Page 31 of A Better Place

When he adds roasted red peppers to the toppings, I know that he has a more distinctive sense of taste than a typical sixteen-year-old, but still isn’t too adventurous. Yet. I have a feeling he’s willing to explore, and I hope that I can be the one to teach him. It isn’t every day that I come across a kid his age who is interested in culinary arts.

After placing our order, we settle in to easy conversation.

I learn that Carly is an only child, and that her father died before she was born; she doesn’t have much of a relationship with her mother. I steer clear of asking any questions about Jack’s dad, sensing that it was a topic neither of them want to wander into. Jack reveals it was his request that Carly start boxing, so that she knows self-defense. That way, when he is gone at college, and he isn’t here to protect her, she will feel safe. Hearing this tells me more than I think either of them realize, but, again, it was clear neither of them want to delve more deeply into the real reasons why.

“So, Jack, what made you decide you wanted to become a chef?”

He looks at his mom briefly. “I’m not really sure, I guess. After Mom and I moved to Liberty, we started cooking a lot of meals together. Before, I wasn’t allowed…” he shifts in his seat and clears his throat when he notices Carly stiffen, “I mean, I didn’t cook very much where we used to live. It just didn’t work out. But here? I don’t know how to explain it. I love coming up with recipes and using ingredients that are new to me. It just… when I’m cooking I feel free and it’s the only place where I don’t have to think.”

“Then I’m glad you discovered it. Never let go of it. Even if you don’t run a restaurant or become a chef one day, you’ll always need that skill. It sounds like your mom was smart by encouraging you to learn.”

“She’s pretty great.” He smiles at her and I look over just in time to see her blush before tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“What are you planning to rename Tony’s?” Carly asks and knowing that she’s invested enough in the conversation to ask questions of her own makes my heart speed up a little.

“Balance. I’m mixing in the recipes I grew up with and the foods I’ve come to love as I have gotten older.”

“I love it!” they both exclaim together. It’s weird but knowing they approve, and that they’re both curious about this part of my life – creates a sense of pride inside of me I didn’t know was there.

Once the food comes, conversation slows down, allowing us to enjoy the meal Jack ordered for us, and when we’re finished, Stephan himself delivers a trio of desserts to our table. There’s a sense of intimacy in the three of us sharing a meal. The entire evening has been so much more than I expected when I walked into Tate’s gym a few hours ago, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Our waitress lays our bill on the table and I snatch it up quickly.

“James, you don’t have to do that,” Carly objects.

“Sure I do. Friends pay for each other’s meals sometimes, right?”

“I’m getting it next time.” At her words her eyes widen and cheeks flush. I wink but don’t respond with words.

We walk outside to the darkening sky, and even though I don’t want the night to end, I know I had pushed it enough for one day.

“Thank you for letting me tag along with y’all today,” I tell them.

“Y’all, huh? You suddenly from the south?”

I smile, feeling happy that Carly is able to make a light-hearted comment. Over the course of the night she’s relaxed exponentially.

“Nah, but my father is. He’s a Southern transplant living with the Yankees.”

“Ah, so you’ve picked up a little of the lingo along the way, huh?”

“That’s right. And sometimes, when I’ve been around him for a while, I even take on the accent.”

“Gotta love a guy with an accent.” As soon as the words escape her lips, she covers her mouth in embarrassment.

I could have let it go, but it was the first time she said something even remotely flirty in front of me.

“You dig the Southern accent, huh?” I say in my best twang I’ve got in my arsenal.

She looks away and bites the corner of her mouth. I want to reach up with my thumb and pull it away but yeah, boundaries, friend-zone, and all that.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go wait in the truck,” Jack says looking between us.

“Alright, kiddo. Right behind you.”

“Take your time, Mom. See ya later, James. Thanks for supper and stuff.”

I don’t know what and stuff is, but I tell him he’s welcome anyway.

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