“You realize basically everyone is having a first date here, right?” she whispers. “This is like Atlanta’s first date factory.”
“I know! My parents actually had their first date here. Not here. The Buckhead one.”
Maya’s eyes flare wide, for just a split second.
And I’m an idiot. Wow. I’m an absolute, next-level, record-shattering idiot. Who does this? Who brings a girl to his parents’ first date spot? And then tells her it was his parents’ first date spot?
“Right.” Maya bites her lip.
Lip biting. The universal gesture of freaked-out people who are trying not to hurt the feelings of the person who freaked them out. I mean, of course she’s freaked out. How could she not be? I basically just proposed marriage and offered to father her children. I stare at my hands, pulse quickening. I might as well—
“Can I ask you a question?” Maya asks.
“Um. Sure. Yes!”
She hesitates. “I was just wondering . . . you never really talk about your dad.”
“My dad?” I look up, startled.
“Or not. We don’t have to talk about it,” she says quickly.
“No, it’s fine.” My heartbeat slows back to normal. I meet her eyes, and she just looks curious.
Not freaked out.
I can’t believe she’s not freaked out.
“I don’t mind talking about him,” I say finally. “I just don’t talk to him that much. My parents divorced when I was six. You probably don’t remember my dad—he used to work a lot, even before he left. He lives in the Netherlands now. Sophie and I go out there for a few weeks every summer.”
“I didn’t know that. Are you seeing him this summer?”
I nod. “End of July. He’s not coming to the bat mitzvah. He says he’s saving vacation days so he can take off work when we’re out there.”
Maya looks stricken. “Wait, aren’t bat mitzvahs really important? He’s just not coming?”
“He didn’t come to mine either. He didn’t have a bar mitzvah as a kid, so I don’t think he sees it as a big deal.” I shrug. “He’s, like, super involved when we’re out there, though. He borrows bikes for us, and we go into town every day and eat at pancake restaurants. He knows everyone. He’s kind of like Sophie—he’ll talk to anyone. Mom says she always thought he’d run for office one day. She says he’s too charming. He’s like a politician without the politics.”
Maya laughs. “I can’t figure out if that’s a compliment.”
I smile a little. “I doubt she means it as one.”
Funny how I can know that, and still wish she’d say it about me. Too charming.
Maya’s smile falters. “But that must be hard, with him not coming home much.”
“I mean. Utrecht is his home.”
“God, this whole time, you’ve been listening to me whine about my dad moving five minutes up the road—”
“What? Maya, no—this stuff with your parents . . . it’s not trivial. You’re not whining.”
“I feel bad that I didn’t realize, though.” Her eyes look almost liquid in the candlelight. “Do you miss him?”
“Not really?” I blush. “That sounds awful. Sorry. No, I do . . . kind of. But it’s been over a decade, and I’m really used to it. I still see him every year, and we do Skype sometimes. I mean, I guess I feel weird about it every now and then, but I don’t miss him like I miss my grandpa.”
Maya reaches out, almost like she’s going to touch my hand—but suddenly, the waitress appears. “What can I get you two?”
I look at Maya. “The seven-layer, right?”
Maya turns to the waitress. “Can we get two slices of the seven-layer cake? And also, if you don’t mind bringing the check . . .”
“No prob.” Our waitress smiles like it’s nothing, but I have to admit, I’m thrown. We just ordered, and Maya’s asking for the check? She already has an exit strategy?
The waitress leaves, and Maya looks at me. “Sorry.” Her dimple flickers. “It’s just, they can be so slow here. Sara and I always ask for the check right away. And it’s more crowded than I expected for a Tuesday.” She eyes a hipster-looking man and woman seated at a high-top table near the wall.
“First daters.” I smile. “What do we think they’re talking about?”
Maya watches them for a moment, and then cups her chin in her hand again. “Okay, he’s like, seen any good movies lately? And she’s like, no.”
“Just—no?” I ask. “Nothing?”
“Nope. Look, she’s no bullshit. Look at how she’s sipping her drink.”
“Okay.” I nod slowly. “But now he’s leaning forward. He’s totally like, well, bucko—”
Maya laughs. “Bucko?”
I grin. “I don’t know.”
“Do you usually call girls you date Bucko?”
“I . . . don’t usually date. So.”
“Ah,” says Maya.
“I’m really cool, I know.”
“What? No, you are,” Maya says, looking up at me earnestly. “Not everyone has to date in high school. I haven’t.”
“You haven’t?”
“Well, I’m not—” She stops herself, mouth snapping shut. But then, a moment later, she shrugs. “I guess I don’t really see the point of it.”
“The point of dating?”
Maya nods. “It’s so messy and unpredictable in high school. I can’t tell you how many times my friend group at school has totally fractured because of a breakup. And there’s always a breakup.”
“I don’t know. My friend Felipe has been with his boyfriend almost a year, and they seem pretty happy.”
“I mean, there are exceptions. But let’s be realistic. Even adults can’t keep their shit together half the time. What are the odds that some random high school couple will? And that’s assuming it’s even a mutual thing to begin with! I’ve seen friendships totally ruined just because one person has a crush on the other.”
“Oh.” My stomach drops. “Right.”
“No, seriously. You know Kevin, right? I’ve known him since middle school. We sat by each other in history class, and we even did a huge project together. He’s a really good guy—”
“Even though he’s a Republican?”
“Right?” Maya laughs. “Yeah, he’s a legit non-racist conservative. He just likes to talk about economic policy and stuff. It was cool hanging out with him. He’s really into video games, so he’d use all these gaming metaphors to explain stuff.”
“Well, of course! He knows you’re a gaming expert—”
“Excuse me.” She grins. “I’m actually amazing on assist mode.”
“Touché.”
“Anyway, the point is, we were actually becoming friends. But then he started liking Sara, and she didn’t like him back, and it’s been so painfully awkward for all of us. Sara kept darting into empty classrooms to avoid him for the rest of the school year.”