33. Sweet Potato
33
Sweet Potato
Sal’s Thanksgiving was more popular than my alma mater’s battle bot competitions. I almost had to park at the bar, but thankfully, something opened up on the street.
A bunch of old men sat on the small porch out front, laughing and joking in unintelligible English mixed with Italian. Hopefully, they wouldn’t say anything to me. The fuzzy gray hair poking out of a guy’s tank top wasn’t exactly inspiring. At least he wore stretchy stuff to eat comfortably. Why no coats in the cold, though?
I hunched my shoulders up to my ears and tugged at my black wool jacket. If only I had my hat or soundproof headphones to protect me. But no. I had vanity. I’d even put on lipstick and expired eyeliner for this stupid party. I marched to the front door with my best resting bitch face.
The guy with the tuft of steel wool poking out his cleavage waved his cane at me. “Hello, sweetie. Are you related to me?”
If I said yes, would that stop him from calling me ‘sweetie?’
“I’m…Sal has something for me," I huffed.
“Salvatore?” He leaned forward and slapped his knees. “Sweet Sally.”
“Yes, he’s waiting.” I grabbed the screen door .
He pointed two sausage-like fingers at me. “I’m his Uncle Paulie. You need anything, you tell me.”
“Okay?” I slipped inside, my brows furrowed. Why would he offer to help someone he just met? He didn’t even know if Sal and I were friends.
Heat pulsed from the kitchen as soon as I squeezed into the entryway. Chatter buzzed through the house and the aroma of delicious baked meats and herbs wafted through the packed crowd. Drinks lined the hall table and guests picked off dishes covering the long dining room table. Unfortunately, Sal was right when he said everyone stopped by.
Ash paused mid-wine-pour and glared at me. “You came? Seriously?” She scanned my styled hair, made-up face, white blouse with slacks, and shiny loafers.
It was my lecture outfit. Maybe not appropriate for holiday drive-bys.
I tensed and glanced around. Was it too late to back out the way I came? I licked my matte mocha lips. “Yes, I was invited.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay.”
I must’ve really fucked things up for her to dismiss me and walk away. I jogged after her, my coat flapping at my sides. “Wait.”
She turned and sipped her wine, eyebrows raised.
Maybe I did need to explain myself. “I’m sorry I left like I did. I know Black Friday and the holiday season are busy for the store.”
“Yes,” she said, gripping her wine glass.
“It was a mental health thing.” A hot, invisibly vice squeezed around my neck, but I breathed through it. “I’m getting help. I never should’ve brushed off you or that customer, and I’m sorry. In fact, I have tips you can send her to help remove the shine of glasses in group photos. Her husband, er, partner wore them. And if you do need help, I can work via contract hours until you’re able to find a replacement. But if you don’t want to, or don’t trust me to stay, I get it.”
She raised her chin. “I’ll think about it. "
We stood there for a few awkward seconds, not quite making eye contact amid the random peaks of conversation.
Finally, she relaxed her posture. “I hope you feel better.”
“Thanks.” I smiled. Maybe one day, we could be real-life friends now that we didn’t work together. “Oh, um, Sal said I left something at True Tech?” Besides my common sense.
She shook her head. “I don’t know why he’d have it, if you did.”
“Neither do I,” I said.
Where was the stupid china cabinet and what the heck was in it?
I pushed up my glasses and walked into the crowd, where a rotund woman in a floral print dress and apron handed the stocky bouncer from the bar a tray full of food.
“See, this boy knows how to eat," she said to some nearby guests. "My favorite of Sal’s friends ever since elementary. He shovels my driveway. He loves me."
“I do, but I’ve got to get going to my own family gathering. Thanks for feeding me, Mrs. Barbieri," he said.
“Any time, sweetheart.” She blew him a kiss.
Sweetie? Sweetheart? Were Sal’s family fans of pet names no matter what the age or relation?
Part of me wanted to make a good impression and stuff my face for her, but I wasn’t Sal’s girlfriend, and I couldn’t eat and run in good conscience. She’d never know me as more than one of the crowd of his admirers.
