The second I exit my car, the balmy late summer heat and humidity envelopes me, causing a fine sheen of sweat to dot my hairline. It’s beyond gross…but that’s the price you pay to live below the Mason Dixon line.
By the time I make it to the restaurant, I can feel little beads of sweat sliding down my spine. I pause outside of the entrance and fish my compact out of my purse. I use the powder puff to dab at my nose before swiping another coat of gloss over my lips.
I step into the dimly lit space; the aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling herbs and spices fill my nostrils. On cue, my mouth waters. “Hello and welcome to South Bay Kitchen,” the hostess greets me. “How many?”
Rising to my tippy toes, I glance over her shoulder into the dining area. “I’m actually meeting someone. We should have had reservations under the name Kevin.”
She offers me a sympathetic smile before bending her head to scan her reservation book. “Yes, and it looks like he’s already seated.” She steps out from behind the podium. “If you’ll follow me.”
Zigzagging through the maze of tables, she leads me to a small two-top toward the back near the bar. “Here you go.”
Kevin stands upon our arrival and…holy ba-jeezus, this man looks nothing like his picture online. I was expecting a good-looking man with tanned skin, blond hair, and startling blue eyes, who stands over six-foot-two.
What I’m met with is a balding man old enough to be my father with leathery skin. The only thing that matches is his eye color. Oh, my god—have I been catfished? Is that what is happening right now?
“Uh. Hello. I’m Natalie.”
He flicks the tip of his tongue over his front teeth. “Phil.” He shakes my hand and I cringe at the clamminess of his skin. “And, toots, the pleasure’s all mine.”
It’s all I can do to suppress my gag. “You’re not Kevin?”
He chortles. “Kevin couldn’t make it tonight, so I came in his place. It’s almost the same thing—the kid’s a real chip off the old block.”
I gasp and my stomach turns. “So…you’re his…dad?”
“In the flesh.” He grins, flashing me his dentures.
Oh, hell no. Thank God I never had time to sit. Without another word, I turn and walk right back out the way I came. What a sleaze. And who in God’s name sends their dad as a stand-in on a first date?
Gross!
I drive around for a good half hour to pass the time. I know if I come this early, Nate will pester me with questions about Kevin-Phil. And, I’m in no mood to deal with that.
6
Alden
Goals. I’ve always been a fan of goals. Especially achieving them. Ever since I was a kid, there’s always been something so fucking satisfying about crossing shit off my list.
In fifth grade, I wanted a dog. So, I put together a presentation on a tri-fold poster board and presented it to my parents after dinner one night. The left side highlighted all of the pros of pet ownership, while the right listed the cons. And if you think I held back or skimped on listing the downsides, think again. I wanted my parents to know I meant business.
The middle outlined all of the things I would be willing to do to achieve my goal of pet ownership—like getting up early to walk him, using my chore allowance for pet food instead of the arcade or dollar store, cleaning up after any accidents…shit like that.
Needless to say, I got the damn dog. Named him Oscar—God rest his little doggy soul.
That same tenacity and dedication followed me all throughout grade school and into high school. Don’t misunderstand me, I still went out and partied with the best of them, and I definitely had my fair share of dates and hookups, but I also knew when to rein it in and dial it down.
Served me well, too. Got me into my dream school on a full ride, where I studied business. Extra perk, my childhood best friend, Nate, got in there, too, and he’s every bit as driven as me. Since then we may have lost touch—thanks to him staying local and heading off to the police academy, where he learned to be a professional badass, and me shipping off to Europe to study under the bests in the culinary world—but that doesn’t mean I don’t have his back still, and Lord knows he has mine.
We pretty much lived at each other’s houses in high school, and we roomed together in college. We may not talk every day like we did growing up, but we still text sporadically and comment on social media shit. And I know when we eventually hit the bar, we’ll pick back up right where we left off, like we always do, distance and time be dammed.
My plan was always for me to end up back here in Bay Ridge, Alabama. Sounds insane, I’m sure. But like I said, goals. And I’m so damn close to achieving the grandest of them all that I can hardly stand it. Even though my parents have long since retired to Florida, all of my best childhood memories are here. Not to mention Nate and his family too—but I try not to think of his family too much. I love them, but thinking about them always leads me to think of his sister…his once annoying but blossomed overnight and now hot as fuck little sister. Thank God for social media for allowing me to creep.
Sure, there were some bumps and detours along the way, but fate is smiling down on me, and I’m fucking here and ready to take back what should have never left my family in the first place—Bayside Café.
7
Natalie
In the week following my date with Kevin, every time my phone rang, I’ve In the week following my non-date with Kevin-Phil, I’ve decided to call it quits. I’m hanging up my dating hat—and by that, I mean deleting my online profile. I waffled on the decision, but a girl can only stand so many bad dates.
But you know what? I’m okay with that. Truly, I am. Any of the potential suitors I might have met on there would have been nothing more than a stand-in for the only man who’s ever made my heart race.
For a while, I convinced myself that I didn’t want passion and belly flutters—I fooled myself into believing lukewarm was the way to go…but I know that isn’t true.
Deep down, if it isn’t red hot and consuming, I’m not interested. Though, I’m pretty sure that kind of love only comes around once in a lifetime, and if that’s the case, that’s just fine too, because I’ll always have my Tater Tot. Which is fine by me, because she’s all the best parts of him anyway.
“Mama!” I hear, followed by the sound of Tatum’s little feet stomping down the hall toward my room. “Mama! Wake up! It’s Us Day!” Tatum barrels into my room and up onto my bed where she burrows down under the covers next to me. “You up?”
“I’m up! Are you ready for our big day?” I ask, already knowing her answer.
On the third Saturday of every month, I’m off. Guaranteed, no matter what—and on that day, Tatum and I have a Us Day where we spend the entire day together, uninterrupted, doing whatever we damn well please.
“Wes have waffles?”
“We can absolutely have waffles. And maybe then we can go to the park.”
Tatum nods her head furiously. “And to lunch and for ice cream and for shopping and for—”