Chapter 2

Once the post went through, Alexi wolfed down their ice cream. It was soft enough around the edges for them to finish the whole thing by the time their break was over. The BanaNut wasn’t their favorite, but it was one they hadn’t posted yet and there were a few bananas that were getting overripe. Something about the texture of raw bananas never sat with Alexi well. Banana bread was fine, and somehow peanut butter-honey-banana sandwiches didn’t bother them either, but their favorite sundae topping was the one they had never seen at any other ice cream parlor: warm apple pie filling. The American Dream sundae was the first Alexi had posted on Foodspotting. It was three scoops of whatever flavors the customer wanted, topped with gooey cinnamon-soaked apple chunks, whipped cream, and the proverbial cherry on top. It was also their post with the most “Want” and “Great Find!” notes.

With one last check to see if there was any activity on their latest posting, Alexi cleaned up from their break and headed back out onto the floor.

* * * *

The house stank when Alexi got home. Normally they could excuse this, but they had explained to their dad time and time again that that smell made them queasy. They sighed and dropped their keys in the bowl by the door. “Dad!” they called out. “I told you to do that in the basement!”

Their dad’s gruff guffaw came from the kitchen. “I have the stove fan on!” he called back.

“Yeah, well clearly it isn’t working!” Alexi trudged into the kitchen, already dreading what they would find. There was their dad, Niko Petrakis, a half-smoked joint in one hand and a piece of tzatziki-dipped pita in the other. The tub of tzatziki on the counter in front of him was nearly empty. “Dad, c’mon, I just bought that. Were you going to save any for me?”

“Of course, but uh…you know how it goes.”

Alexi frowned. “How many joints have you had today?”

Mr. Petrakis shrugged. “Just the two. Or is this the third…Eh, as I said, hard to keep track of things like this.”

“Then don’t—Never mind. You’re getting cut off.” Alexi took the tzatziki and the remnants of the pita on the plate beside it and dug in. They weren’t particularly hungry, but this could be their only chance to enjoy some of it before their dad’s munchies made short work of it.

Mr. Petrakis took a drag of his joint. “I’ll buy a new one, promise.”

Alexi bounced their leg under the counter. “It’s fine. How was it at the Maddock place today?”

“Oh, fine, fine.” Mr. Petrakis finished off the last of his pita. “I um…I put up barriers and a tarp so hopefully no one will walk on the concrete until it dries. Should be fine by the time they get here next week, but…deer, squirrels, you know.”

“Yes, dad, I know.”

Mr. Petrakis took another drag and coughed. “How was it at the parlor today?”

“Getting busier. I’m kind of enjoying the level that it’s at right now, no long stretches of boredom but there’s enough downtime to take care of stuff behind the counter between customers.”

Mr. Petrakis nodded. “Yes, it’s the perfect time of year. Everything is warm again, days are longer, work is more plentiful, but we’re not sweating our asses off and wishing people would give us a break already.”

Alexi chuckled. “Yeah, it’s great.”

Then came the question Alexi was dreading, the one their dad asked them every time he got high. “Any cuties today?”

Alexi didn’t even bother hiding their displeasure to this question. Even though their dad had accepted that they were queer in both gender and sexuality, it was his deep-rooted opinion that because Alexi had a penis it was their duty to marry a nice girl and have children someday. Since Alexi’s life mainly consisted of work, helping their dad with his work, and hanging out with the handful of other LGBT people in the area, that meant their best bet to find that future wife was at the ice cream parlor. “No, Dad, no cuties.”

“Eh, they’ll come.” Mr. Petrakis finished his joint and got up to snuff it in the sink. “The Eriksons want me to set up their pool for them by the twenty-third, if you’re interested in coming along.”

“Maybe,” Alexi said. “We’re training a few more summer hires and Mr. Duckworth might want me to come in and help on one of my days off.”

Mr. Petrakis nodded. “Alright, I’ll let you know when I go, and if you want to come with…”

“Mhm.” Alexi mopped up the last of the tzatziki in the tub. They took their time chewing the pita so they wouldn’t have to say anything else. At this point it was a game of roulette, guessing which topic their dad would bring up next. He might give Alexi dating advice, or tell them about repaving the Maddocks’ path again, or, worst of all, give Alexi the same lecture on the importance of family and a future that they got at least twice a week.