Chapter 2 Mitchell
MITCHELL
“So,” the man across the table said to me, “you work at a call center, huh?”
His name was Davis and he was, according to his dating profile, twenty-six and worked at the local Mercedes-Benz dealership.
It was our first date after being told we were a possible match, and so far, the only thing I was getting from his wannabe surfer-boy looks was that he thought he was hot and that I was a loser.
“I do,” I replied, hastening to add, “but I’m looking at applying to college to get a nursing degree.”
“Medicine, huh?” He looked mildly impressed and for a brief moment, I thought I’d been judging him too harshly.
Only a single moment, mind, as what he said next laid that notion to rest. “If you’re choosing nursing because of the MCAT and long study hours and all that shit, there’s always those schools in the Caribbean.
You can enjoy low tuition, the sand and the sea, all that sunshine, and not worry about flunking out because your grades suck.
They’ll let you retake classes without kicking you out. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”
My jaw dropped. He’d just pretty much suggested I go to a diploma mill somewhere and tarred an entire region’s education system as being merely nothing but fun in the sun, places to go with minor academic requirements for coveted specialist degrees.
“Um, no. I chose nursing because that’s where I feel my calling lies.”
He snorted, then flashed a smile as the waitress came over to take our order.
He ordered a triple cheeseburger with fries, coleslaw, an extra side of onion rings and a Coke.
She then turned to look at me expectantly and I flashed her a smile back, grateful that we’d agreed to meet at a place I was familiar with so I didn’t have to struggle with the menu.
“Hi, Cindy,” I greeted her.
“It’s nice to see you, too, Mitch. We were awful sorry to hear about your grandmother.”
I inwardly flinched. I wasn’t sorry at all, and that probably made me a terrible person.
If I was, then she’d been an even worse one.
Sure, she’d raised me, but the smiling, kind-to-strangers act she put on for everyone else had been just that—an act worthy of winning an Oscar.
At home, she’d been mean-spirited and verbally abusive.
Still, this was where we used to come every Sunday afternoon before I’d take her grocery shopping, and all they knew us as were the kind old granny and her devoted grandson.
“Thank you,” I replied softly.” I cleared my throat. “Um, I’ll have my usual.”
“Double bacon cheeseburger with Cajun curly fries and a Dr. Pepper vanilla ice cream float coming right up!” she said, giving me a wink before turning away to go give the cook our order.
Davis was pursing his lips. “You know, they have a bacon burger salad on the menu.”
I glared at him. “Well, if you want to change your order, you’d best hurry over to the counter and let her know before Fred makes it.”
“Eat here all the time, huh?”
“Every week, except for the last two,” I admitted. “Missed those due to my grandmother dying and having to sort out her funeral and all that.”
“Explains a lot,” he mumbled.
I’d spent enough time hearing remarks like that to know exactly what he was getting at.
From the time I was eleven and she decided that my ‘puppy fat’ was not going to be outgrown, she’d forced me onto a diet of weight loss shakes and salads.
We came to a truce when I got my license at sixteen.
Sundays, I could eat what I wanted here at this diner, as long as I drove her to do her shopping and anywhere else she wanted to go during the week when I was not at school.
I smiled politely at him, knowing he was probably going to tell all of his friends what a shitty date I was over what I was about to do next.
I had no fucks to give about it, though.
Rosalind McAuthur was dead and I was free.
I did not intend to reshackle myself with any new relationships that didn’t take me as I came, without reservation.
“Excuse me, I need to go to the counter to change my order.”
He looked gratified. “You'll feel better for it.”
Oh, he had no idea. I already felt great about it. I pulled my fluffy-assed frame up out of the booth and walked over to the counter.
“Hey, Cindy,” I said, calling her to get her attention from where she was adding some more slices of pie from the fridge to the covered dome on the counter.
“Hey, sugar,” she replied, her smile questioning. “Was there anything else?”
“Could I please get mine as a to-go?”
Her eyes slid over to where Davis was sitting oblivious, texting away to someone on his phone. No doubt telling them how his date was a lazy lard ass and asking them to ring him with a fake emergency in a few minutes.
“Just yours?” Cindy asked, turning knowing eyes towards me.
“Yeah.” I grimaced. “I stupidly tried an online dating service, and this is who they matched me with.”
“A bit of a jerk, huh?” She lowered her voice.
“His voice carries, as loud as he talks. I heard nearly every word he said.” She reached her hand out and gave mine a motherly pat.
I felt a pang at that, wondering how my life might have been different if my mom had been around.
Wherever she was, she’d be about Cindy’s age, if she was even still alive.
I had no idea one way or another. I’d been five the day she drove me to my grandmother’s house and left me sitting at the kitchen table eating cookies and drinking a glass of milk.
I never saw her again, and my grandmother said that’s because no man wanted a woman who already had a kid, so I’d been ruining her chances.
I decided my life would have been pretty much the same, only with more blame heaped on me for her failing to keep a boyfriend.
“Big-time jerk, yeah.”
“You just go sit down and I’ll bring yours out in a bag at the same time I bring his. I’ll let Fred know to go heavy on the cayenne pepper on his burger. I’ll make sure to bill him for yours as well. Consider it the cost of being an asshole.”
I giggled, and yeah, it was a little mean, but I felt a little lighter, knowing I had someone on my side at least, even if it was just two people who knew me slightly because I’d been a regular lunch customer once a week.
I sat back down at the booth, and the asshat didn’t even acknowledge me, just kept texting away, his thumbs flying like nobody’s business. He kept typing away, right up until the moment Cindy carried over the tray of food.
“Here’s yours, sugar,” she said, handing me the bag. “Careful, your drink is sitting on top of the food box.”
“Thanks.”
She silently placed his plate and drink in front of him, and I stood up to follow her away from the table.
“Hey, where are you going?” Davis asked.
“I’m sorry, I just remembered something important I need to attend to,” I replied.
I left him sitting there, calling after me.
My heart thundered as I exited the diner.
Had I really just done that? Oh, my God!
I really had. I gave a relieved laugh as I hustled over to my grandmother’s ancient red Toyota Corolla which was now all mine, no more strings attached to me using it.
I sat the bag of food down on the passenger seat, removing the soda float from inside.
They’d used an extra large cup to accommodate the scoop of ice cream, I saw.
I placed it safely in the drinks holder, quickly switching on the ignition and backing out of the parking space before even putting on my seat belt as a very angry looking Davis started shouting red-faced and got up to walk towards the door.
I drove away, then laughed some more as I put on my seat belt with one hand while steering with the other.
“Elvis has left the building!” I crowed. Damn, that felt good.