The Art of Pretending
Raquel De Leon
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
© 2020 Raquel De Leon. All rights reserved.
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Epilogue
One
The Texas sun was hanging low in the sky as Ashley drove to work, her tires softly thumping as she crossed over a seam in the road. Newly erected concrete barricades on either side of the three-lane highway were an eyesore, the friendly yellow-green of grass in the median removed in favor of safety. With a sigh, she squinted past her visor as she changed lanes. Traffic would only get worse as afternoon became evening.
She proceeded past numerous blocky buildings before taking her exit, already knowing Melby’s parking lot would be full. It was a Thursday night, and that meant half-priced appetizers and drinks. Unfortunately for Ashley, one of the evening shift servers had called in sick. No one else had been available to cover on short notice.
“Good thing I have no life,” Ashley muttered. She took the turn for the large shopping center adjacent to Melby’s and parked. In contrast to Melby’s, the spaces in front of the assortment of shops were mostly empty.
She grabbed her bag and glanced at her watch, prompting a shake of her head and a hurried exit of the car. Double-checking it was locked, she crossed the street to Melby's on foot and silently hoped the decade-old Chevrolet would continue to be reliable.
A faint chill made her shiver as she rushed to the red brick building’s service entrance. She'd forgotten a sweater since the sun had been shining all day.
A warm draft of air greeted her as she opened the door, and she sighed with relief as it closed behind her. The kitchen was as busy as expected, though Andre spared her a smile from the stove closest to the exit. “Ooh la la, boss lady is here,” he said loud enough to be heard over the cacophony of kitchen noises.
Ashley smiled back and rolled her eyes. Though she was only an assistant manager, she enjoyed the respect Andre showed her. She discarded her bag and pulled a seldom-used apron out. “Mary couldn’t find anyone to cover Deb’s shift.”
“Deb okay?” Andre didn’t slow down as he talked, plating two orders and keeping an eye on some grilling steaks.
“Yeah. Her son has the flu and she didn’t want to leave him with a sitter,” she explained as she began tying the apron around her waist. Ashley really liked Deb, who was a very hard-working single mom.
“Ah, I saw there was a second wave of that on the news. I’ll say a prayer for him.” Andre turned his full attention back to work. “Good luck in the madhouse.”
“Thanks.” Though she didn’t regularly wait tables anymore, she was used to filling in as needed. She put her customer service smile on as she stepped out onto the main floor.
One of the other evening servers spotted her right away. “Thank God,” Chelsea muttered as she strode toward the kitchen, pointing over her shoulder to the section Deb was supposed to be covering.
Ashley nodded in acknowledgment. She paused at one of the cash registers to pick up an order tablet, then made a beeline to one of the occupied tables.
For the next three hours, Ashley barely had time to breathe. As soon as there was a lull, she darted off to the bathroom. Though she normally tried to use the one in the back for employees, the urgent pressure in her bladder required otherwise.
A few minutes later, she was washing her hands as she smiled at her reflection. Her hair wasn’t as messy as she feared it would be. After patting her hands dry with some paper towels, she carefully adjusted her ponytail. Though she normally kept her wavy hair fairly short, she’d been lazy over the last few weeks and hadn’t scheduled a trim.
Just as she was pondering the lone silver hair at her temple (which had come prematurely, she reassured herself), she was distracted when one of the stall doors was flung open. The diminutive woman who stepped out gave Ashley a sheepish smile.
Ashley bit her lip and tried not to stare. Nira was a regular customer, and one that Ashley had had a small crush on since she was still a server. Nira’s silky hair was pulled back in one of its usual clips, only faint makeup on her face. The contrast of her pale skin and black hair had always been striking, and Ashley’s heart skipped a beat when dark blue eyes met her own.
“Ashley.” The faint lines around Nira’s mouth deepened when her smile widened. She walked over to the sink and began washing her hands. “Sorry, the door got away from me.”
“No worries.” Ashley sucked on her teeth, knowing that Nira’s wife was probably waiting. She was always delighted when she and Nira could chat—but Nira had to return to Regan, and Ashley should get back to work. “I hope you have a lovely time this evening.”
Nira’s smile disappeared, then returned wider and tighter.
It wasn’t a real smile. Ashley debated with herself; Chelsea was keeping an eye on her tables for a few minutes, so she could spare some time to ask. She pivoted on her heel to lean against the wall. “Everything okay?” She hadn’t interacted with Nira for several months, and maybe it wasn’t just because of her work schedule.
Nira’s smile wobbled, but she waved dismissively. “I’m fine. Please, don’t let me keep you.”
Ashley worried her lower lip. Though she wouldn’t say they were friends, becoming so had always felt like a matter of time. “I was actually about to take my dinner break. If you want, I can swing by your table for a few minutes. I’d love to catch up—if Regan won’t mind.”
