Seven-O-Two

Matt was dicing tomatoes when Leo burst back into the kitchen, cradling a stack of dirty dishes in one arm while he kicked open the door with his right foot. 

“I think I know the girl at seven-o-two,” said Leo, setting his cargo down on the counter beside Matt’s cutting board.  

Matt gave the mess of plates and bowls and half-finished entrees a quick, side-ways glance—careful that it seemed a somewhat critical movement—and went back to his work.

“Seven-o-two,” said Matt, “two salads,” with the edge of his knife he tidied up the pile of tomato bits, “avocado and…” he shuddered, “octopus. Seven-hundreds are on the roof, right?”

Leo nodded. He was leaning up against the counter beside Matt, one arm wrapped around the stack of dishes to keep them from falling. Leo’s relaxed posture made the action appear less like a protective measure and more of a gesture of comradery. 

“Where’d you know her from?” 

“Community college,” replied Leo, “At Delco. I took a basic Spanish course there, first semester of junior year… you know, save some cash—”

“That’s smart.”

“—Yeah. And Girl-at-seven-o-two, she sat in the row in front of me.”

“So were you friendly or something?” asked Matt, then “pass me that square pan, Leo.” He had finished with the tomatoes and as he listened to the other boy talk he scraped them off the cutting board and into the steel container. 

“Sure,” said Leo, and he smiled, “she was the only other high school kid in the class. It was like we had an alliance, her and I. I miss that class,” he finished.

“Or you just miss girl-at-seven-o-two,” 

Leo laughed, and Matt shot him a half smile.

“You liked her, didn’t you?” 

“Sure,” said Leo. He said it easily. 

Matt heard the door hit the wall again as someone pushed through it. 

“Hey, Abby,” said Leo. 

Matt glanced over a shoulder.

“Hey, Abby,” he said, “could you pass me the saran wrap? Bottom shelf. Thank you.”

“You left a mess on the counter, Leo,” said the server. 

“It’s a barrier between Matt and I,” explained Leo, “I can’t stand the sight of him while I work.” 

Matt snorted. 

“Uh huh,” Abby tapped at the counter beside Matt with one long nail, “I need my entrees for seven-o-two. Where are they?”

Matt saw Leo glance at the shelf and Matt could tell Leo had forgotten all about the food. Leo hurried over to the shelf and grabbed the only ticket in sight. 

“Cali roll and crab fried rice,” he read, and then with a glance at the shelf, “of which both are ready.” 

Abby sighed. 

Matt felt her pass behind him and then after a moment he saw her leave the room again, in a hurry this time.

“I’m sorry, Abby,” called Leo, “we’re so slow tonight I forgot all about it.”

The server waved him away and the guy on fry laughed but that was all. It was a slow, Tuesday night, past eight now, and the usually bustling kitchen had lapsed into a quiet and tired sort of semi-slumber. The stoves were still on and the chefs were still there, but with hardly a single ticket between the lot of them. 

“Lies, all lies,” said Matt once Abby had left.

“What?”

Matt set the wrapped container of diced tomatoes into the fridge. Then he turned and leaned up against the counter with Leo so that they faced the tired chefs on the opposite side of the kitchen. 

“You’re too nervous to go to table seven-o-two,” said Matt.

“Yeah right.” 

Matt gave Leo a quick smile and then, dropping to one knee, opened the fridge beneath the counter and began to sort through the plastic containers of sauce and chopped fruit. 

“We’re running low on Gochujang,” said Leo.

“I’ll make some more,” he replied without looking up from the fridge, “can you get me one of the big bowls… to your right, yes.” 

As Matt searched through the fridge he heard the familiar click click click of the ticket printer behind him and the sound of Leo’s hard shoes on the tiled floor as he moved to check it.

“What do we have?” asked Matt.

“Dessert for seven-o-two. Abby wants it sent up in twenty. Baked Alaska.”

Matt glanced up from the fridge and Leo passed him the ticket.

“Abby is in a hurry to have them out of here,” said Matt with a laugh, then, “I’ll start on it in ten. But you’re taking it up.” 

Leo sighed, “I’m gonna mess it up. I just know it.”

Matt laughed again and went back to sorting through the fridge, “you’ll be fine, Leo. All you’re dealing with is fire, alcohol, and a girl.” 

Matt had the dessert done ahead of the clock, and while Leo polished glasses, watching him work all the while, Matt added a few strawberries onto the side of the meringue—cutting them lengthwise and laying one piece atop the other with a handful of blueberries. After a moment's thought he took the butane torch and gave the meringue one more burst from the intense, blue flame so that the edges of the spiraled cone took on a darker hue. Leo finished with the glasses and then Abby came down to see the dessert off. Matt thought that she seemed pleased with it. 

Matt was wiping down the counter when Leo came back in, flipping the lighter around his hand absently. In the other he carried a small, wooden plate with the cinnamon tucked between the alcohol and chocolate in matching mini-pitchers. Leo was grinning as he set the plate down. He flipped the lighter around once more, and then dropped it into his back pocket. 

