“Hey, Lou,” the waitress says as she steps up to the table. “The usual?”
“Oh. Hi, Margie.” Her lips twitch up on one side. “I’ll have a glass of white wine.”
“Wine?” The young woman laughs. “Since when?” It sounds more mocking than humorous.
“Since she asked for it,” I snap.
“Oh.” The woman, Margie, turns to face me. “Sorry. What’ll you have?”
“Scotch. Rocks.”
“Right.” Margie turns quickly, making a beeline to the bar. Instead of ordering our drinks, however, Margie leans in to talk to another person from the waitstaff. There’s even pointing. At us.
“Nice place.” Yeah. That was sarcasm.
Picking up her napkin, she flaps it around until it’s unfolded and places it on her lap. “It’s fine. The food is good.”
I couldn’t care less about the food. Picking up the menu, I see there are limited options for dinner. Pinned over the top is the special of the night. Meatloaf.
Sure, I’ve heard of meatloaf I’ve just never had the urge to try it. I read the description and it sounds, well, it doesn’t sound good. Ground meat mixed with a number of other ingredients that is then formed into a loaf? My stomach flips at the thought. Looking over the menu at Lou, I see she’s not looking at hers. “You know what you’re going to choose?”
“The special.”
Meatloaf.
“You enjoy a loaf of meat, do you?”
Her head tilts to her right and a frown appears. “Loaf of meat?”
“I’ve, uh, never had meatloaf.”
“You’ve never…?” She frowns again. It quickly turns into a smile, but it looks like she had to work at it. “Well, then, consider this your lucky day. You get to try something new.”
“I think I may get—”
“Here’s yourwine, Lou.” Margie, the waitress, sets down a rocks glass filled to the rim with clear liquid. “And your Scotch, sir.” Mine is served in a martini glass. Interesting.
“Great.” I take a sip and immediately cough. Scotch, my ass.
“Do you know what you’d like for dinner?”
“We’ll both have the special.” Lou has taken it upon herself to order my dinner. I’m not about to be rude, no matter how terrible it’s going to taste.
“Where are you from?” Lou asks as soon as the server is gone. She sips her drink after she asks but sets it down quickly.
“California.”
“Wow. California.” She lifts her glass to sip but must think twice because she sets it back down.
If my Scotch tastes like dirt water, I can only imagine what her wine tastes like. “Shall we order ourselves a beer?”
“Yes.” She sighs and laughs. “Please.”
Once we get two beers, I ask her, “Have you ever been to California?”
Lou shakes her head. “I’ve been to Chicago for a high school trip. That’s probably the biggest city I’ve seen. Also Omaha, Kansas City, and Des Moines, when I’ve been on the hunt for salvage, specific for one of my renos.”
“Chicago.” I nod. “It’s a very livable city.” That was an asinine statement, but what else can I say? I hate Chicago. Not that I’d let someone from my past prevent me from liking whatever the hell I wanted to. I wouldn’t… except Chicago.
