The Queen of Minor Disasters (36 page)

It
is
my birthday, after all.

I can imagine it already.
Roberto will walk through the front doors holding a big bouquet of roses (from
Dots and Bows, not Quick Mart). I’ll be at the hostess stand, juggling a
million things like I always do, but as soon as I see him the world will stop.
Slowly, he’ll walk towards me and hand me the bouquet. Before I can even say
“thank you” he’ll cup my face in his hands and give me a kiss. At this point,
the entire restaurant will be watching; service will have stopped for a minute,
as everybody awaits what’s coming next. Then, without saying a word, Roberto
will drop down to one knee and take my hand. He’ll look up at me with those
gorgeous brown eyes and say…

Ok, maybe I’m getting a little
ahead of myself. But he
did
say
he wants to settle down, and remember, he
does
think I’m amazing.

I decide on a red strapless
A-line dress, with a full shirt. I pair it with brown open toe heels and wear
my hair down. Gina has given me full permission of her Bobbi Brown case, so I’m
all dolled up and ready for the night. I’m feeling so good that I wouldn’t even
mind going to the Beachcomber tonight.

“Wow, hot stuff,” Gina says
when I walk down the steps. I laugh, but inside I really do feel hot.

“You look beautiful Stella,”
my mom says. Then she looks me up and down and adds,  “too elegant to go to
work though.”

             Maybe she’s right. Maybe I did overdo it
a little, but hey, it’s my birthday
and
Labor
Day weekend. As far as I’m concerned, anything goes.

I change into flip-flops
before heading out the door, carrying my heels in my hand. “I’ll see you
tonight,” I say waving from behind the door.

I walk on the street hoping to
see Roberto, but the only person I pass is Fr. Jim, walking his Golden Lab in
front of the church. “Hello Stella,” he says with a smile. “Off to work?”

“Yep,” I reply picking up my
pace. “Don’t want to be late.”  The last thing I need is that dog drooling on
my dress.

As I unlock the door my phone
starts to ring. Of course, I’m carrying the biggest bag in the world and I
can’t find my phone. I sift through the various lip glosses, used tissues, and
old receipts littering the bottom of my bag, until I finally grab my phone. I
answer it without looking at the caller ID.

“Hi Stella. Happy Birthday.”

The voice stops me dead in my
tracks. I don’t believe it.

“Hi Drew.”

“How’s it going?” he asks
casually, as if he didn’t completely crush me. As if he’s not engaged to Trisha
Motley.

“What do you want?” I snap.

“I just wanted to talk.” He
pauses. “I miss you. I made a mistake.”

There they are, the words I
waited months to hear. I’ve imagined this moment so many times. Replayed it
over and over in my mind. Fantasized about it, believed in it. But now, it’s
all wrong. I don’t care about Drew anymore. And I don’t care what he has to
say. In one swift motion I flip my phone shut. It’s over. It’s been over.
There’s no need to open that door ever again.

I turn off my phone and drop
it in my bag.

“Stell, I need help on table
four,” Brittany says halfway through the night. It’s 8:30 and we have
reservations coming in until 11:00. I look over at the table and see six women
laughing.

“What’s going on?”

“They’re not happy with me,”
she says looking down.

“They just sat,” I say.

“I know, but they saw Dante
and they want him.”

“So just switch, what’s the
big deal?”

“I don’t know, they said they
wanted to talk to the manager about it.”

I raise my eyebrow and walk
towards the table.

They’re still laughing when I
arrive, and I can see that five of them look to be in their fifties. The
younger girl looks about my age, though I’m always bad at judging these things.
None of them look familiar, but like always, on holiday weekend, the place gets
full of strangers. The ladies have brought three bottles of red and two bottles
of white. If they drink all that wine, I’m sure I’ll be calling a taxi for
them. “Hello, I’m the manager,” I say loudly.

“Look at you, Ms. Thang,” one
woman squeals and they all laugh. I get the feeling they’ve been to happy hour
before coming in for dinner.

“Can I help you with
something?” I ask, trying to remain calm, though I’m slightly annoyed.

“I love your dress,” a woman
with long brown hair and a spectacular tan says to me. The dress would actually
look great on her.

“Thanks, it’s Marc Jacobs.”

Did they need something? Or
did they just want to talk fashion?

“You have lovely taste,” she
replies. She takes a sip of wine and continues. “This is my daughter, Caitlin,”
she says gesturing to the younger girl sitting at the table. Now that she
mentioned it, I can certainly see the resemblance between them. Both of them
have shiny hair and golden tans, though Caitlin looks fairer skinned than her
mother. I smile.

“My daughter has impeccable
taste as well,” she continues. “And she knows what she wants.”

Well good for her.

The other ladies laugh and I
can see Caitlin’s face get as red as my dress.

