Chapter 32
NOTHING SAYS AUTHENTIC LIKE CHEESY Italian music playing out of crackling ancient speakers and red wine served in Styrofoam cups. Fortunately, I don’t think any of us here in Wyatt would recognize authentic Italian food if it hit us in the face.
Two of the volunteer servers have already dumped spaghetti sauce down their white button-downs, which Monsignor insisted we all wear, as if that’s going to make people think we know what we’re doing.
“I’ve got four adults, one with no meatballs, and two kids,” I say to Mrs. Dashnaw through the kitchen window as I dab the sweat off my brow. I keep my attention focused on the kitchen as I notice Savannah’s red ponytail in my peripheral vision as she takes orders at a nearby table with Rory.
“Make that three kids, Mrs. Dashnaw!” My serving partner, aka Ryan, calls back into the kitchen as he leans on the wall beside me with a bottle of red wine in hand. “The small one rethought her hunger strike,” he says to me.
“This serving thing is no joke, and those plates are heavy.”
“You’ve gotta hit the gym, Green,” he says, shaking his head.
“Why does everyone keep saying that!” I ask. “And also, why am I even serving the food? You’re the one with all the experience.”
“Because I serve a perfect pour.” He straightens up and holds the bottle out like a fancy wine man, and I roll my eyes at him.
Mrs. Dashnaw appears back in her window with a tray of three plates. “I’ll be right back with the rest,” she says.
“Hey, Stevie, should we be like… limiting these people?” Ryan asks while we wait. “Old Big Beard over there just put away his fourth glass.”
I open my mouth in disbelief.
“Ryan. You’re only supposed to pour one glass with each meal!”
“Oh, I have not been doing that,” he says as my mom approaches us through the window. “Don’t tell any—Hi! Mrs. Green. How are you? The meatballs are a huge hit out here.”
“As is the wine,” I say. Ryan jabs me in the side, out of sight.
“I know!” She leans toward me. “We’ve raised over six thousand dollars for the mission trip, which means they’re going to be able to send even more volunteers over this year, and Monsignor just told me it’s the best spaghetti and meatballs he’s had since he was assigned here forty years ago.
I think he’s going to ask me to take over the Lenten fish fry, too! ”
“That’s awesome, Mom. You deserve it.”
“Thanks, sweetie. Just one more hour. We can do this. We can do this.” She sounds more frantic than usual. Maybe a little stressed, even though it obviously could not be going any better. Clearly this all means a lot to her and now that the fish fry is in sight, the stakes just went up.
She turns to get back to work but then doubles back like she remembered something. “I was thinking after we get cleaned up here, we should do something to celebrate. Ice cream, a movie, anything you want. You deserve a little fun after this.”
“Actually, um… everyone’s hanging out at Jake’s after this. Do you mind if I go?” I ask.
She pauses. “I was really hoping that tonight, it could just be you and me. There was that new thriller out you wanted to see…,” she says, but this time, underneath the sad tone in her voice, I can feel her claws digging in.
I’ve been trying so hard not to hurt her, but this isn’t fair.
I’ve been here with her all day and most of the last four before that, helping get ready for this.
I’m seeing Nora tonight. I don’t care what it takes.
“Can’t we do it tomorrow? I kinda already told Ryan I’d go,” I lie, glancing over at him, and he smiles and nods along without even the slightest hesitation.
She lets out a sigh, thinking.
“All right. But not too late and make sure you say hello to Monsignor before you leave tonight, okay?” Even though she’s agreed, her face is closed off now.
Thankfully I’m saved from a further guilt trip by a loud clatter somewhere in the back and Mom grits her teeth.
“I’ve got to get back in there before Mrs. Tyler overcooks another ten pounds of noodles,” she says before disappearing.
Phew.
“You’re going to Jake’s party with Savannah and Rory?” Ryan whispers, shocked.
“No. I haven’t even talked to them since Truck Night. I’m going to Nora’s,” I whisper back, “but it’s the perfect cover.”
Mrs. Dashnaw appears with the second tray and before Ryan can take off, I snatch the wine bottle out of his hands.
“You’re on spaghetti now,” I say, leaving him in the dust.
As Ryan sets a plate down in front of each person, I walk around and pour wine for each adult with a green wristband.
“Don’t be shy there, honey,” a lady older than spaghetti itself says to me. She uses her crooked finger to tip the bottom of the bottle up until a little wine spills over the brim of her cup. Ryan sends me a smirk from across the table.
What is with these people?
We work our way through the rest of our tables like a well-oiled machine, getting food to the last of our assigned section faster than any other duo. Finally, we make our way to a couple of chairs lined up against the wall in the corner and plop down to watch the rest of them finish up.
“Y’all Catholics can drink,” he says.
“Well, they start us very young. We get our First Communion gulp in second grade, and it’s all downhill from there,” I joke.
We watch the tables slowly empty out as people finish eating, almost every single plate licked clean, which is not something I could say for Mrs. O’Doyle’s spaghetti dinners. I’d say my mom has this on lock.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” Ryan drops his voice so low that I can barely even hear it. I nod. “Your mom seems like… real cool. Like she doesn’t seem like the type of person who would have a problem with you and… you know. Have you thought about just telling her?”
I let out a big sigh, thinking about her hurt face earlier.
