“Wanna try this?” I asked her. “I’ve been once before, and it’s pretty damn good.”
“Smells yum. Did you know, vegetarian food is big in a beach town? We have a juice and vegan place on every corner. But I didn’t take you for a veggie. More of a carnivore.”
“Back at home, I’m all about the meat on the grill, but this shit’s growing on me.” I winked at Emerson, and with two fingers in the air, motioned to the hostess that we needed a table.
“We only have bar seats right now. That okay?” She waved toward the bar seating, facing the open kitchen.
I looked at Emerson. “You okay with that?”
“Great,” she told the hostess.
Seated in front of the hot grill, Emerson scanned the kitchen with wide eyes.
“You like to cook?” I asked her.
“I do. I’ve always experimented in the kitchen, especially during the long winters. Most of the places close up until the vacation season, so my dad and I ate at home a lot.”
“I bet you’re a good daughter.”
“Nah,” she said softly, rearranging the condiments on the counter. “My dad misses me now, and I didn’t leave on good terms.”
“I’m sure he understands. People fight.”
“I did the one thing he asked me never to do. Look for my mom.”
“Can I get you guys anything to drink?”
A brusque server interrupted our moment, and I could have sworn I saw relief wash over Emerson’s face.
“Beer?” I asked.
“I have a great IPA from upstate on tap,” he said, his gaze dropping to Emerson’s bare legs.
“Great, I’ll take it. Em?”
“I’ll have one too.”
“ID?” The server eyed her up and down.
“Oh, I forgot it. Never mind,” she said with a weak giggle.
His eyes still on her thighs, I suspected he may have served her if I weren’t sitting next to her.
“Thanks, buddy. Bring some Cokes too,” I said, dismissing Mr. Leery Eyes.
Emerson side-eyed me again when he left. “I think I’m too young to be with you.”
“Be quiet. Now, tell me why you think your dad won’t forgive you.”
She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and I noticed the pierced earrings studded along her cartilage. A tiny hand, an evil eye, and an arrow. Obviously, she felt she needed to ward off bad juju.
“He hates my mom, ever since the day she left me on his doorstep and walked away. Not because of me, though. That I believe. He loves me, did the best he could, blah, blah. But he hated her for never coming back, for not realizing her mistake. I mean, who doesn’t want to know their daughter? But he didn’t look for her or try either—instead, he strangled me with rules and tried to keep me under his thumb.”
“Maybe he needed that,” I said. “For himself. Maybe he worried you would leave too. Or maybe he worried about you being hurt again. I mean, I’m sure it wasn’t easy growing up not knowing your mom. I know ... because of my dad. I had Bruce, though.”
“Well, I did leave. And, yes, it hurt, but not in the way he thought. I didn’t feel like I was missing something other than answers. I wanted to know why she did it.”
“You’re not in Africa or the Middle East. If she wanted to see you, she would’ve. Not to be harsh, but sometimes you gotta let these things go. And you can’t tell me I don’t get it.”
