A pit settles in my stomach. I’m not a huge follower of football, but I’m pretty sure Jameson Wahlberg goes by Jamie. I’m almost positive he’s the founder of Playful Paws. Is there a chance he’s who I’ll be working with on this event?
Crud.
After dropping Flash off at home, and actually putting on makeup for the first time in a while, I arrive at The Red Llamafeeling like I might actually vomit. In most aspects of my life, I can hold my head high with dignity. For some reason, I’m more nervous than I’ve ever been. Well, I know the reason. It’s because if the man I’m meeting is Jameson Wahlberg, I’ll undoubtedly be stupidly tongue-tied and embarrass myself.
Looking around the parking lot, I don’t notice any obviously expensive vehicles, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’d quickly Googled Jameson as I waited for Flash to pee before removing her from her wheelchair to give her a rest in her crate. I follow football, on and off, and am a fan of the Colorado Coyotes, but I haven’t done a deep dive into any of the players until now. The information I discover is enlightening, and I quickly realize I may have misjudged him based solely on his appearance, as well as his interview skills.
Jameson Wahlberg is not, nor has he ever been, flashy. According to multiple interviews, teammates have teased him for his lack of fashion sense. There also doesn’t seem to be much bad publicity about him at all. From all appearances, he seems to be quiet, and keeps to himself. But there’s an air of confidence and superiority that emanates from him. He knows how to flash those pearly whites and draw everyone’s attention. Yet there’s something familiar in his stance during interviews. His posture is stiff, even though his eye contact seems engaging.
It’s like he’s masking.
For me, I mask when I’m in unfamiliar situations that increase my anxiety. It’s also a very important facet of how I survive public events. When I mask, I’m basically hiding any autistic trait so I can seem more ‘normal’ and less neurodiverse. I hate thinking of it that way, because I know I’m not abnormal. But it’s just the way it is: neurodiverse people are expected to blend into the neurotypical world, and not the reverse.
I take a deep breath in through my nose, holding it, and counting to five, then release it slowly through my mouth.Focusing on my breathing helps to regulate my heart rate, and within a couple of minutes, I’m finally feeling comfortable enough to open the car door. One foot in front of the other, I feel like my feet weigh fifty pounds each as I slowly make my way to the front of the restaurant. I don’t like meeting new people this way. It’s why I’ve never done online dating. I know this isn’t a date, but the concept is the same.
As soon as I open the restaurant door, the hostess smiles warmly at me. “Audrey! I didn’t see an order for you. Are you dining in? You never eat inside!”
God. Even a hostess I don’t know recognizes I’m weird. I could never eat alone in public. I don’t take offense to the hostess noticing this, but it makes me sad that someone recognizes such a minor thing about my life. “Oh, I’m meeting someone. James Young. Jamie?”
Her eyebrows rise. “You’re meeting someone. Here?”
I nod. “We’re working on an event together. It’s not a date. I’d never meet someone here that I didn’t know at all for a date. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that, but I could never do it. Blind dates. Online dates. Well, basically any dates at all, but that’s beside the point.”
Brows furrowed in confusion, with a little bit of pity featured in her eyes, she nods sympathetically. “I don’t have anyone here that is waiting for someone, and definitely not anyone named Jamie. Why don’t I get you seated, and I’ll bring your party to you when they get here?”
Oh my God. Am I honestly getting stood up for a work meeting by someone I’ve never met,andat one of my favorite restaurants? I’ll never be able to show my face here again. Heat floods my face, and I can only imagine the shade of red my cheeks must be. “Oh. Okay. That’s fine.”
I follow behind the hostess as she cheerfully takes me to a back table. I quietly sit as she places a menu in front of me,which is silly because we both know I have the thing memorized. “Yuca Fritas while you wait?”
I nod. “Yes, and a glass of ice water, please.”
Might as well enjoy some of my favorite foods before I leave this place forever. I make a mental note to see if they deliver, because I’m just not sure I can go without Ceviche for the rest of my life.
While the bones of the restaurant are fairly standard, it’s the way the owners have livened up the space that has always spoken to me. Colorful strings of pom poms cascade down the front windows, as well as one wall, while another wall features a beautiful floral backdrop perfect for selfies. Lights with red shades drop from the ceiling over a handful of tables, and they have the most amazing type of glassware. I know many people talk about the autism spoon or fork, but for me, it’s always about the type of glassware. The Red Llama has a beautiful set that has me tracing each line of bumps as I await my possible dinner companion, and my possible last appetizer.
Yuca Fritas are the Latin American equivalency to French fries, but have a sweeter and nuttier taste. I love the yellow chili sauce served with them, and could probably drink the sauce if needed. Pulling out my phone, I keep my head down while I scroll through a listing of professional journals I want to read this spring, and I enjoy my wonderful appetizer.
Thirty minutes later, I’m slowly eating my fritas, aware that I’ve been stood up. Is it considered being stood up if it’s not a proper date? Whatever the case, it’s obvious the person I’m supposed to work with on this event is a disrespectful jerk. It’s well past eight o’clock, and I have a long day tomorrow. Sighing, I motion for the server to bring me my check. As I wait, I fire off a response to James Young.
Me
Mr. Young, since you clearly do not respect my time, any correspondence moving forward can be done over email or text, but I’d prefer to work with someone else the board recommends. You may not feel a charity benefiting animals is important, but it is to me. I’ll be letting the board know you aren’t a suitable person to plan the upcoming event.
James Young
I have no idea what you’re talking about, Dr. A. I’ve been waiting for you for thirty minutes. And this charity is important to me. Much more than you would ever understand.
Me
I’m at the restaurant, Mr. Young. You aren’t here. Unless there are two The Red Llama locations?
James Young
Not that I know of. The restaurant is almost completely empty, and I’m the only guy in here. I definitely don’t see you.
Wait. What does he mean by that? Raising my gaze, I look around the space. An older woman sits quietly at a table by the door, and a couple with an infant eats by the pom-pom wall. Craning my neck, I see the top of a head, facing the door, but I can’t tell if the person is male or female. A hoodie covers the person’s head, with the brim of a cap sticking out, only barely. Is that him?
Me