“How’d you manage to light the cup on fire?” asked Matt after shooting Leo a quick glance.

Leo swore and clapped a plate over top of the pitcher of alcohol that had been burning steadily on the plate. 

Matt laughed, “did you pour more on after you lit it?” 

Leo shrugged, “go big, right?”

“But it went well.”

Leo’s face split into a huge smile. 

“It was some real class-A work,” he said, “I did the bit, I said my name, and I lit that cake on fire. The cinnamon sparked well… and our chemistry,” Leo snapped his fingers, “Oh, the banter. It was class-A work, man. Real good stuff.”

Matt leaned back against the counter and began to wipe at his hands with a towel.

“Who was she with?”

“Some friend. That was a bit awkward but I pretended she wasn’t there and then it was smooth sailing.”

“I’m sure that was a joy for her.”

Leo rubbed at his chin, “it was. Class-A work, man. Class-A.”

“There they go,” said Leo, his eyes fixed on the window. 

It was after dark now. The burners were off and the guy on sushi was hosing down the floor. Matt had packed up. He’d changed back into his shorts and sneakers, stowed the apron and gloves, and was leaning up against the counter waiting for Leo to wrap up. 

Matt glanced over in time to see two girls walk past. They stopped at the top of the street and Matt moved closer to the window. It was hard to make them out through the hazy, yellow light of the streetlamp.

“Who is who.”

“Riley is on the left. The one with the bob.”

The girl turned and Matt could see her clearly in the low glow now. Her hair was cut short—a light brown—and her face was round—full cheeks, small nose and small eyes. She was a head taller than the other girl and as Matt watched, Riley made a wild, sweeping gesture, and her friend laughed. 

“Hang on,” said Matt, “I know her.”

Matt played with his keys as he walked and Leo followed on his right. The night air was warm, and after the stuffy, hot atmosphere of the kitchen, it felt perfect. Matt soaked it in as he walked, rolling back his sleeves and leaning back his head till he could just make out the stars through the telephone wires, the celestial dots somewhat muted from the dull glow of the street lamps and the brighter, pocket square windows. 

“So you’re saying she works up the street?” asked Leo for the fourth or fifth time. 

Matt nodded. He flipped the keys around and tossed them, watching as the keys spun, hung, and then fell down into his outstretched palm with a bright jangle. 

“At Becketts. Two blocks down.”

“I don’t really know the town, not having lived here and all that.”

Matt nodded, “you know Will, right?” 

“Sure.”

“He lives in town. Only a few blocks from here. He showed me Becketts. They have this classic fountain soda…” Matt paused for a moment, tossed his keys, watched them fall, and caught them again, “Well… that’s what they called it. We would go there just for the soda.”

“And the girl?”

Matt nodded, “she works register. At least every time Will and I were there she was working the register.”

“Hmm,” said Leo. 

The two of them walked together in silence for a few moments. Matt didn’t mind it. He had hit his rhythm. He took a deep breath, inhaling the summer air and smiled. Matt found that he had the urge to run. There was something about the night that made him feel elated and calm all at once. Matt smiled and tossed his keys into the air. 

“You should ask her out,” said Matt. 

Leo stopped walking and looked at him. Leo seemed to be considering Matt more than the actual proposal, as though he were giving Matt a once over. Then Leo smiled and started walking up the street once more. Matt moved to follow him. 

“Simple as that?” 

“Sure,” said Matt, “you like her. You can’t stop thinking about this girl and she works three minutes away from the place you spend half your week at.”

“I mean, yes—”

“And you have your pact. Your alliance, right?”

Leo laughed.

“You and her against all the college kids. Sounds like a great deal to me.”

Leo shrugged.

“I say you go for it.”

They had made it to their cars now. Leo had his door halfway open and was drumming absently on the roof, thinking. Matt leaned on the roof across from him and watched his friend’s face. 

“I do miss that Spanish class,” said Leo finally. 

Matt worked that Wednesday and Friday, but Leo was off both nights so it wasn’t until the Tuesday after that he saw him. Leo was polishing glasses when Matt came in. It was only a quarter past four and the sun cut through the window, brighter than Matt thought possible and in such a way that it caught the dust in the air and made it shimmer. Matt felt dazed. 

“Hello Leo,”  he managed, one arm up to ward off the light.

“Matt.”

Leo finished off a martini glass and set it onto the counter. He inspected it for a moment, and then brought it in line with the other martinis. Matt moved past Leo, nudging a rack of glasses out of the way, and bent over to check the fridge. Whoever had been on the night before had stocked the whole fridge. Matt couldn’t find a single item out of order—not even a squeeze bottle—and he found it unnerving. 

“Did you ask her yet?” said Matt after a moment. He shut the fridge and stood up, leaning against the counter shoulder to shoulder with Leo, “oh, and want a hand? Some maniac did their job and now I’ve nothing to do.”