Nira frowned, an adorable crinkle forming between her eyes. “She’s not here. I… I wouldn’t mind the company.”
Withholding her own frown, Ashley nodded and self-consciously pulled at the collar of her white button-up. “Let me just pop over to the kitchen to tell the shift leader.”
“Yes, of course.” Nira smiled, but she seemed preoccupied as she stared past the paper towel dispenser.
Ashley’s stomach twisted as she made her way to the kitchen. Nira and Regan were one of those disgustingly cute couples that had been together forever. Ashley had only been at Melby’s a few months when Regan had proposed—she’d been working a different section, but Mary had gushed over arranging the ring in Nira’s dessert. Despite Ashley’s silly little crush, she’d always hoped the best for Nira and Regan over the years.
She sent Chelsea and Tom a tense smile as she arrived in the kitchen. She explained that she’d be using all of her meal break instead of rushing through it like she normally would, and neither Chelsea nor Tom seemed to mind. She’d already helped through the worst of the dinner rush.
Smoothing a sweating hand over her black slacks, Ashley returned to the main floor to find a glass of water, then Nira. She’d eat something when she got home. Her stomach was too twisted with worry anyway.
***
Nira curled in on herself while she waited for Ashley. Had this been what she’d secretly been hoping for by coming? She felt like she was on the verge of madness when she was alone in her apartment, and she couldn’t face her friends. They didn’t feel like her friends, not lately.
Over her years in attendance of Melby’s, Nira had become familiar with Ashley. They had an easy camaraderie and could chat like old friends. Still, Nira had never pushed to deepen their acquaintance into genuine friendship. It had never seemed like the right time, and part of her had always been aware that Regan was resistant to the idea.
>
Perhaps that had also influenced her spontaneous decision to have dinner at Melby’s. Did her subconscious want to get back at Regan? If so, it hadn’t worked out as intended.
Coming to Melby’s, with all its history, had been more painful than she’d anticipated. She’d hardly touched her food, though the server had refilled her glass twice. “God, what am I doing here?”
She should be at home grading assignments, but she hadn’t been able to concentrate. She’d needed to get out, see some friendly faces.
At least she hadn’t called Regan. Again. Nira clenched her teeth and tightened her arms around herself. The last time had been a disaster.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Ashley was standing next to her table.
Nira blinked up at her, unaware when she’d arrived. “Not at all. Please, join me.” Ashley smiled, the charming one that made her whole face light up, rather than the standard one she used for customers. The sight of it made Nira feel a little more at ease; Ashley had joined her as a friend, not as an employee of Melby’s.
“Thanks.” Ashley sat, putting down a tall glass of water Nira hadn’t noticed.
Amused, Nira stared at it. “Still no ice?”
Ashley’s brown eyes seemed to shine with mirth, a hint of a smile on her lips. She shrugged. “Room temperature goes down easier. Did anyone tell you it’s currently not as hot as hell outside?”
“A fair point, but have you considered that ice just makes everything more refreshing?” Nira lightly gripped her own glass, tracing her fingers through the condensation before taking a sip of her sweet tea. The old debate made her relax further. “So I heard you’re a manager now. That must be why I haven’t really seen you as much.”
Ashley scrunched up her nose, but she was smiling. “An assistant manager, technically. Mary wants to promote me as soon as possible, but she also wants me to accumulate some more experience running things first.”
“That’s fantastic. I’m happy for you.” Nira meant it. She liked Ashley and their discussions, even if Regan hadn’t always liked either.
Frustrated that Regan continued to pollute her thoughts, she slumped back in her chair.
“Hey,” Ashley said with a careful smile. “I know we’re not exactly friends, but I’ve always enjoyed our chats. Whatever it is, whatever you need to talk about, I’m here.”
It was an outrageous idea, pouring her heart out to Ashley out of the blue. But most of her friends were also Regan’s friends, and had been Regan’s friends first. She didn’t want to talk to them. “So,” Nira began with a forced smile. “Regan left me for another woman.”
Ashley jolted forward, her eyes wide. “What?”
Her genuine shock made sharing the rest easier. None of Nira’s friends had seemed surprised. They’d probably known long before Nira, perhaps all the way back to when Regan had been insisting that they’d just grown apart. She took in a breath and held it. “Yes, my thoughts exactly.”
She didn’t intend to go into the gritty details, but Ashley had always been so easy to talk to. She and Regan had separated at first, just on a trial basis. Nira had thought she’d been doing the right thing by giving Regan space. Even after the divorce, she hadn’t been sure their relationship was truly over.
It hadn’t been until the disastrous phone call a few weeks prior that Nira realized Regan had been cheating for months before they’d even separated. A visit to one of their mutual friends had served as confirmation. Nira was a naïve, ignorant schmuck and Regan was into much younger, blonder women now.
