Forgotten Yesterday (6 page)

“Hi,” I say with interest. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”

He rubs his chin. “Why not?”

“I don’t know,” I nervously laugh. “It sounded like you had a full schedule and well...how did you know I was working tonight?”

Clasping his hands together, Brent beams, smiling directly at me. “I didn’t. I just thought, maybe.”

“Oh.” I pull my lips into my mouth. Noticing the empty table, I ask, “Is anyone here with you?”

“No. Just me.”

“What about Johan?”

“He went out for dinner with some guys from the team.”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“Something like that,” he replies in an even tone.

I nod, filling the silence with a gesture rather than words. We look at one another for more than a few uncomfortable seconds. The silence stretches forever, or at least it feels that way.
What is there to say?

“Can I get you a drink?” I ask, breaking the ice.

“Sure.” Brent leans back against the black cushioned seat to get a better view of the bar behind me. “Guinness.”

“Anything else?”

“No, that should do it.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

I return to the bar and put in the order. While Brent’s beer is pouring, which is a process, I check on my tables again. Clearing one of the table’s plates, I head back into the kitchen to check on the status of their entrees.

Getting a glass of water, I drink it to keep my adrenaline level even. Seeing Brent again tonight wasn’t as shocking as the first time, but I’m trying to keep my mind, body, and feelings, my
old
feelings, in check.

“So who’s the guy?” Astrid asks, getting a drink of her own.

“What guy?”

“The one at the bar in the booth? You know him, right?”

“Yeah. We went to high school together.”

“He’s pretty cute.” She opens up one of her bill folders, shuffling through the contents. “An old boyfriend?”

“Yeah, he’s that too.”

“Hmmm. I figured.”

“What does that mean?” I ask defensively.

“Just the way he looked at you.” She takes another drink. “And the way you look right now.”

“And how do I look?”

“Like you’re not here. You had the same look last night, too.”

Well, she hit that nail on the head.

“I just haven’t seen him in a while,” I explain, hoping to justify anything she may be gleaning from my recent behavior. “He was here last night, too. We kind of ended badly and went separate ways. It was a long time ago, though.”

“I get that.” She nods. “Been there and done it. Twice. Take my advice and don’t look back. It never works out. Trust me. I did the relationship backpedal only to find out that what’s comfortable means that nothing has changed.”

“I’m not getting back together with him,” I retort at the preposterous notion. “He doesn’t even live here. He’s only in town for a few days on business.”

“Mhmm.”

“Table 35 in the window,” Jared shouts.

“I got it,” I call back, racking my glass with the rest of the dirty dishes. “That’s my table,” I say to Astrid as she continues to go through her customers’ bills.

Going right to work, I put together my table’s entrees on the tray and don’t give any stock to what Astrid has just said. What happened to her doesn’t apply to me at all. Brent and I are over and have thousands of miles to keep us that way. We put them there.

Brian tries to get my attention between the chrome shelving as my hands move each entree to the tray. Waggling his brows and making flirty gestures, he sets up the plates for the next table.

“So Ruby,” he starts. “Do you think I can get your number, so we can plan on going out later?”

Pulling the tray up to my shoulder, I say, “Yeah, remind me later,” and basically run out of the kitchen.

I serve my table and then make my way back to the bar, finding Brent’s beer waiting to be served. Pat is at the tap, pouring another one.

“You could have taken this out,” I tell Pat, referring to the beer.

“I was busy,” he winks, waving to the nearly empty bar.

Giving him a mocking “whatever” look, I pick up the beer.

On my way to Brent’s booth, I notice that one side of his mouth keeps twitching. Placing a small square napkin on the table, I set his drink in front of him.

“So,” he begins casually, grabbing the glass of dark liquid. “I guess this is the awkward conversation part?”

Jerking my head in his direction, I laugh. “What do you mean?”

“You know.” He shrugs one shoulder. “I ask you how you’ve been and you tell me fine, and then you ask the same of me and I tell you things are good. All the while neither one of saying anything of importance.”

Pursing my lips, I try not to smile.

“Yeah. Sounds good to me,” I say sarcastically. “Let’s do this
not saying anything of importance
thing. Do you want to go first?”

“No,” he chuckles. “Not really. I don’t want to pretend at all.”

“Damn, and I was already working on an interesting comeback which could mean nothing or absolutely everything.”

“Oh, yeah? What were you going to say that was so interesting?”

“I was thinking about going for something like awesome, rad, fantabulous, or possibly fantastic-o.”

“Would it be true? Are things fantastic-o?”

“Who knows?” I shrug. “It’s all relative, right?”

I can feel us sliding right back into comfortable and easy conversation.
Is this backpedalling?
No, this is just talking to someone I know. He’s just here for a visit,
that’s it.

Brent shifts in his seat, resting his forearms on the table. “Can I just be up front?”

“Like I can stop you.” I cross my arms over my chest. My heart pounds everywhere. The blood is pulsating even in my toes.

“I’m not going to lie. I was really surprised to run into you last night and I know you may be mad at me—”

“I’m not mad at you at all,” I interrupt.

Brent observes me, unblinking.

“Honest, it was a long time ago.”

“For what it’s worth.” He rubs his jaw. “Even though it may be a little late, I want you to know I’m really sorry about what happened.”

“I know. So am I.”

My toes wiggle inside my shoes. It’s the only part of me that I can hide and still move.
I need to move.
I shift my weight a few times, not sure what to say.

 “Can I ask you something?” he probes gently with an underlying hopeful tone.

I inhale acutely, praying he doesn’t want to bring up everything that tore us apart.