Leo tossed him a cloth napkin and Matt found a glass from the rack for himself. 

“I want play by play.”

Leo smiled, “well, she said yes.” 

“Oh, you can’t lead with that.”

“Not much to say,” protested Leo, “she said yes. I’ve got her number and all that.” 

Matt sighed, “there’s no tension in that. You have to build up to it. Make me think she thought you were crazy.”

“I hate tension,” said Leo.

Matt smiled and finished off the glass. Leo had made his way through half a dozen while they talked. The table was growing cluttered and when Matt set his glass down the whole thing wobbled dangerously.

“One of the legs is off,” explained Leo, “the floor is curved there,” and he pointed. “Scares me every single time.”

It was odd talking to Leo. Something was wrong and Matt could tell it, but he was lost as to what. Leo didn’t talk near as much as he usually did. Leo smiled but he was slow on the draw and as he worked, it seemed that Leo was looking off into space. He had found that mystical “point-on-the-horizon” and had been following it for the past fifteen minutes.

Matt finished another glass and set it on the counter as Leo finished his fourth.

“You don’t seem happy about it?”

Leo set a fifth glass on the counter and then tucked the black napkin into his back pocket and braced himself against the counter, hands stretched out behind him. 

“Yeah,” said Leo. He took a deep breath. His eyebrows scrunched down and his forehead wrinkled and he cocked his head to one side as though considering something. 

Matt set his napkin down and waited. 

“I drove over late to Becketts on Friday. I couldn't work up the courage Wednesday, and Thursday I was here and it didn’t feel right to do it before or after. I don’t know. It was an off day. So I drove over from my place, Friday night,” Leo paused and scratched at his chin, “I wasn’t sure she’d be there on a Friday. Most people would rather not work a Friday night shift. But the chance of Riley not being there made it seem like a done deal. If she was gone, well too bad. I’d done my bit and that was that.

But she wasn’t. Riley, wasn’t. She was on the register just as you said. It was past nine. They have those white bulbs in Becketts that give the whole place a raw, unreal feel. You know the type?”

Matt nodded. 

“So it was past nine and it was just me and her and some lady in aisle three. I grabbed some food, chips and bottled water. Random stuff like that. Honestly I was so nervous. I just walked up and down the aisles stalling and then I’d take something off the shelf and stall some more, rinse and repeat, until my arms were full.

I dropped the stuff at the counter and she was ringing me up while I stood there. I didn’t know how to start but then I saw she was wearing a Bowie shirt and,” Leo snapped his fingers, “we had something to talk about.”

“Easy as that?”

“It was scary easy.”

Matt picked his napkin back up and began to wind it around his fingers, twisting the cloth until the corkscrew broke and the whole thing unwound again. 

“So how did you pop the question? I mean you made the jump from music to,” and he stressed the word, “love, somehow.”

“It wasn’t a great jump.”

“More of a sprint?”

“I mean it was a jump but not in a subtle way,” Leo smiled, but it was an embarrassed smile, “I jumped like I was switching trains but on the way over I snagged my pants on the railing.” 

“Your words exactly?”

Leo nudged at the glass rack with the toe of his foot.

“Something like…” Leo paused and made a wide, sweeping gesture with one hand, “hey, this might seem incredibly forward to you, but you seem like a really great person and I’d love to get to know you better.”

Matt nodded, grinning, “very classy.”

“Thank you. I thought so.”

“What’d she say?”

“Well, yes…”

“I know, but how?”

Leo stopped for a moment, and Matt saw him find that far off point again. It was only for a moment, and then he was back, rubbing at one eye and looking suddenly very tired. 

“She said…” Leo scratched at his chin, “Riley said… she wished more strangers could be just as genuine and honest as I was.”

Matt coughed, “Verbatim?”

“Yeah. I wish I was remembering it wrong, but… yeah. There was a bit after about how I seemed nice and had a pretty face or some line like that and we exchanged numbers and all, but I was zoned out, man. I didn’t catch much else after that.”

“So, she doesn’t even remember you after coming here.”

Leo shrugged, “I mean, maybe I’ll find this funny in a few years. It’s just… she is the same person. The same person that I remember from Spanish, I mean. Funny in the same ways and beautiful, with the same voice and hair cut just as it was back when I sat behind her in class, Monday, Wednesday, Friday each and every week. But now I feel like she is just as much a stranger to me as I am to her. It is odd, man. Just really odd.”

Matt didn’t know what to say.

“I mean, at least she seems to like you.”

Leo shrugged, but he smiled all the same.

“There is that.”

“That has to count for something right?”

“Still, it feels odd.”

The kitchen was filling up now. Leo began to pick up the glasses, lining them between his fingers until he had eight or nine in one hand, all facedown. Matt moved back to his station and began to sharpen his knife. The light from the window was lower now, ever so slightly and as he worked he had to duck low over his board or the sun would catch him right in the eyes. It made his head ache and he couldn’t help but feel as though there was something off about everything.