“Hey, whatever it is you’re thinking, stop. Regan is a damn idiot. I’ve seen a lot of people hit their midlife crisis and pull the same thing, but damn. Please tell me the other woman wasn’t her assistant?” Ashley was leaning over the table, her sleeves rolled up and her arms crossed.
Nira blindly stared at the softly tanned skin before responding. “No. As far as I know, they met at a coffee shop or something.”
“A cheat cute,” Ashley deadpanned. “Great, now that story premise is ruined for me forever.”
Despite the situation, Nira found herself laughing. “You like to read romances?”
Ashley scratched her face and looked away, a faint tinge of pink on her cheeks. “I like to read a bit of everything, but, yeah. Who doesn’t like a little cheesiness now and then?”
Regan didn’t. Regan could be romantic when she wanted to, but she’d never had the patience for romcoms in any form. Of course, Nira couldn’t remember the last time Regan had done anything sweet, just because. At least she knew why. And why her own small gestures had been dismissed.
She cleared her throat and focused back on Ashley. “You’d be surprised.” She paused, fidgeting with the edge of the table. “Thanks for listening to me. I just… I’m still so hurt and embarrassed and so many other things. Everyone knew before I did.”
“Isn’t that just the way?” Ashley muttered. “I hate that. If any of my friends knew something like that, I’d want them to tell me.”
Nira leaned forward, suddenly full of energy. “Right?! Instead, here I am, moping around for months thinking maybe once she figures herself out, we could reconnect.”
Ashley slapped the table. “Exactly! I couldn’t stand to be a bystander to that.”
Nira chuckled, once again leaning back. “Thanks. I wish my friends were more like you. Ugh, listen to me. You’re wasting your break just to hear me whine.” A thought occurred to her, and her eyes widened. “Hey! You said this is your dinner break and you haven’t eaten a thing.”
Ashley grinned, and Nira noticed the small beauty mark on the left side of her nose. She’d seen the mole innumerable times, but she hadn’t really paid attention to it, or how it seemed to enhance Ashley’s smile.
“I’m not hungry, I promise. I’m not working a full shift tonight; I’m just covering for someone.” Ashley raised her wrist to glance at her watch. “Although, I should get back to it soon.” She put her arm down and met Nira’s gaze. “Thanks for talking to me.” She stood but didn’t walk away, and Nira felt despondent at her imminent departure. “I’m primarily here for the day shift on weekdays, when I know you’re working, but I’ll be covering for Deb until Saturday.”
Nira tilted her head up, unsure where the conversation was going. She'd just blathered on for twenty minutes, give or take.
Ashley curled one side of her mouth up. “Maybe you could stop in for lunch Saturday, if you’re not busy. You could hang out with me a little bit. No pressure, though.”
The sudden loneliness she’d experienced began to fade, a flicker of hope flaring to life instead. “Yeah? I just might take you up on that.” She could use a friend, especially one that wasn’t tainted by Regan’s affair. God, she was tired of thinking of Regan, their friends, and everything involving the divorce.
Ashley angled her head. “Great. I hope to see you Saturday.” With a last smile, she walked away.
Nira sighed as she watched Ashley go. She was alone, again. She caught the eye of her waiter and gestured for the check. The night had gone better than she thought it would—better than she thought it could have, and she’d carry the small win for as long as possible. It was time to head home. Some eight-year-olds were expecting to receive graded assignments the following day.
***
When Saturday came and passed without a visit from Nira, Ashley tried not to take it personally. Though Nira had no reason to, perhaps she’d felt embarrassed for sharing such intimate details of her life.
Ashley was still astonished that Nira and Regan had split. As far as she knew, they’d been together for a decade and a half. That was a long time to throw away. Then again, that had been about the same amount of time she’d had with her family before they’d thrown her away.
“I’m not bitter,” Ashley said bitterly as she violently wiped down an empty table.
“Is this a bad time?”
Ashley swiveled her head around.
Nira, looking beautiful in a simple t
aupe dress belted at the waist, was waiting with her hands clasped in front of her hips. Ashley tried not to focus on them, or the faint tan line on Nira’s left ring finger.
“No,” Ashley looked down at the rag she’d been cleaning with, juggling it from one hand to the other before shoving it in her back pocket. “Not at all.” She cleared her throat and pursed her lips. When she finally managed to look Nira in the eye, she smiled. “It’s a Monday. I wasn’t expecting you.”
Nira shifted her weight. “Martin Luther King Day, so I was just doing paperwork. I finished early and decided to see if I could still take you up on that offer for lunch.”
Delightfully surprised, Ashley found herself nodding like an idiot. “Yeah, of course. We’re not that busy. Let me just tell Mary I’m taking my break. What do you want to eat? One of your usual choices? I can go put the order in.”
The Art of Pretending Page 1