“That’s great,” I say. At this
point, I’m finished with this table. They’re just drunk and slightly obnoxious.
“Can I help you with anything?”

“Well, as a matter of fact.
We’d like
him
to be our waiter,”
the mother says pointing to Dante as he walks by.

“No problem, I already
switched him to your table.”

“What’re his stats?” the lady
asks me.

Stats? I have no idea what
she’s talking about, so I look at her blankly.

“Is he taken?”

I almost laugh. “No, no, he’s
not.”

The lady looks me up and down
and before she can say another word I continue. “He’s my brother, Dante.”

The ladies giggle a bit and
the ringleader looks relaxed. Poor Caitlin is mortified and I can feel her
pain.

“Do you think he’d like my
daughter?” the mother asks me.

I glance at Caitlin, who as
far as I can tell, is actually interested. “Of course he would, he’s not
blind
.”

The ladies giggle like
teenagers. “Well send him over,” the mother says. “And let’s get this party
started.”

I smile tightly and turn away
from the table. Thank God my mother is not
that
embarrassing.

           
“Good luck,” I whisper to Dante as he approaches the table. Thankfully,
he’s a good sport about it, and as I watch him flirt with the table, I see that
he’s actually really good at it. Dante is by far the most quiet out of us, and
I never would have thought he’d be able to play into them that much.

           
“What’s up with that?” Lucy asks at the hostess stand.

           
“I have no idea,” I say with a laugh. “People are so weird.”

           
At about 9:30, my parents, Pietro, and Gina come in. My mom is carrying a
huge cake decorated with “Auguri Lorenzo and Stella” piped on it. Gina is
holding a signature bouquet from Dots and Bows. “Your table’s right this way,”
I say very professionally. My dad hangs back as I walk, and while the others
sit, he grabs my hand and squeezes it. “I heard about your date with Roberto,”
he whispers. “Good choice.”

           
I smile and squeeze his hand again. I wonder if the Lancettis have called
my parents to start arranging the wedding yet. If not, I’m sure they will while
we’re on our date.

My parents finish up their
dinner at 11:45, and my mom disappears into the kitchen to get the cake. The
last thing in the world I feel like doing is having birthday cake, but I don’t
want to make her feel bad for making it. The restaurant is almost empty except
for a few campers who are sipping wine and lingering over chocolate soufflé, so
my mom gathers all of the servers, bussers, and dishwashers around to sing to
me.

           
I sit there watching my entire family and suddenly, the night doesn’t
seem so bad. I blow out my candles and wish for…

           
Well, I’m not telling you
that.
Everyone knows you have to keep your wishes secret if you want them to come
true.

           
My mom moves to re-light the candles for Lorenzo but he stops her.

           
“I already have everything I could possibly wish for,” he says grabbing
Lucy’s hand.

           
How lovely.

           
As soon as we finish the cake everyone gets up to leave. In the
restaurant business the owners can never sit for too long. Before I can start
clearing off the table, my dad pulls me aside.

           
“I have something for you,” my dad says and reaches into his pocket. “I
didn’t have the chance to give it to you this morning,” he says holding out a
mini manila envelope. My name is written on the front but I don’t recognize the
handwriting. I look at him.

           
“Open it,” he urges.

           
I flip open the flap and peek into the envelope. I pull out a thin gold
chain with a small cross dangling from it. It looks so familiar, but I can’t
figure out where I’ve seen it before.

           
“It’s from Grandmom,” he says and instantly. Her smiling face flashes
before my eyes. I turn the envelope over and see that it’s her handwriting on
the front.

           
“I had it cleaned,” my dad says. “She wanted you to have this when you
turned thirty, but I figured you could use it now.”

           
I reach up and clasp the necklace around my neck. It falls midway to my
chest and looks so delicate against my skin.

           
“She got that necklace right before she came over to America and wore it
every day of her life. It was precious to her, and I’m sure it will be to you
too.”

           
Tears start welling up in my eyes as I think of my grandmom. “Thanks,” I
say, more to her than to him.

           
“She’d be so proud of you Stella. You’re exactly like her.”

           
For the first time, I believe him. I am like my grandmother. Full of sass
and ready to take on the world.

           
Less than an hour later, I collect everyone’s checkouts and take the
money into the office, where I can calculate the tips. As soon as I plop down
in my chair, my foot hits my purse. I pick it up and shuffle through it,
looking for my phone. When I turn it on there are seven full text messages from
Drew. I delete all of them because that’s exactly what my grandmom would do.
She would never let a man treat her the way Drew treated me.

           
The next morning, I feel like a new woman. It’s like as soon as I
realized Drew was all wrong for me, the world sent me all kinds of
possibilities. Namely, a new life with Roberto.

           
Instead of going for my usual run, I fix myself a steaming hot mug of
coffee and enjoy the first rays of sunlight, creeping across the sky.