“Sure,” I answer cautiously.

“Do you think...maybe...you’d like to have brunch with me tomorrow morning? If you aren’t busy of course.”

What?
I gawk at him. No words can be found.

“Just to catch up?” he adds.

My head moves up and down in the affirmative, my body answering what my mind cannot process fully.

“So, you’re not busy?”

“No,” I say, finding my voice. “I’m not busy. We can catch up.”

“And you’re available tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” I blink a few times. It’s like I’m responding without any thought. Something has taken over and I’m nothing but involuntary actions. “I can do tomorrow.”

He pulls out his phone and I tell him my digits as he punches them into his contact list. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I cover it with my hand, so the buzzing isn’t noticeable in the stillness of the bar. 

“Aren’t you going to see who it is?” he asks, eyeing the hand on my leg.

“Not right now. Not while I’m at work.”

Boldly, he reaches into the front pocket of my apron and pulls out my phone. He proudly grins and then shows me the screen.

“That’s me,” he states, referring to the flashing digits. “I was just making sure you didn’t give me a fake number.”

I laugh. “You get that often?”

“No, but I know you.” He hands the phone back to me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he chuckles. “Maybe I don’t know you. What do I know?”

“Exactly.”

My cheeks are hurting.
I’ve been smiling too much and I didn’t even know it.

“I’ll call you.” He scoots out of the booth, dropping a bill on the table.

“Aren’t you going to finish your drink?” I ask, referring to the almost full beer.

“Nah.” He stands up, towering almost a foot taller than me. The scent of his cologne blissfully invades my senses as his chest stops a few mere inches from my nose. “I don’t really drink much. Game night and all.”

Brent’s dimples flash quickly. He raises his right hand, hovering it near my elbow, but never connecting. Sorrow flickers across his face and he stuffs both of his hands into his pockets.

“I’ll call you in the morning so we can figure out where to go,” he says methodically. “Does ten o’clock for brunch, work for you?”

“Sure, but it will be cutting into my beauty sleep.”

“If you say so,” he replies humorously. With a half smile, his eyes trace the length of my physique. “You look good, Ruby.”

“Thanks.” I check the knot on my apron. “So do you.”

“Glad we got that out of the way.” Brent takes a step backwards and then turns to exit. I immediately zone in on his ass, which is accentuated oh-so-nicely since his hands are in his pockets, pulling the fabric tight. “Good to see you,” he calls over his shoulder, startling me.

I’ve been caught ogling.

“You too,” I reply, embarrassed.

Brent nods his head and then disappears behind the bar room’s partition.

Every part of my being suddenly feels heavy and weighted to the floor. I’m a statue adhering to his parting words and the sound of his voice.
Him
.

Seven

It’s almost ten o’clock and my shift is officially over. I change out of my uniform in the downstairs break room and then climb back up the steps, ready to leave. Even though it’s early for a Saturday, there’s nowhere I want to go other than home.
I’m done.

Walking through the kitchen, I say goodbye to everyone in passing as they continue with the evening’s service. When I see Brian, I’m reminded that he wanted my number and I’m at a loss. My apprehension has everything to do with seeing Brent again and the old memories being stirred within me. But I need to push those aside. We may have plans for tomorrow, but like Astrid said, backpedalling in a relationship isn’t real—it’s comfortable.

“Hey, Ruby?” Brian inquires, coming out from behind the pass.

“Hey, Brian.”

“So,” he says smoothly. “I was wondering if I could get your number, since I won’t see you again until next weekend.”

I bite the inside of my cheek.
I’ve become a number slut tonight.
Brent and now Brian. Although, I’m not sure if I should count Brent, since we’re just going to be catching up like two friends.
Keep telling yourself that. Brent could never be just a friend. And now…I have no idea what he could be.

“Sure.”

He pulls out his phone from his back pocket and I recite my number. A tinkling giggle escapes as I think about how Brent dialed my digits ensure the number wasn’t fake.

“What’s so funny?” Brian asks, amused.

“Oh nothing.” I tap my lip with my forefinger. “I was just thinking about something a customer said tonight.”

“Oh, like a joke?”

“No. Not really. I think you had to be there.”

“Right.” He stuffs his phone back into his pocket and straightens his hat. “So, I’ll give you a call sometime. I work tomorrow, but maybe we can do something during the week?”

“Sure. I can do during the week.”

“Cool.” He rubs his chin. “It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah,” I say, shrugging my bag higher up onto my shoulder. “You guys have a good night,”

“Thanks.”

Parting, I make my way through the rest of the kitchen and out of the restaurant. It’s not too late, so I decide to save a little money and take the bus home. It takes twice as long as a cab ride, but I’m not in a hurry.

Entering my small studio apartment, I welcome the stillness. Everything has gotten messy and I need to take a step back. Brent’s unexpected visits have thrown me for a bit of a loop, and yes, made me a little “off.” I decidedly don’t like surprises from him. I used to love them, but they don’t make my heart flutter like they used to. Instead, I’m left confused and questioning too much.

I take a quick shower, grab the ice cream from the freezer that I promised to myself, and take a seat on my bed. Watching a movie was the original plan, but I’m no longer in the mood. I open the pint of Mint Chocolate Chip and dig in while staring vacantly out the window. It’s not much to ponder over, especially at night. A few tree branches and brick from the adjacent building, but it’s a constant.

Halfway through the pint, my phone dings with a text. It’s nearing midnight and a little late for casual conversations.

Can we meet at The Drake? I have a thing I need to do there at noon that I forgot about.