by Hazel James
I pull into my driveway and reach for my backpack when I remember the writing on my hand.
I laugh and reach for my phone.
Me: So was it?
James: Nope. It was sort of dry. You should get some hand cream.
Rachel is the best kisser on the planet.
Rachel Tennyson
Rachel Lynn Tennyson
Mrs. Rachel Tennyson
Mr. and Mrs. James Tennyson
“Good morning, son.” Gran shuffles into the kitchen in her signature pink terrycloth robe and matching slippers. I’m pretty sure she’s bought the same set from QVC since 1986. I bend down to give her a hug and realize she fits entirely under my chin now. Her hair is much thinner than it used to be, but she still dyes the gray away. Her robe all but swallows her. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was shrinking.
“Hey, Gran.” I wipe the sleep from my eyes and yawn. The coffee pot beeps, and I say a silent thank you to the person who first combined coffee beans and hot water.
“Did you forget it’s Saturday? This is the first weekend I’ve seen you this side of noon.”
“No, today’s my first day at the Sweet Pea. I wanted to get some coffee before I took off. You want some?” I hold the coffee pot in her direction.
“No, but I’ll thank you for some tea.”
I reach for a tea bag in the cabinet and set the kettle on the stove. For as long as I can remember, Gran’s had this kettle. It’s one of the things that make her kitchen hers. Along with her pies, Gran’s kettle has been a constant in my childhood memories. “Remember when you used to make me hot chocolate because I didn’t like tea? Except that I wanted to drink out of one of your fancy cups?”
She gazes upward, lost in memory, and laughs. “You were so particular too. It had to be the blue china cup or you’d pitch a fit the size of North Carolina. You’d say it’s because—”
“The blue cup makes it taste better,” we say in unison.
“And I’m still right,” I say, holding the same cup, this time filled with black coffee.
“I don’t know how you and your grandpa drink that stuff without any sugar or milk. It’s a wonder it doesn’t set your innards on fire.”
“Maybe you should try it out of the blue cup,” I tease. The kettle starts to sing and I pour Gran’s tea.
“So who’s the girl?”
“Who’s what girl, Gran?” She quietly stares at me and I can’t help but smile. “Her name is Rachel.”
We’ve talked every night this week and usually text for a few hours after her phone curfew. She’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met and I’m still mad that I went almost eighteen years without knowing her. I feel like I’ve been cheated. “How’d you know I like a girl?”
“Son, you’ve had your phone glued to your hand or your head all week, and you’ve been walking around here grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Now you’re up at 6 a.m. on a Saturday and you’re not even cursing. She must be something special.”
“She really is, Gran. I can’t explain it. I’ve only known her for five days. That’s not even long enough for milk to spoil. But I can’t get this girl out of my head.”
“James, don’t let timelines keep you from your feelings. The heart knows what it wants. It’s the head that usually gets in the way.”
“Well, in our case, it’s her dad. Rachel runs track and he doesn’t want her dating because he thinks it’s a distraction.” I hate not being able to take her out or be with her after school. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for FaceTime, but we’re gonna have to figure something else out soon.
“You just focus on Rachel. All of that other mess will work itself out.”
“How did you and Grandpa meet?”
“Oh, it was such the scandal,” she says, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “I was engaged to George Calloway. He was the sheriff’s son, you know. Two weeks before the wedding, I was working my shift at Ruby’s Drive-In and this handsome fellow comes up and orders himself a chocolate malt. I’d seen him around town, but we ran in different circles. I teased him because he was alone on a Friday night. You know what he said?” She pauses and takes a sip of tea. “He said, ‘I’m just waiting on the right girl,’ then he winked and walked away. I didn’t see him again until the day of my wedding. George and I were at the altar and the preacher got to the part where he asked if anyone had any reason for us to not get married. Here comes your grandpa bursting through the door, straight out of a movie. He ran down the aisle and said, ‘Pearl, you can’t marry this man because I’m in love with you!’ I tell you, the whole church gasped, and my mama passed out cold. George’s daddy threatened to have your grandpa arrested for disturbing the peace.”
“What did you do?” I can’t help but laugh thinking about my quiet grandpa running into the church like a love-struck fool.
“Well, I asked him what his name was, for starters. Then I looked at George and said, ‘I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have a chocolate malt with my friend Jimmy. I grabbed a hold of your grandpa’s hand and I never let go. That was fifty-five years ago.” She sighs with contentment.
“Just like that, you walked away from your fiancé for someone you didn’t even know?”
“Like I said, it was a scandal. But I already knew the most important thing about your grandpa—his heart was pure. I didn’t know until I met him that I was never in love with George. I felt like my life began in that church the moment he barged in. Your grandpa saved me from a life of mediocrity and replaced it with love and passion and adventure.” She squeezes my hand. “You’re an old soul, just like him.”
“You said that was fifty-five years ago?”
“That’s right.”
I count backward in my head. “That made you 18 years old. How on earth did you know you were ready to get married at eighteen?”
“The heart knows what it wants. You just gotta be smart enough to listen to it, James.”
