by Dani Hart
“Barbecue sauce does not belong on pizza. It belongs on a barbecue. That’s why it’s called barbecue sauce.” I took a bite of my completely normal and plain cheese pizza with pizza sauce.
“Well, then somebody forgot to tell the owner.” He winked.
“Tell me what, James?” Mr. Hunter stood tall next to our table.
I nearly choked on my pizza as I looked up at yet another reminder of the past.
“William, when did you get back?” My dad wiped his hands on a napkin and stood to shake Mr. Hunter’s hand, also known as Wes’ dad.
It was dumb to feel somewhat shocked by his presence since he owned the bistro, but I wasn’t ready to see the Hunters back to business as usual like their absence went unnoticed. Wes looked a lot like his dad. Maybe he looked like his mom, too, but I would never know because she died when Wes was born. I had never even seen a picture of her, as if the memory of her was erased.
“I got your application, Abigail.” Mr. Hunter offered a positive smile.
I squirmed in my seat. I hadn’t told my parents that I was looking for a job, and in light of recent events, I had completely forgotten. Plus, had I known the Hunters were running the business again, I would have avoided applying at the bistro like the plague.
“Oh, Abby, you didn’t tell me you were looking for a job. You know if you need money you can just ask.” My dad’s jaw clenched.
My parents wanted me to focus on school and not worry about money, but I didn’t think he’d have such a revulsion to me working. His glare was making me uneasy.
“You’ve been gone,” I said uncomfortably.
Mr. Hunter broke the tension. “Well, I think it’s a great idea. Work builds character.”
There was that adult phrase again. Builds character. I smiled apprehensively, avoiding eye contact with my dad.
Mr. Hunter continued, “Why don’t you come in Monday after school for an interview?” He looked at my dad and then back to me.
“Sure. Monday,” I confirmed and took a large gulp of soda, fearing any more words would cause this situation to erupt.
“It was good catching up, James.” Mr. Hunter went for a handshake, my dad hesitating for just a second before he reciprocated this time. “Welcome back, William,” he finally replied politely and sat back down.
My pizza became the most fascinating thing in the universe as I tried to avoid the glare that was surely burning a hole in my forehead.
“Something you want to tell me?” my dad said as he laid his arms on the table.
“Dad, look, I know you and Mom said you would pay for everything that I needed, but I really want to save up my own money.” I searched his eyes to see if anything I was saying was softening the hard edge in the creases of his forehead.
“Okay, then tell me what you’re saving for.” He sat up even straighter, business-like.
“Well…umm.” I was starting to hyperventilate. I knew how this was going to go. The same way it always did. “A car.” I closed my eyes quickly and scrunched down in my seat. Surprisingly, my dad kept quiet, which was a vast improvement to the fight that exploded the last time I brought it up.
“Okay.” He smiled slightly.
“Okay?” Had I just heard that right? I peeked one eye open cautiously, searching his eyes for some sort of reverse psychology.
“You’re seventeen now, so maybe it is time for you to start driving.”
I released the deepest breath of my life. I hadn’t even planned this conversation, and it went way better than the ones I had rehearsed for days. I sat up straight and more confident.
“On one condition.” He lifted his finger.
My shoulders tensed. There it was. I knew it was too easy.
“I get to teach you. No one else. And especially not that Wes kid.” He took a bite of his barbecue pizza.
Not that Wes kid. He was the reason I hadn’t wanted to drive. The reason my parents never wanted me to drive again. My first time driving had been a monumental disaster that almost resulted in my death and had Wes fleeing. That was probably why he hesitated shaking Mr. Hunter’s hand. My dad never told me how that conversation went after the accident. I can’t imagine it went well.
As we walked to the car after dinner, a prickly sensation traveled down my spine. I glanced back at the restaurant and locked eyes with Wes who was leaning on the wall of the building, watching me. The intensity of his stare was as if he was trying to communicate something, but what was a complete mystery to me. I was never good at reading Wes, which was why when he left I was completely blindsided. I walked slowly, trying to savor his presence, my mind not fully convinced this was all real. Wes was back, but he was no longer my Wes.
He held his gaze on me as my dad backed out of the parking space, my heart barely beating. I peered over my shoulder as we pulled out of the lot, and sure enough, Wes was still watching me, and at the same time, ripping out my soul piece by piece.
When we got home, I had an unwelcomed guest. Natalie was waiting in my living room.
“Abigail,” she squealed as she jumped up from the couch, hugging me.
“Natalie, it’s been too long,” my dad acknowledged her warmly.
I glared in his direction. Traitor.
“It really has been.” She smiled widely.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to chat.” He disappeared into the kitchen where I heard him greet my mom.
I turned back to Natalie, grumbling to myself. “What are you doing here?” I was biting back what I really wanted to say.
“I thought I would just come by and see how you’re doing.”
The shrill in her voice was already getting on my nerves. Of course, she would come over and rub it in my face that Wes was back.
“I’m fine.” Not hiding the bitterness.
“I was just so worried after you fainted.” Her eyes widened with feigned concern.
“That was over a week ago.” She bounced around as if it was completely normal for her to be here talking to me.
He’s too good for you.
