“So, the back is clean as a whistle and prepped for tomorrow,” Javi tells me.
“I just gotta mop and we should be good to go,” Robbie tells me. “Oh, and refill the condiments and the supplies at the take-out window.”
“I can do all of that. You guys can both knock off.”
“You’re my favorite boss,” Javi announces with a grateful smile. “Just don’t tell your mom or I’ll deny it.”
I smile as Javi starts to pull off his apron. Robbie doesn’t leave with him though, as Javi heads toward the door. “I’d like to stay, if that’s okay. And finish up. Not in the mood to go home.”
“Well, I have a hot date so I’m outta here,” Javi announces and he’s smiling bigger than I think I’ve ever seen him smile.
“Oh yeah? Anyone I know?”
He laughs when I ask that. “It’s Ocean Pines. Of course, it’s someone you know.”
I’m about to ask him who, specifically, but there’s a knock on the door. I look past Robbie and Javi and find Abbott looking back at me. “Jesus. Not tonight.”
I know my words sound particularly grumpy, but Abbott’s earned it. Javi unlocks the door and lets Abbott in. “Kitchen’s closed,” I tell him and turn to Robbie. “If you really want to keep working, then get to it. I’ll handle the take-out window. You mop.”
Robbie nods and heads into the kitchen to grab his supplies. Javi waves as he leaves and Abbott steps inside and lets the door close behind Javi. I notice, out of the corner of my eye because I’m trying to ignore him, that he and Javi exchanged an odd glance. “I’m not here for food.”
“Abbott, I just worked back-to-back shifts. My back is aching and my feet are killing me so I just can’t tonight,” I tell him honestly. “And Robbie is here so… whatever you have to say, business related or otherwise, will have to wait. I just want to get home and collapse.”
“Yeah. I get that,” Abbott says. “But I wanted to know if you saw my press conference.”
“I saw it, but even if I didn’t, I would know about it,” I tell him as I march over to the window at the end of the counter that faces the back patio, where boats who have docked come to grab the orders they called in or placed online. “Everyone has been talking about it all day.”
I reach under the counter and pull up a cardboard box filled with packets of ketchup and mayo and start filling the bins on the counter where we keep them so we can grab them and toss them in the take-away bags. “Abbott Barlowe has a local lover. Abbott Barlowe, hometown hero, is in love with one of our own. How exciting!”
My tone is literally dripping with sarcasm. So much so I’m even annoyed with myself. Abbott huffs out a frustrated breath and scratches roughly at his beard before saying, “Declan, you are so quick to eat up everyone’s bullshit when it’s going to make you feel like shit. Why is that?”
The door from the kitchen swings open and Robbie walks through it, dragging his mop and bucket. He glances up as he drags it into the center of the room and kind of freezes for a minute. I guess he can sense he walked in on something. “Robbie, seriously. I don’t mind doing it. You should just go.”
“I kind of don’t… I don’t want to go home and if I can’t be here working and I don’t want to go home, then I might… end up at a bar, or something,” Robbie says. His whole face turns red with embarrassment. Or maybe shame. Either way, I feel like a jackass immediately.
“Then I definitely don’t want you to stay here,” I tell him softly. “I want you to go to a meeting. Let me text Logan and ask him where there’s one tonight.”
“They have a late-night meeting over at the Anglican Church on Hill Street in Biddeford,” Abbott interjects. “I can drive you if you want.”
“No. I know. I don’t want to go,” Robbie says. His eyes are wide and desperate. “I just… I need to work.”
Abbott and I exchange worried glances while Robbie begins mopping, the floor like his life depends on it. We both watch him for a few minutes. Then I grab the napkins and the box of bamboo take-out utensils and leave them on the counter. Abbott has moved to sit at the counter, and I walk over and pull open the cooler with the ice cream in it. As Robbie mops and Abbott takes turns staring at his phone, Robbie, and then me, I grab a boat shaped dish off the clean rack and put together a banana split. By the time Robbie has finished mopping I’ve created a masterpiece. Three scoops — chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry with caramel sauce, chocolate fudge, and marshmallow topping, all sandwiched between a perfectly ripe, sliced banana and coated in the finest whipped cream made by a local Maine creamery.
I drop it on the counter and motion for Robbie to sit in front of it. He does. I drop a spoon down beside him. “Ma always makes us food when we’re struggling.”
“Lucy Hawkins medicine,” Abbott remarks with a smile. “Try it, Robbie. It never fails.”
He takes a bite and a small smile hits his lips as his spoon dips in again. He looks over at Abbott. “Congrats on the whole Cup thing. And the new team. You’re kind of an inspiration.”
“Thanks, but trust me. I struggle too,” Abbott says to Robbie. “I don’t go to meetings, but that’s only because the league has a private counseling system I can access.”
“I’m just stressed because my parents are moving,” Robbie says. “And I’m not sure I’m ready to be on my own and I don’t want to pick up and move with them and I don’t even have the money for a decent place of my own. I’m in my thirties and I can’t afford my own place. Pretty fucking pathetic, huh?”
Abbott shakes his head. Robbie smiles. “Shut up. It is and we both know it. We all know it.”
“Robbie, I can’t afford my own place either. Not one that isn’t above my parents’ place so don’t feel shame about that or I’ll have to feel shame too,” I tell him.
“What?” Robbie blinks.