“Thanks for the advice, Gran.” I down the last of my coffee and put my cup in the dishwasher. “Hey, what kind of pie are you baking today?”
“Blueberry and cherry.”
“Mmmm, my favorites.” I lean over and kiss her on the cheek.
“That’s what you say about every pie I make,” she says, swatting me on the shoulder.
“Why don’t you consider selling them?”
“Please, I’m no Betty Crocker.”
“You’re right, you’re Pearl Glenn. Betty Crocker doesn’t have squat on you.” I grab my keys and head out the door.
“Order up!” Fletcher Strickland hits the bell, signaling me. He’s pretending to be a blond-haired, blue-eyed Wanya Morris as the radio belts out I’ll Make Love to You. As I get closer to the window, I see him singing into his spatula and realize he’s changing the words.
I’ll cook eggs for you
And some hash browns too
It’s gonna taste so right
When you take a big bite
I’ll cook eggs for you
And some hash browns too
Here’s a slice of rye toast
And some orange juice
“That was quite impressive,” I shout. Fletcher nods and smiles, then assembles the ingredients for the next ticket. I knew we’d get along about fifteen minutes into our shift when we both started singing along to the chorus of Livin’ on a Prayer by Bon Jovi.
“Here you go,” I say, setting the plate down on table four. “Eggs Benedict, two slices of rye toast, and hash browns. Does everything look okay?”
The man in the chair just stares at me. I tap my finger on my ear in response, and he flicks on his hearing aid.
“Does everything look good?”
“Yes, it does, young man,” he says, surveying his plate. I refill his OJ and leave him to his breakfast.
“How ya doin’ Fletcher?” I ask across the window.
“Just another day in paradise, dude.” He flips a pancake like a pro and starts an omelet for table twelve. It’s lik
e watching a teenage Emeril Lagasse.
“How in the world do you do that?”
“What, this?” he asks, flipping another pancake.
“Now you’re just showing off,” I laugh.
“I’ve been doing this shit since I was eight. My mom had surgery, and my dad can’t cook to save his life. So I got in the kitchen and sort of fell in love. I’m going to culinary school next year, but Devin’s letting me cook here in the meantime. I think she likes it because she can pay me minimum wage and I don’t bitch about taking the early weekend shifts.” He plates the omelet and pancakes, and I make my way to table twelve. Judging by the early morning crowd, Devin and the customers are well aware of Fletcher’s skills.
“Here y’all are.” I set the pancakes down in front of the girl from Economics and the omelet in front of her guest. “It’s Gretchen, right?” She was out of school on Thursday and Friday. Judging by the look on her boyfriend’s face during class, there is trouble in paradise.
“Yeah.” She exchanges a panicked look with the girl sitting across from her.
“I’m James, the new guy in second period.”
“Hey, James.” She looks over my head, past my shoulder, anywhere but my face. It doesn’t take a psychic to put two and two together.
“It looks like you’re getting an early start to your day. Whatcha have planned?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood. We haven’t officially talked until now, and I don’t want our first conversation to end badly.
“Oh, just going to the Outer Banks with my best friend, Lainey,” she says, gesturing to her guest.
“The Banks in January? That’s hardcore.”
“We’re not swimming,” Lainey says. “My parents have a timeshare out there, and no one ever uses it this time of year. We’re loading up on chick flicks and ice cream.”
“Uh oh. Isn’t that what girls do after a breakup?” I ask, looking at Gretchen.
“Yeah, I broke up with Billy a few days ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “He just wasn’t the right… person for me.”
“It’s about time,” Lainey says as she covers her omelet in pepper. “There’s no use in being with someone who doesn’t make you happy. Especially when there are people out there who will make you happy.” She gives Gretchen a knowing glance.
“Well, it looks like you’ll have some good company this weekend. Me, I’m cleaning out my closet after I get off work. I figure it’s important to really get in there and see what’s what, you know? Gotta make sure I get rid of all the stuff that’s just not ‘me’ anymore.”
Gretchen and Lainey stare at me quizzically. Hopefully, they understand the meaning behind my message. Gretchen deserves to be happy.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you at school, Lainey. Do you go to Edison?”
“No, I’m homeschooled.”
“How’d you and Gretchen meet?”
She smiles, the first one I’ve seen all morning. “We actually met in a chat group. I know, it’s dumb,” she adds quickly.
I don’t tell her that I know it was a “Lesbian teens in Durham” group.
“No way, it’s always nice to connect with someone who shares the same interests as you. I can tell you two have a very special friendship, and I hope y’all have a great time this weekend. Let me know if I can get anything else for you before you head out.” Fletcher rings the bell for the next order, and I return to the window.
The diner gets busier as the morning progresses. A few more waiters and cooks show up, and Devin stopped in to see how my first day is going. Fletcher and I have been hanging out in between orders. I think I have the pancake flip mastered, but I could use some more practice with omelets. We ad-libbed a few duets and earned some applause from the people sitting at the bar. I found out he plays guitar too, so we’re planning to hang out one day soon and jam. As far as jobs go, this one has been pretty cool so far. At noon, Avery walks in for her shift, and Fletcher’s face lights up like Christmas.
“You’re totally busted, bro.”
