Chapter 7: Happy late birthday, Abby

Abigail’s POV

“Hi, Momma!” I squeezed my cell phone between my ear and right shoulder while I sat in my parked car. I parked in the back row of the Taco Bandito parking lot. I backed into the space so I’d see when Elle pulled into the lot.

“Hi sweetie, how was work?”

“Good,” I dug in the bottom of my purse. “Good –” I couldn’t find my favorite lipstick.

“Good! When are you coming home for dinner?”

“Um,” Where was my lipstick? I took a huge swing of water from my bottle, and it smudged my upper lip. Elle could not see me like this.

“Abigail?”

“Sorry, Momma!” I replied. “Anyway, I got some plans after work actually!”

“With whom?" Momma asked. Her phrases were shorter. I could tell she was annoyed. "Where you goin’?”

I knew the perfect way to get her boiling anger to cool off. “I wanna hang out late with James,” I started, but I trailed off when I saw the bright glimmer of the pink glittery tube sparkle in the sunset on the passenger side floor.

“James!” I swore Momma leaped up from where she sat on the other side of the phone.

“When? What are y’all up to?”

“Well,” I smeared on the bright pink lipstick in between words. “Well, we’re gonna get dinner. He actually should be here soon.”

“Oh, Abigail, are you using my lipstick now?” She asked.

“Yes, Momma. Of course! I gotta finish this up for him.” I puckered my pink lips. They looked perfect.

“Yes! Talk to me about it later!”

“Love you, Momma!” I capped the lipstick.

“Love you too Abigail. Buh-bye!”

* * *

The clock on my phone now read 6:16 p.m. I wished I ate something before our dinner date as I told myself I would, but I couldn’t. After Elle’s invite, my stomach started as a few butterflies keeping me afloat and on my toes. Then, they multiplied into a restless whirlwind. I kept tapping my manicure on my steering wheel. Maybe I scared her away.

Beep – beeeeeeep! A long car horn drew closer to my parking spot in the lot. Elle pulled up smoothly next to my parking space and leaped from her driver’s side. She met me on my way out of my car.

“Abby! I’m so sorry I’m late. Work was busy today.”

“It’s alright.” I was not alright five minutes ago, but everything is now that she arrived. We walked together into the restaurant, and she held the door for me.

The inside of Taco Bandito looked like an airbrush painting on the side of a hippie’s van melded with the colors of a desert sunset. If any surface of the restaurant could hang something, they’d hang a sombrero: one above the bar, a few on the back of the booths for larger families, and even one inside the women’s restroom. At the front desk stood a cactus with sunglasses that danced while you walked by. It wiggled at us when our waitress ushered us to follow her.

We were seated at a table for two in the farthest corner away from the bar, next to a window.

“I swear the food makes up for its tackiness,” I said as I hung my purse on the back of my chair.

“I’m sure it’s great!” Elle was always so optimistic every time I’m around her.

The waitress came by fast, in fact too fast for my liking, but I didn’t hold it against her. It was an incredibly slow weeknight. She was probably bored, for once, and we were her only table.

I gestured for Elle to order first. I was starving. I considered ordering a salad because Momma always told me boys “don’t like it when a girl stuffs herself like a pig.” But, Elle was a girl. Everything around her felt much more natural. Maybe I could afford to order a burrito.

“Can I get um,” Elle looked at the menu one more time. “Four of the steak tacos, please.”

“And for you, hon?” The waitress asked.

It was now or never. My stomach rumbling swayed my decision.

“The chicken burrito.”

She scribbled with her pen and notepad, took our menus, then left us alone again.

I felt my palms sweat and played with my manicure under the table. I tapped my nails together, intertwined my fingers, and kept myself busy from nervous jitters. I glanced at Elle, nervous to see her judgment of my order. She was typing something on her phone and snickering. I thought maybe she didn’t notice my extra-large burrito order, but that didn't make any sense. Of course, she had to know. She just didn’t care. When she saw me looking at her, she put her phone away.

“Sorry, I got a funny text from my friend,” Elle said.

“Oh, that’s okay,” I replied.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen her in a while. We send each other funny posts and cat pictures sometimes though.”

“Why haven’t you seen her?” I asked.

“Long story short, my dad has had to move around a lot my entire life. I used to know her back in high school. We haven’t seen each other since I came here a few years ago.”