“I have. At first I thought she’d like… for sure just flat-out stop talking to me because of all this and the role she wants in the Church…
but the more I’ve thought about it, the more I wonder if that’s true.
The bigger problem is my dad, though. I couldn’t ask her to keep that from him, and he’s real conservative now, like even more than I remember from before.
You saw what he was like about just leaving town. ”
“I guess I hadn’t really thought about that. Sorry, Stevie. I probably shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s not really any of my business,” he says.
“It’s okay. I’ll figure it out. Luckily, I don’t have to do it right now,” I reply.
So far this keeping it a secret thing is working out all right.
Although… saying goodbye to Nora after our campfire seemed especially hard, and lying to my mom sucks more each time. So maybe… almost working out all right.
“Well, I think our job here is done. I guess I should head out, but have a good time tonight. Say hi to Nora for me.”
We say our goodbyes and after he leaves, I find Monsignor for a quick hello before I head into the kitchen to congratulate my mom.
I have to weave through about twenty people packed into the tight space, but finally I find her sitting up on the counter in the back corner, munching on a piece of bread.
“Mom.” I slide up onto the counter beside her and hold my fist out. “You killed it.”
“Thanks, baby,” she says, sounding completely exhausted. “And thank you for all your help.” She leans over and gives me a kiss on the forehead, but it feels a little stiff.
“It was fun, actually, trying the different recipes, serving people here. Mostly just getting to do it all with you, though,” I reply honestly. Hopefully it also softens the blow of me not wanting to hang with her tonight.
“For me, too.” She smiles and something finally loosens. “Maybe we can do it again next summer.”
“I’d like that.” I look at all the hustle and bustle around us. Basically everyone from our church is here either working or eating. All except one. “I’m sorry Dad didn’t come.”
“Oh no.” She shakes her head. “I knew he wasn’t going to be able to make it. Your dad’s working hard too… for all of us,” she tells me. But it still doesn’t add up. The Dad I remember would’ve managed to at least stop by to say hi, offer her some support on her big day.
She flicks her head toward the door, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Go on. Get out of here.”
“Are you sure? I could stick around and help clean up,” I offer, even though my mind is already racing with thoughts of Nora.
She shakes her head. “I’ve got plenty of help. Grab a to-go container on your way out if you want. But be home by eleven.”
“Midnight?” I try.
She narrows her eyes at me. “Eleven thirty.”
“Deal.” I grab my to-go container off the counter and head out the door. The wind blows at my ponytail as I head toward the parking lot, storm clouds looming in the distance.
I couldn’t care less what the weather does tonight, though, because, finally after these four long days… I get to see her again. An entire evening, just me and—
“Stevie! Hey, Stevie!” Rory and Savannah both shout from behind me. I take a deep breath as I stop and turn around to face them.
“Look, we swiped some!” Rory opens her giant purse to reveal three bottles of wine. “Come on. You want to ride with us to Jake’s?”
I shake my head. “No thanks.”
“Okay, well, when will you be there?” Rory asks, as if I haven’t been ghosting them for the last few weeks.
“I’m not going to the party,” I tell them.
“Stevie, come on. Drink with us. We haven’t seen you in literally weeks and we’re about to leave for college. You’re not turning back into old Stevie again, are you?” Savannah asks, making me clench my teeth.
“What Stevie is that? The one that has a giant crush on Ryan?” I ask.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
My heart is pounding in my throat, but I have to say this to them. Stand up for myself for once.
“You guys… you fucking lied to me. I never liked him like that.”
“Oh my God. You remember?!” Rory asks, stepping toward me with a smile.
No, but that’s all the confirmation I needed that this whole thing was them toying with me.
“I’ve discovered enough to know that that wasn’t even remotely true. And people really got hurt because of it.”
Savannah just laughs like this is all so trivial to her. “People? Dramatic much? You don’t have to be a bitch about it. We just wanted you to have a little fun for once. Jesus. I remember when you used to know how to take a joke.”
“You know what I remember? I remember when you guys used to treat me like a real friend, like you actually cared about me. I remember when you would’ve stood up for what’s right when some drunk idiot is being a racist asshole.”
“Oh my God. You’re still on this?” Rory shouts. “You don’t have to take everything so fucking serious, Stevie. We were all just having fun.”
“Nothing about that situation was fun for me or for Ryan! You guys… you don’t get it. You don’t get what it’s like to live in this town and not be able to just blend in with everyone else. To have some jerk you don’t even know point it out in that way. It was embarrassing, humiliating.”
Savannah puts on a baby voice. “Oh, poor me. I’m Stevie and I’m so different and everyone is out to get me.
” She takes a step forward and drops back to her normal register.
“Maybe we just want to enjoy our summer without having to worry about what’s going to offend you.
Like I’m sorry I have a boyfriend now and I’m sorry we’ve made other friends.
What? Do you want me to apologize for growing up or something? ”
I take a deep breath, and as hard as it is right now, I force myself to keep my voice calm. Collected.
“It’s not about you growing up. It’s about who you grew up into, and whether I remember it or not, I don’t think you guys have been my friends for a long time,” I say, pulling open the door to my Volvo. “Have fun at Jake’s,” I add before stepping inside.
I can see them out of my peripheral vision, standing in my side mirror, but I don’t look back. This is for the best. I should’ve done it a long time ago.