She walked around the room touching everything. Why was she here? Natalie Baker always had a reason, and it was usually because she wanted something.
“So, I know I don’t have to ask your permission or anything, but I wanted to be a good friend.”
A good friend? Who was she kidding?
“Wes is back in town, which you already know, and I just wanted to make sure you guys weren’t a thing. I mean, you were pretty obsessed with him before he left.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, letting her sentence hang without closure.
If blood could boil, mine would be bubbling over. “Yes, I know he’s back. No, you don’t need my permission.” Permission for what?
“Anyway, if you aren’t going out or anything…” she continued again, leaving the sentence unfinished.
It irritated me back when we were friends just as much as it did now. It was like she was showing her control of the conversation by leaving me hanging to wonder what she was going to say next, but really it was because she was too dumb to formulate full sentences. That was my guess anyway. “Are we done here?”
Natalie put her hand on her chest, feigning shock. “Well, excuse me. You don’t have to be so rude.” With her head up high, Natalie made her way to the door, throwing it open. “It was nice chatting, Abigail,” she mocked my dad’s words.
I slammed the door as she sauntered out, exaggerating the sway in her hips. Anger was fuming out of my ears, but visualizing Wes and Natalie together made me nauseous. And here I thought I couldn’t hate her any more than I already did. Every muscle in my body was clenched tightly. My nails were puncturing through the skin of my palms.
The doorbell rang, and I had just enough time to gain the courage to punch Natalie in the face. I threw it open and was poised to let loose when Kendra’s face met mine. She covered herself protectively.
“What the—Abby, what are you doing?” She waved her hands in front defensively.
> “Kendra! I’m so sorry. I thought you were Natalie.”
“So that was her.” Disgust filled her baby blues.
“Unfortunately. She wanted to tell me she was asking out Wes. Like I care.” I scoffed as bravely as I could muster.
Kendra squinted. “Hmmm. Okay, so what is the deal with you and Mr. Perfect?”
She slid by me and made herself comfortable on the couch. This conversation was inevitable, and it had finally caught up with me.
“Let’s go to my room.”
“Ooooh, it’s one of those conversations.” She jumped up gleefully.
“It doesn’t have an HEA, so settle down.” I led Little Miss Overexcited up the stairs.
“HEA?” she inquired.
“Seriously? Happily Ever After.” How could she not know that?
“Oh,” she said thoughtfully, followed by a less enthusiastic, “oh,” when realization hit her.
I listened for my parents to make sure they were still downstairs and then closed my door softly and headed immediately over to my window seat. Kendra sat on the bed across from me, watching. Waiting.
“Wes and I were close.” A blush overtook me as I admitted it aloud for the first time.
“Define close.” Her head tilted toward me curiously.
“Not like that. We never even kissed.” Disappointment hovered over my words. “We were just really good friends.” There was silence as we both digested the information.
“But you wanted to kiss him,” she stated.
Shamefully looking out the window, I whispered, “Yes.”
Kendra joined me on the window seat.
“Abby, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’re teenagers. We were built to be boy crazy. So you liked a guy who happened to be a friend, and happened to be drop-dead gorgeous. I bet every girl was crazy about him. Is crazy about him.”
“Not helping.” I was on the precipice of a breakdown, and I didn’t want to be. I just wanted… I don’t know what I wanted. Or maybe I did, and that was what scared me.
“You love him.” Kendra’s eyes searched carefully for the answer.
She didn’t say loved, as in past tense. She said love, as in right now.
“Yeah.” Simple. I was in love with Wes Hunter whether he loved me back or not.
Being the great friend she was, Kendra let it go. We sat and watched the winds whip around the defenseless trees, breaking off branches and stripping them of leaves. Storms were both magnificent and terrifying to watch, unpredictable and unforgiving. It seemed like the storms would never end.
After Kendra left, I kept replaying Wes’ visit, analyzing every word he said and how he said it.
I wanted to see you.
He said it twice, unflinching and confident. He wasn’t the same Wes who had left me. He had somehow changed. Matured. But there was something else. The way he looked at me. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it almost felt like desperation. When he was standing in my living room, something so surreal that I had imagined for years, I knew I felt the same way. I was a fraction of myself without him, hollowed and broken. His mixed signals were maddening. If he missed me, why was he avoiding me? Was he embarrassed of me? My ordinary couldn’t stand up to his extraordinary? Were we doomed from the start? Our friendship was so unlikely, yet we were drawn to each other from day one. The day he came to town felt like the first day of the rest of my life.
I kicked my feet out as hard as I could, wanting to fly high with the birds, loving the wind in my hair.
Back and forth, sand then sky, giggling as my legs took me higher.
The clanking of chain on chain pulled me from my imaginary flight, and looking over at Wes Hunter, who had come out of nowhere and was pumping his legs, trying effortlessly to catch up with me, a small smile crossed his mouth. Without a word, we swung side by side, the energy increasing between us as our feet touched the sky.
Back and forth, sand then sky, no longer alone.