“Oh, that’s too bad –” I started.

“No, no! I like it here.” She smiled for a minute, but it faded quickly. I hated how fast it left.

“What’s wrong?” I said.

“See, I like it here, but my dad thinks it ain’t right for me.”

“Oh?” I don’t understand.

“Yeah, I just got my apartment here and it’s going well! Business at his shop is good; I like what I do!”

“So, what’s the problem?” I raised an eyebrow.

“He’s just worried I’m not making a lot of friends with the moving around for so long. Then at my job, all I ever talk to is my dad’s buddies. He knows I can’t catch a movie or take a shopping trip with men in their 50s.” She chuckled at the thought.

“At least your dad is trying to look out for you. College sure sounds nice,” I twirled my straw in my glass of water to distract myself from this topic. I didn’t know how to relate to someone with a parent who thought of their child’s needs over their own.

“Oh, I know, but he keeps trying to nudge me to college. Just for two years, he says. He wants me to meet people, and he doesn’t want me to feel pressured to stay in his business forever.”

Elle relaxed and put her hands behind her head as she leaned back in the chair. “Anyway, if I didn’t settle here, I wouldn’t have met you.” She winked at me.

I was drinking a sip of water while I watched her rock her chair as she spoke, and she caught me off guard. I coughed and nearly spat water so far it could have hit Elle in the eye across the table. I swallowed and stopped myself from spitting all over the table and my date.

The waitress returned with our food. “Enjoy, ladies!” She gave Elle her food first, then placed mine in front of me.

“Anyway, thanks, Elle.” I unfolded a napkin and gently placed it on my lap.

“You’re –” She muttered in between her chewing and craned her neck sideways for another bite of her taco. “ – welcome.” She already had one taco gone. She grabbed another but stopped herself.

“Sorry, I’m probably grossing you out.” She said. She must have noticed me staring.

How could I tell her that her honestly and boldness fascinated me in a way that words could not fully explain? She’d never know how many times I would eat diet brand granola bars as breakfast before school. She’d never know how many times I got scolded for sitting with my legs crossed or arms on the table for dinner. I assumed for so long that the world women navigated simply existed to be different from men. Elle would not conform to that box and would never let any man snuff out her flame.

“No, Elle, I…” I couldn’t lay out all my emotional baggage on the first date. “I’m having a really nice time,” I said.

“Me too, Abigail,” She smiled. Then, she pointed to my plate. “Now, eat!” She took another bite.

* * *

I fell into my routine talking points at the dinner table in between bites. I told Elle about Gus and how he was my most attached cat. If I moved an inch in bed, Gus would awaken from his slumber to get closer to my body heat before passing out.

I told her about my job at the library and how I get free books when they get too damaged to place back on the shelves. I told her how the kids in the reading groups and field trips were bouncing all over the library walls, but they were still sweet. The key to keeping their attention was to always ask them their favorite dinosaur.

Elle picked up the bill at the end of dinner.

“Elle, please let me at least get half.”

She waved her hand at me. “No, no. I told you I wanted to make up for your birthday.”

She signed the receipt and pushed it to the center of the table. “Happy late birthday, Abby.”

“Thanks, Elle.” I pushed one of my curls behind my ear and looked out the window past her. It was a cool, dark sky outside now. I could see her just out of my field of vision smiling back at me.

“Oh, quick! Can I borrow your phone!” She exclaimed.

“Okay?” I had no idea what intentions she had, but she just bought me dinner. The least I could do was let her borrow my phone.

She typed something on the screen. “Alright and…done!” She handed my phone back to me.

Elle had opened the contacts app on my phone. My latest contact now read “Elle” with a purple heart emoji and a smiley face.

My jaw flew open.

Elle laughed out loud. An elderly woman glared at her for a moment, but Elle ignored her signal to keep her volume down.

“You need a way to contact me later, don’t you?” She said.

“Right, of course!” I replied.

“Yeah, and maybe I could meet Gus soon, too?” She said as she stood up from the dinner table.

I scooted my chair back, and she held her hand out to help me stand in my heels. She handed me my purse, and my arm was almost too limp to take it from her.

We were close now. I could see how long her dark eyelashes were. They were longer than mine, even with my layers of mascara.

“Of course, Elle,” I said. “How about this weekend?”