

  “OK, Melia. I’m going to work anyways,” Dave said, waving. He worked as a bagger at the grocery store down the street.

  I spun around. “Oh, hey Dave, my grampa said you needed to talk to me?”

  “Nah, I don’t think so. I was gonna ask your advice but I don’t need to anymore.” He said scratching his head.

  “Are you sure?” I said. He had never asked for my advice before.

  “Sure I’m sure, Melia. Go wrap that thing and stop driving around in your pajamas. Weirdo.” He laughed and turned to walk in the house.

  I smiled and ran into the house and opened the box with a butter knife from the kitchen. I wiped the knife on my pants and tossed it back into the drawer. I ran up to my room and opened the box. The router set was in a cardboard sleeve that I carefully slipped off to admire the very nice case. It was excellent.

  I didn’t want to open the box and look at the set, so it would be truly new when my grampa opened it. I slipped the cardboard sleeve back on and put the bit set in my armoire under a sweater and shut the doors. I decided that I would head downstairs to find something for lunch before I went back to work.

  I grabbed the empty box on the bed; it felt a little heavier than I expected. I looked in the box and noticed fabric in a plastic bag. I stopped for a minute and thought: I was certain that I didn’t order anything else. I decided that it must be a logo T-shirt as a giveaway from the manufacturer of the router bits. I impatiently clutched
the bag and tore open the plastic. It was a bright yellow T-shirt, clearly a woman’s cut. It read: ‘I’d rather be in Temecula.’

  Temecula. Temecula California. My stomach heaved and dread swept over me. I felt as though I had a weight sitting directly on my chest. I dropped to the floor. I remained still for a few minutes, my head resting on my bed. All that I’d been suppressing came flooding back to me. I felt overwhelmed.

  My hands shaking, I grabbed the receipt and the house phone and dialed the company’s phone number, pressing zero over and over to reach someone in customer service. Repeatedly, an automated voice began this sentence: “I’m sorry you’re having trouble.”

  It disconnected me. It actually disconnected my call. I hit the redial button and heard the many extra button pushes as I listened for the automated message to answer. I clamped my eyes shut and pressed a palm to my forehead while I tried to be as patient as I could manage, pressing the proper buttons to reach a customer service person.

  “Customer service. This is Mary. How may I assist you?”

  I cleared my throat in an odd way. “I am wondering why I got an extra item in my order and want to know if I ordered it,” I said, trying to keep my voice as calm as I could—although I spoke barely louder than a whisper.

  “Well, let me have your order number so I can retrieve that order for you,” she said.

  “It’s 4498882-778,” I replied, reading from the receipt.

  “OK, let me see here. Looks like you ordered the 25-piece router set. Did you receive that in your order?”

  “Yes, I have that. But I also received a shirt,” I said.

  “A shirt, ma’am? That’s strange. I don’t see a shirt on your order,” she said in a soothing tone.

  “Well, I’m standing here holding it!” I yelled as I shook the shirt in my clenched hand.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m just not showing a shirt shipped to you in your order history,” she said.

  I shook my head slightly, feeling speechless. I didn’t know what to do.

  “Do you have offices in California?”