Then the bell rang, alerting us to the world that expected our return. Feet to sand, we slowed down in sync, hanging onto the gentle rocking as our eyes met and unspoken words crossed from him to me and me to him. The strangeness of his eyes sucked me in, and only when the bell rang again did they release their hold on me. He slid off his swing gracefully and held out his hand. I took it obediently, beguiled by this beautiful boy who stood in front of me, who chose to join me in the sky rather than with the boys in the yard. Goose bumps traveled up my arm as his fingers interlaced with mine, leading me back to reality.
SUNDAY MORNING BREAKFAST with both of my parents was a rare event, but nice. I exchanged cereal for my dad’s famous pancakes. It was his life’s purpose to try to replicate the perfect restaurant pancake buttered with crispy edges. My mom and I teased him incessantly about it.
He placed two pancakes onto my plate.
“I still can’t figure out how they cook it so evenly. Maybe it’s those industrial griddles.” His brows furrowed as he tried to uncover the big pancake secret.
My mom and I shared a laugh. “Dad, they’re great.”
“Oh, James, really. You have been to restaurants all over the world. It’s hard to compare pancakes from France, to Greece, to here. You’ve obsessed over this for years,” my mom teased.
“Lucinda, I am a chef at heart, and I swear on my grave that I will get them perfect.” The frustration from his face faded. “Okay, maybe not my grave.” He cracked a smile. “This is nice. We should do it more often.” He shared a knowing look with Mom.
“It is,” my mom agreed.
“So, Dad, when do you leave again?”
My dad was never around for very long. He was a highly sought-after software engineer, so companies flew him all over the world to work with him. I always assumed if it was computer related it could be done from home, but apparently not. He made good money, but I could tell it wasn’t about the money for him. He loved to travel, and when he went to new places, he would always bring me home something. Well, he used to, anyway. It dwindled as I reached puberty. I kind of missed it now.
My dad sat down with a pile of pancakes on his plate.
“Dad!” We all stared at the Eiffel Tower of pancakes and laughed.
“What? I’m hungry,” he teased defensively.
I took another bite, waiting for him to answer my question.
“Your mom and I have been talking…”
Oh no. Nothing good ever came out of a conversation starting with your mom and I have been talking.
“Okay,” I dragged out slowly, putting my fork down, losing my appetite.
My parents exchanged looks again.
“I’m not going to travel as much. I’m only going to accept local jobs and work from home as much as I can.”
To say I was shocked would be grossly understated. Ever since I could remember, he’d been gone more than he’d been home.
“That’s great, Dad, but why?”
The timing seemed odd, what with the Hunters back in town. I knew how he felt about Wes, and he didn’t seem to buddy up to Mr. Hunter last night.
“I’m getting too old to travel, and I feel like I’ve missed so much of you growing up. You’ll be eighteen next year, and I want to spend as much time with you as possible before something swoops you off your feet.”
Or someone.
“Dad, you’re only thirty-seven.” I laughed.
My mom had me when she was eighteen and my father twenty. They were very young and still got rude comments about it.
“Have you applied to any colleges yet?” he inquired.
“Colleges? No, not yet. It’s too early.” I pushed my plate away, no longer hungry. He was phishing, but what bothered me most was not knowing why. He couldn’t be that concerned about Wes, could he? Or was he really just feeling nostalgic? My foot fidget started as seconds suddenly felt like minutes.
“Maybe we can start driving tomorrow after school,” he suggested.
His voice was more of a challenge than a sugge
stion. He knew I had the job interview.
“I have that interview at the bistro tomorrow, remember?” I dug my hands in my lap and chewed on the inside of my lip, waiting for an argument.
“That’s right. I forgot.” He dug into his pancakes.
“Your father told me the Hunters were back. Have you seen Wes?”
My mom always liked Wes, but she never mentioned him again after the accident. I think them leaving was a relief on everyone, except me.
“No, I haven’t,” I lied, not divulging that he stood in our living room only two days ago. They seemed satisfied with my answer and left me alone the rest of breakfast. The second my dad stood up, I jumped out of my seat, put my plate into the dishwasher, and raced out of the kitchen.
“HOW WAS THE DANCE?” I asked Kendra who bounced beside me on our way to school.
The storms were taking a break, and the temperature was forecasted to reach mid-seventies. I could use some sunshine and less sloshing in my shoes.
“Honestly? Kind of lame, and Donny was a complete dud. Natalie can have him back. I’m pretty sure I’m within the thirty-day return policy.” She laughed.
“I’m sure he’s already groveling at her feet.”
“Speaking of feet, when are you going to toss those sneakers?”
Kendra wasn’t shy about her disapproval of some of my fashion choices.
“First of all, they aren’t sneakers. They are Chucks. And second of all, you don’t just throw away something because they are a little rough around the edges.” My defense would totally hold up in a courtroom.
“Abby, there’s a hole wearing in the toe,” she shrieked.
I wiggled my big toe, stretching the white rubber to reveal the infamous hole.
“They’re my favorite,” I claimed simply.
“Then just get a new pair.”
Miss Obvious was trying to be helpful, but if she knew what these red shoes symbolized, she would give me a fashion pass.
“I will take your suggestion under careful consideration.” Although, I couldn’t imagine parting with them. Ever.
“You have that interview today, right?” She happily changed the subject.