I slipped into the dining room, ignoring the curious rumble of my stomach. Against the far wall, I spotted it: the china cabinet. And next to it, the man I’d left my heart with.
Sal smiled thinly and scratched his goatee, nodding at whatever the person he was talking to was saying. His hair was a little wild, like maybe people had been messing with it all day. He didn’t look like his happy-go-lucky self. The light in him was dim. Quiet, actually .
Should I ask him about the cabinet or wait ‘til he was finished with the conversation? I certainly didn’t want his mom's first and only impression of me to be some girl in glasses raiding her china cabinet without permission.
I wiped my sweaty palms on my sleeves and wove my way closer. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize me. Maybe he’d be happy. Maybe…
“Janice,” Mrs. Barbieri cheered.
Sal’s gaze shot to the kitchen.
Shit. He was still hung up on her.
I turned so he wouldn’t notice my staring and pretended to survey the food options. There were three kinds of sweet potatos. Interesting.
His mom and ex moved closer, through an open living room, as she ushered her toward some paper plates. “I’m so happy you came. Even though you and Sal didn’t work out, you can still be part of the family,” she insisted.
“Thanks, Marie. You're all very sweet.” Janice feigned a smile, her hair and nails absolutely giant and fabulous.
“So, why’d you break up with him then? Did he do something?”
“Ma.” Sal paled and marched over.
Janice waved her acrylic nails, then lightly dragged them down his chest, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. “No, he’s great. We're just not meant to be. Did you know he built me a dream house in this virtual reality thing?"
“Oh, I’d love to see.” Marie wiped her hands on her apron.
Sal flicked his chin fuzz, his face flush. “That’s not necessary.”
“Show me.” His mom gestured to his handheld game. “We all want to see.”
“Don’t be shy,” the chorus cheered.
Shit, shit, shit. If he went in, he wasn’t going to find Janice's dream house. And there was only going to be one explanation for where it went.
I tried to run out, but there were too many people, so I bounced around different pockets of space like I was in a human pinball machine.
They were all crowding over, pushing me towards him.
My heart raced. There was no escape. Not unless I stiff-armed my way through his relatives. That’d definitely make an impression.
He sighed and logged in, Janice tittering about fairy lights, her mom's pie, and the ePhone15. Too bad she left out how she dumped him because this virtual world wasn't expensive enough for her tastes.
Uncle Paulie tapped my leg with his cane, making way for me, and I almost jumped out of my skin.
“See, I told you, he’s a sweet kid,” he said. "I had to call him the other week to help me after I fell. This leg, eh? He left his friend's house right away. He's reliable, that kid."
“I believe you, but I really ought to leave.” I reached for my absent hat, then pushed my hair aside instead.
“You didn’t even eat.” He drew back and waved one of his sausage fingers at me. “Ah, I see. You’re sweet on sweet Sally.”
Heat radiated through my body. “I’m–”
“Wait, what the hell is this?” Janice asked.
“I don’t know. I put up the wall, but…” Sal frowned at the screen.
Oh my god, did I misread everything? Was this a total invasion of privacy to mess with his server again? A fever wracked my body at the thought of facing him again.
“This isn’t…? Oh, Sal.” Marie gasped and covered her mouth.
I braced myself for screaming. Outrage. Judgment.
Instead, people laughed with wonder. “Look at that.”
“It’s Grandpa’s workshop,” Sal said warmly, no doubt taking in the dozens of custom toys, wallpaper, and even the Geppetto avatar I’d made over the last few days .
“You made this?” Marie asked, the family pressing in around her to see it.
“No.”
“Who did?” Marie asked.
He swiveled, his bright eyes lasering in on me. “She did.”
Everyone turned to me.
I swallowed to loosen the tightness in my throat and attempted a small smile and wave. “Hi.”
So much for first impressions. At least this was a good one, right?
Janice scowled and crossed her arms. “Where the hell’s my dream house?”
“Storage.” Along with any inkling of jealousy I’d had for the beautician. Right now, Sal’s smile was just for me, and that was a level-up to last a lifetime.