3. A BAR ACROSS THE STREET

PAST

Matilda didn't speak much English, but we communicated just fine.

“Morgen,” she said, her eyes fixed on my lips.

Kiss me.

Obviously.

I obliged.

“Morgen.” She laughed and said again.

“She wants to know if she’ll see you tomorrow,” explained Ellen.

“Morgen. Ja. Ja!” I nodded.

“Okay.” Matilda smiled and got out of the car.

Jayne let herself in the front seat and stared sullenly after her. “She walks funny.”

I laughed. Matilda walked sexy—with a seductive sway to her hips that got more pronounced when she knew she had eyes on her.

“I like her,” I said to Ellen.

“I knew you’d get along,” she replied. “She really likes you.”

“So what else is new? Everybody likes Troy.” Ryan slapped me in the back good-naturedly.

“And I like you,” said Ellen, sidling up to him.

“Sheesh.” Jayne rolled her eyes. “Now that we’ve cleared all that up, can we go? Mum said to be home by six.”

With my parents out of town, Bob and Lizzie had taken me under their wing.

“Why don’t you just stay here until they get back?” they said.

“Thanks, but I prefer my own space.”

Truth is, I would have loved to stay. Lizzie was a mean cook, and Bob often took Ryan and me to work with him. We’d take pics of the properties he was listing and goof around at local hangouts until he was done.

But I couldn’t stay. Because staying meant running into Shayda, and I didn’t want to feel that intense awareness of her shoot through me. It made me feel alive and lousy at the same time, because I had no business thinking about her. So I accepted Bob and Lizzie’s dinner invitation instead. She would be gone by then and I wouldn’t have to wrestle with my misplaced reaction to her—look at her, don’t look at her; talk to her, don’t talk to her.

“Hey,” Jayne rolled down her window and pointed to a Greek restaurant as we drove by a busy stretch of the road. “This is where Shayda works!”

“I thought she works for Dad,” said Ryan.

“Yeah. In the day time. At night, she waitresses here.”

“She has two jobs?” asked Ellen.

“Mmmm.” Jayne nodded. “She’s always working. She has to sponsor her family over from Tehran. I think her parents and brother are still there. She’s only been here a year though.”

“Mum said she had an arranged marriage,” said Ryan.

“It wasn’t arranged-arranged. Her aunt set them up when she moved to Toronto.”

“You think her family got her married so they could all move here?”

“What do I look like? The six o’clock news?” Jayne swatted her brother.

“I’m just asking,” said Ryan. “You two seem to have hit it off.”

“How old is she anyways?” asked Ellen.

“Same as you. Twenty? Twenty-one? I’m not sure.” Jayne shrugged. “She doesn’t talk much about herself.”

*****

“Any plans for Canada Day?” asked Bob.

“Not really. I’ll probably just catch the fireworks at night,” I replied. With Matilda.

“Can Ellen and I come over? You guys have such a fantastic view out on the lake,” said Ryan.

“Sure. Consider yourself invited.”

“Why don’t you join us for lunch, Troy? Then you guys can head out together,” suggested Lizzie.

“Thank you. You’ve just spoiled me with that delicious chicken. You know I’d never turn down your cooking.” I smiled.

“I’ll make something too,” said Jayne.

“You?” Bob and Ryan looked like they’d just been smacked in the face.

“Yeah, me. You gotta a problem with that?”

“I’m glad you’re taking an interest, Jayne.” Lizzie hid a smile. “What’s with the sudden domestication?”

“It’s not sudden,” Jayne protested. “I just didn’t...you just don’t know about it. That's all. None of you know.” She sputtered indignantly.

“Well, I look forward to whatever it is you plan to serve us,” said Bob.

“Sure. You have insurance,” replied Ryan.

“Mom!” Jayne was not amused.

“I was thinking of inviting Shayda and Hafez too,” said Lizzie. “What do you think?”

“I think that would be fantastic,” said Bob. “After everything they’ve been through, being around family would lift their spirits. Even if it’s not their own.”

“Why? What happened to them?” asked Jayne.

Bob and Lizzie exchanged a look.

“Let's just say they’ve had a rough start,” replied Bob.

A wild, unruly part of me crawled out from the ranks, wanting to know more, but I secured it, like trapping a horned spider under an upside-down glass. I couldn’t contain it too long though. The beast broke free on my way home.

I stopped at a bar and found a table by the window. So what if it happened to be directly across the street from the restaurant Jayne had pointed out, the place where Shayda worked?

One drink, I told myself. Then I leave.

But a man can make one drink last for a long time when he wants to. And so I sat there, ignoring to the stares of women in clingy dresses, nursing a dry manhattan, as I watched the waitress across the street.

She was wearing the same yellow dress, with a green apron around her waist. Her hair was tied back and she occasionally tucked a loose strand behind her ear. The patio was full, the music loud. She seemed to be the only one serving the tables. In and out she darted, balancing trays of drinks and bread and entrees. She smiled when she was supposed to, talked when spoken to and brought the check at the end of the meal. It was as if she was there, and yet removed, like she had carefully stowed away the part of her that was her, and was moving around in a hollowed-out robotic assembly of hands and legs and eyes and face. It wasn’t something you’d notice, unless you’d seen her, the real her, like I had for those few beats on the sidewalk. Because even momentarily, she had shone, so bright that I wondered what she’d be like if she were free and unrestrained.

I stayed until she turned the sign on the door to ‘CLOSED’ and the lights turned off inside. But she wasn’t done. She came back out and watered the plants on the patio. She must have been dead tired, but this was the part she enjoyed. I could tell because she stroked the flowers gently, letting her fingers sing to them, perking up their tired, wilted forms after a hot, sunny day. Then she found a small table in the corner, away from the lights, and had her dinner.

Why was she sitting here alone? Why wasn’t she hurrying home to have dinner with her husband?

Not your business, Troy. Not your business.

I watched as she tidied up, collected her things and walked to the bus stop. She was fumbling in her purse for change when the bus obscured her from my view. Then she was gone, an unknown commuter on a sleepy ride home.

I pulled out a few bills from my wallet and swallowed the last of my drink. I thought about calling Ryan and letting him know I was going to skip lunch tomorrow.

Hey, Ryan. Guess what? You know your father’s assistant? Yeah, the one that’s married. I just spent the last few hours stalking her. That’s what I said. I sat across from her work and watched her. I wish I knew. She just gets to me, man. I feel like shit. I know. I don’t think I can sit across from her and her husband and make small talk. You get it, right?”

I called Matilda instead.