17. Foster
SEVENTEEN
FOSTER
I probably shouldn’t put too much thought into the fact that we’re wearing the same shoes. Converse high-tops aren’t exactly rare, especially at concerts. Yet, as Sophie drives us toward the city, I can’t help my eyes from journeying to her feet. I don’t even attempt to stop them from taking the scenic route on their way. She looks as stunning in the dark blue jeans and a simple light blue T-shirt as she did in the gown.
I pull my attention away from her outfit and stare out the windshield.
“Do you ever use cruise control?” I ask, noticing that the current driving conditions would have me turning it on in a heartbeat.
“Not if I want to arrive somewhere alive,” she says, and I’m not sure if she’s being serious. When she sees my expression her smirk fades, and she looks back at the road. “I used it once right after I’d gotten my license, and I ended up getting distracted. Let’s say it’s a good thing the cows weren’t in the south pasture because I renovated the fence with my mom’s car. In second year, I was diagnosed with ADHD and a lot of things started to make sense.”
I peek down at her feet and notice her left foot tapping to its own beat. I work with kids everyday with ADHD, but just because someone fidgets doesn’t mean they have it. I try and think back to when we were kids. I remember Sophie being very active and chatty, but nothing really stands out.
“You can close your eyes and sleep, you know. I won’t be offended.”
Fat chance. I change the subject. “So did you know that we have managed to go on three friend dates in alphabetical order?”
I watch her forehead scrunch. “What?”
“A, alumni. B, barbecue. C, concert.” I count on my fingers.
“Interesting,” she says, sparing a quick glance in my direction.
“I kind of want to see if we can get through the entire alphabet.” And when we finish the alphabet, we’ll start at the number one and go from there, and after we get bored of numbers, we can do nouns.
“We’ve also managed to switch off every other one. Are we accidentally really good at this?”
“Nothing accidental about it, sunshine. So, what do you say? Should we go for the D?”
“That sounds kind of dirty.” She laughs.
“It does, sorry. Let me rephrase: shall we attempt the letter D next? I dare you to do this with me.”
She groans. “What did you have in mind?”
Sex. That’s literally all I have in mind now.
I pretend to think for a bit, but I already knew what I was going to suggest the minute I woke up today. “My friend Lucas is performing in a drag brunch this Sunday.”
I watch her light up immediately. “I’ve never been to a drag show! I’m in. I guess that leaves me with E.”
“I do believe that letter comes next, yes.”
“I’ll have to give it some thought.” Her face suddenly falls, “Shit, can you open my calendar. I think I’ve got plans with friends on Sunday.”
“Password?”
She lifts her hand off the steering wheel and moves her finger as she recites, “369870.”
Her screen unlocks, and I’m instantly distracted by the background picture. A cow’s head lays on the grass and a smallish white dog is asleep with its head on the cows nose. “That’s Lloyd and Yogurt,” she says when she notices me staring at the picture. “Cass’s boss’s dog and the cow he raised for his first year after my father forced him to take him in.”
“Wait, what?”
“A few years back, Bennett, my parents’ neighbor and Cass’s boss, was all sulky because he let the love of his life leave without telling her how he felt. So my dad showed up at his house with a calf that had been rejected by his mother. Literally walked into the man’s kitchen with him. Yogurt, the dog, is Bennett’s, and the two have basically been best friends ever since.”
“I think Cass may have mentioned a cow when she started the job, but she’s always throwing out random names and I can’t keep track.”
“I don’t blame you. I know a lot of them personally, and I still can’t. Half the time I don’t know if someone’s talking about an animal or a new employee.”
“They do love giving them generic human names, eh?”
“Or food. Marley was on a roll a couple years back. They had a fat tan tabby come in, and she named it Biscuit. A wiener dog that she named Frank, but she always mentioned that it was short for Frankfurter. Let’s see.” She purses her lips while she thinks, and I have the urge to lean over and kiss her. “Chowder, Waffles and Jellybean have also all been used. Waffles was adopted by someone who owns a breakfast place so that name proved to be useful.”
“I guess you’d see that as meant to be.” I yawn.
“Destiny,” she agrees. “Speaking of food, do you feel like anything in particular for dinner?”
“Food.”
“But what?”
“I honestly will eat anything, just don’t make me pick. I need to save all available energy for belting out ‘Let’s Just Pretend.’”