“What’d I do?”
“Nothing, but you might wanna turn down that smile a couple of notches.”
“What smile? I’m not smiling. I’m making a BLT. This is some serious shit right here. Requires intense focus and dedication.” He methodically flips three slices of bacon to prove his point.
“My mistake. I could have sworn you were focusing on the pint-sized waitress who just came on shift.” I throw a crouton at his face and head to the front of the dining room where Avery’s rolling silverware in napkins.
“What’s shakin’ Avery?”
“Hey, Beef-in-law. Your first morning going good?”
“No complaints from me. I’ve been chilling with Fletcher getting some culinary lessons in between taking orders. He’s pretty damn good.” The door jingles, and Rachel walks through. My morning just got infinitely better.
“Fletcher? Yeah. He’s a great cook,” Avery says. She looks at him and smiles, so I consider this an open opportunity.
“I’ve only known the guy for a few hours, but he seems pretty legit. I was thinking of catching a movie tonight. Maybe you, Ray and Fletcher can come to?”
“Fletcher is way out of my league. I’m sure he has better things to do than go to the movies with me.”
“Who said he was gonna be your date?” I wink at Rachel. “We have a budding bromance, you know. You should hear us sing sometime.”
“So you mean your school wife has competition?” Rachel asks, playfully.
“I’m pretty sure I was planning on putting the moves on Fletcher,” I say. “I guess I could consider putting the moves on you instead.”
“Ugh.” Rachel makes a face. “That sounds like an evening of pure torture.” She leans toward Avery and covers the side of her mouth with her right hand. “I heard James is the worst kisser ever,” she whispers loudly.
“I don’t know about that,” I say, looking directly at Rachel. “The last girl I kissed didn’t have any complaints.” I don’t know what she’s told Avery, but I don’t want to spill the beans if she hasn’t.
“Like I said, Fletcher probably has other things to do,” Avery says, interrupting our stare down. “He’s never really talked to me, so I’m pretty sure that means he’s not that interested.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll charm him with my boyish good looks,” I say, flashing a smile. We stop at the kitchen window on the way to Rachel’s table. “Hey, Fletch! Avery, Rachel, and I are going to a movie tonight. You in?”
“That depends. Chick flick or action movie?”
“Not sure, but you can hold my hand if you get scared.”
“In that case, I’m in!” He laughs and flips a burger with the same finesse he’s had all morning. I turn to Avery and smirk.
“Oh, there’s just one thing. I’m gonna drive Rachel in The Beast, but there’s only room for us two. Can you take Avery?” Fletcher jerks his head toward me in a panic and drops the second burger.
“Uh, sure. That’s no problem.” The look on his face says he might murder me a little bit.
“Great! Avery can text you her address before her shift is over.”
“I don’t have Fletcher’s number, James.” Avery near-whispers. This is the quietest I’ve seen her since we met.
“Easy fix,” I say, holding my hand out for her phone. “Fletcher, what’s your number?” I punch in the digits and send him a text from Avery’s phone. “There, problem solved. Now, right this way, Mrs. Tennyson, your table is ready.” I leave Avery and Rachel staring at each other and laugh to myself on the way to the same booth we sat at on Wednesday.
“James, what the hell?” Avery whispers loudly when they catch up to me at the booth.
“What?” I ask with my best innocent face.
“I don’t need a pity date!”
“Please, do you really not know that Fletcher likes you?”
“He’s said about fourteen words to me si
nce he started working here! And he graduated last year. What would he want with a high school girl?”
“Avery, trust me. If tonight backfires, I’ll take your next two Saturday shifts.”
“No way are you getting my tips.” She folds her arms across her chest.
“Fine, if tonight backfires, I’ll take your next two Saturday shifts and I’ll give you the tips I earn.” I extend my right hand. She hesitates, then shakes it and walks away.
“You seem mighty certain of yourself, Mr. Tennyson. Are you sure this is a bet you want to make?” Rachel asks.
“The look on his face when she walked in—and the fact that he dropped the burger he was flipping—are all the assurance I need. I got this in the bag.”
“It looks like you’re making the most out of my parents being out of town tonight,” she says with a sly smile. Her weekend plans were the topic of our conversation last night. Her dad has some benefit in Charlotte so they’re getting a hotel for the night. I don’t particularly like sneaking around, but he leaves us little choice.
I grip the edge of the table and lean in. She still smells like sunshine and vanilla. God, I could get intoxicated off her scent. “I figured since you’re staying the night at Avery’s, it was a great night for a date. And this time I can drive you back and kiss you on the porch,” I add in a low voice.
“You already know how our date is gonna end, huh?” she whispers. She keeps looking down at my lips and for a few blissful seconds, I remember our kiss in the parking lot. Why can’t it be tonight already?
“Yup, I consulted my crystal ball. You don’t stand a chance, sweetheart.” Her chocolate brown eyes swallow me up, and I’m struck with the best idea I’ve had in a long time. “Hey, what are you doing when you leave here?”
“Not much, just hanging at Avery’s. I’ll pick her up when her shift is over, and we’ll go back to her house to get ready for the movies.”
