If my family wasn't here, I'd go over and ask him out, I thought to myself. And then shook my head. Even if my family wasn't here and I'd been alone, I still wouldn't have had the guts to go over and talk to him. Besides, what would I say? Thanks again for saving me, maybe you could catch me again sometime? It sounded horrible even inside my head.
The stranger across the restaurant set his menu down and then brought his attention to his cell phone. I couldn't stop watching him. He stuck out like a sore thumb in the family style restaurant. He was well-dressed and his mannerisms were smooth and masculine. It didn't feel like he belonged in a little town like ours, though I certainly wasn't complaining.
My attention was forced back to my table when the waitress walked up and placed a plate of food in front of me. The warm smell of seasoned chicken wafted up into my face like a transparent fog. My mouth watered in anticipation, temporarily distracting me from the beautiful stranger at the nearby table.
In school with Caroline, we only ever cooked different types of pasta for the most part. It was cheap and hard to mess up, and neither of us were particularly good cooks. I had become especially fond of Japanese noodles with tofu, because it was cheaper than chicken. As we inched closer to graduation the effort allotted to grocery shopping took more and more of a hit. Finally, we had stopped shopping altogether and our goal became simply to finish everything in the pantry. I was more than eager for a nice meal that wasn't cobbled together spaghetti noodles and peanut butter.
“This looks so good. Thanks for dinner, Dad,” I said, flashing my dad a smile. I couldn't wait to devour a herb encrusted chicken breast.
“You're very welcome,” Dad replied. He grinned and took a bite of his own meal.“How's yours, Tommy?”
“It's great,” Tommy replied absently. He stared at his phone and pushed out his chair, already heading for the door. “I gotta go, but I”ll be right back.”
“Tommy where are you going?” my mother called after him.
“Your food just came, buddy. Come on, sit down,” my father said.
“I’ll be right back,” he shouted back. “Promise!” He was off before another objection could be spoken.
I watched him and then looked to my mother. “What was that about?” I asked.
“Just some phone game,” she said. She shook her head like I had asked a rhetorical question. “He's been doing that all week. I've given up trying to stop him.”
Caroline laughed. “He’s a funny kid.”
“Yes, he is,” my mother replied with emphasis. “Never a dull day with that one.”
“I bet you forgot what it was like having a little minion always chasing you around,” my father said, taking another bite of food.
“No, I actually missed him a lot,” I said. “And honestly he has matured a lot since I left, it’s kind of crazy.”
“He missed you, too,” Mom assured me. “I wasn't the one who insisted on sending you all those cookie care packages.”
“And lord knows we appreciated them,” I told her. “I'm pretty sure that Caroline and I ate nothing but cookies for several meals.”
“If I had known that, I would have sent you food!” my mother replied, looking shocked.
“It's what you do in college,” my dad assured her. “Builds character.”
“Or diabetes,” Caroline whispered to me and I had to hold in a laugh.
Tommy returned to the table and slumped into his seat as only a pre-teenage boy could. He stared at his phone for another minute before putting it back in his pocket.
“Oh, welcome back,” I said. “Thanks for joining us.”
He looked at me and made a face that looked like it should have been accompanied with a stuck out tongue.
“The waitress is coming back to get your food,” my father told him. “We told her you didn’t want it.”
Tommy rolled his eyes, knowing that our father was just messing with him as he dug into his cheeseburger and fries. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Did you go outside?” I asked, taking a bite of my chicken. I looked past him to the windows and saw the twilight softly creeping in over the sidewalk, almost expecting to see some sort of tempting attraction instead of the city street.
“Yeah,” he replied with a shrug, as if my question was a mere waste of time.
“And?” I prompted.
“And what?” He took another bite of his burger and shrugged.
“Nothing I guess,” I told him. My mother just shrugged at me. Apparently this was usual for him.
“Have you sent in your application to ZephTech yet?” Caroline asked between bites of her fettuccine alfredo. I looked up at my father and wasn’t surprised to find him looking over his glasses at me, waiting for me to answer.
“Almost,” I told her. “I’m almost done. This application is more work than applying to grad school.”
“What all do you have left?” Caroline asked. “I think last I heard you were working on some essay.”
“I finished the written questionnaire,” I said, stressing the term so as not to sound like a high school senior. “I have all the testing done and I met with their recruitment person for an interview before school ended, so that's done. Now, I just have to submit my resume with a cover letter.”
“Submit or finish?” my father asked bluntly.
“Submit,” I informed him, feeling a little defensive.
“That’s intense,” Caroline said. “Makes my applications seem easier.”
“Well, it’s a pretty competitive internship,” I said, speaking more to the table than to Caroline alone. “Like, incredibly competitive. They only accept ten applicants out of the hundreds that they get.”
“I know you'll get it,” Caroline said and nudged me with her elbow. “I’d hire you in a heartbeat.”
“Actually, I was hoping you could read over my cover letter before I submit it, if you don’t mind,” I said. Caroline did have her degree in English after all.
“Oh, absolutely,” said Caroline. “Email it to me.”
“Thanks, Caroline.” I smiled at her. “I appreciate it. I really want this.”
“What happens if you get the job?” Caroline asked. She pushed her empty plate away from her.
“If I do get accepted to their internship program, I’ll work with the other nine interns designing software platforms for new apps. And we’re all evaluated the whole time. Then, after six-weeks, they make one offer for a full-time position.” I couldn’t help but glance at my father who ate as he watched me speak. His face remained motionless.
“I know you've told me this before, but what's so special about ZephTech? Isn't there a company out there that would be easier to work for?” Mom asked.
“ZephTech designs games,” I explained. “They've been my dream job since I was ten. They are the best of the best. Just getting the internship gets you in the door for almost every other job out there.”
I looked at my plate of chicken and realized that I hadn’t eaten much since the conversation began. Consciously, I forked a sizable bite to my mouth, hoping that someone else would take over the talking.