She laughs as if I’m joking, but over the last week I have gotten very into that song, and I do not plan on sitting quietly by when it’s performed tonight.
“That would make my whole night to see,” she declares. Sophie Hore is not prepared for how made her night is going to be.
“How about we flip a coin five times? Heads, we take the first turn on the left. Tails, we take the first turn on the right. Then after five turns we eat at the first restaurant we see.”
I watch eyes slide sideways before snapping back to the road. “For someone who doesn’t want to use any energy deciding on where to eat, that is a very elaborate way to decide.”
I shrug. “But an interesting one, right?”
“Yes. I think there is a coin somewhere in my bag.”
I look down and then back up at her. “As in you’d like me to find it?”
“If you wouldn’t mind. Unless you’re afraid of tampons or something,” she teases.
“I’ll have you know,” I say, picking up her bag and plunking it on my lap, “that I have not only seen tampons before, I’ve purchased them.”
“I bet you got nominated for Boyfriend of the Year for that move.”
“Well, it was for Cass so she may have put my name in for Brother of the Year,” I reply with my face practically in Sophie’s bag, which is a lot like Pete’s pockets. I push aside multiple chapsticks, a loose piece of gum, a half-eaten granola bar, countless receipts, two pens, and a hair elastic. My fingers brush a coin buried in the corner as I’m about to give up. I hold it up triumphantly and set her purse back at my feet.
“Okay, call it.”
“Heads.”
“It’s tails, so the first right we take when we get off the highway.”
Thirty minutes later, we are making our first right followed by another right and a left which leads us to a dead end. It takes ten minutes to back out of the alley and we decide that maybe we should verify the following turns using GPS in order to avoid that happening again.
“Alrighty,” I say after we make our last turn, “keep your eyes peeled for a res?—”
“There!” Sophie shouts, swerving into a parking spot in front of what looks like a great place to get tetanus.
I get out of the car and reach the meter before Sophie realizes what I’m doing. “Foster Steven Walsh, you put that card away right now,” she yells as she rounds the front of the car.
“Too late.” I grin over my shoulder at her, joy bubbling away in my chest over the fact she remembers my middle name.
I hold the door open for her and stop inside when I see the interior of the place. “Colonel Mustard’s marsupials.” The place is absolutely covered in paper. Post-it notes and ripped paper scraps adorn the walls and ceiling. Even most of the tables look to have a fair amount under their glass tops.
“Well, if all these people have eaten here, that’s probably a good sign, right?” Sophie asks, squeezing by me and walking to the hostess stand.
“How many?” the woman behind the stand asks, already picking up two menus.
“Two,” Sophie tells her.
“Table or booth?”
She looks back at me with her eyebrow raised. It’s not that busy in the place, but the booths offer a bit more privacy. “Booth, please,” I tell the woman who leads us to a table near the back.
“Your server will be right over, enjoy,” she informs us before walking away.
Sophie is lost in the wall immediately, leaning in close to read the notes. “‘The love of my life died yesterday. I’m drowning my sorrows with fries and margaritas.’ My god, that’s fucking sad,” she murmurs before reading the next one. “I was here, and now so are you.’ Deep.” She laughs.
While she looks at the notes on the wall, I begin reading the ones on our table. They are a mix of wise words and ridiculous observations. “Here’s a good one. ‘People don’t talk about their good days enough.’ I am definitely guilty of that. Ha!” A laugh bursts out of me. “Yes, I’ve heard of Jesus, have you heard of Google?”
“I have a friend who has that taped to their mailbox.”
“And?”
“People still knock and leave pamphlets. Want to write our own?” Sophie holds up the stack of paper that is sitting against the wall, a cup of pens beside it.
“Maybe after. I need to think of something clever.”
When our server arrives to take our order, we decide that if the fries are good enough for a grieving person they must be worth getting, and because we can’t decide on mains, we order four other appetizers.
“A meal of apps, solid,” the server drawls before taking our order to the kitchen.
“I’m going to wash my hands.” Sophie slides out of the booth and walks to the back of the building.
I use the opportunity to write a note. I’ll write another later, but there is a secret I’ve wanted to share since I was a kid and now seems like a good time to do it.
At 16, I fell in love with a girl.
I’m 28 now and still falling.