One of my favorite things about working at a deli is making sandwiches. I have my own personal way I love to create a sandwich, but customers usually have very specific ideas about what they want. I have no problem with that because the best part of all is watching people bite into something they enjoy. Like eyes-roll-in-the-back-of-their-head enjoy. To know that I did that—made something that someone really loves—is a pretty awesome feeling. And it makes me think I may not be such a bad person after all.
Today is Sunday and I get to be here all day, which I like. Usually it’s a church marathon day for us, but there’s one thing my parents understand better than church, and that’s work. The deli closes early on Sundays, and after I’ve cleaned up I can go home and be alone.
Mr. Lowell owns the deli. He was a customer at the 7-Eleven in our subdivision when I used to work there. He came in almost every day and one day he asked me if I liked working there. I told him it was okay, but that I wanted something with more hours, more money, and more to do. He offered me a job.
“Evan, check the inventory to see that we have enough ham and all the cheeses for next week. It’s entertaining season. We’re going to be getting orders for party platters.”
“Going right now.”
I start toward the walk-in locker. Before I enter, I hear, “Excuse me, is Evan Panos here?”
I don’t turn around. I recognize the voice and instantly start to feel warm and queasy. I quickly dive into the locker. It’s cold, but I don’t mind. I like it in here. I make a game out of taking inventory. I pretend that I’ve been captured by a rival spy agency, because I’m a spy now, and I have a plan to escape from this locker they have placed me in. I have just a few minutes (usually three) to find my way out and steal their agency secrets . . . which are hidden in the meats and cheeses.
The door to the locker opens.
It’s Mr. Lowell.
“Henry is here for you. How’s the inventory?”
“It looks like we can use three more hams and probably at least two more blocks of cheddar. The rest we’ll be good with. But I want to take a second look. Tell him I’m busy and he can go. He doesn’t have to wait.” I lie, “I’ll call him later.”
I go back to taking visual inventory of the roasted turkey, the provolone, the salami. I hear the door close behind me. I stay in there for as long as I can stand it.
I come out and announce, “Yep, looks like we’re all good except for the ham and cheddar.” I scan the place and it’s Henry-free. We close in five minutes, so I should be safe.
Once outside, I’m reminded how much I love fall. I try to walk when I can in order to take in the light, sky, and leaves. Plus it’s just the right amount of chill and sun. I don’t have to deal with a heavy coat and all the other stuff you need to keep track of. I can smell wood burning. Maybe I’ll stop at the 7-Eleven and get a drumstick.
As I make my turn onto Wolf Road toward the subdivision, I hear a car slow down and pull up behind me. It stops.
I glance over. Glance away.
“Evan.”
I stop, trying to tamp down the thrill I feel. I’m disappointed that he still has this effect on me. I slowly turn around. “Henry.”
“Didn’t mean to freak you out.” He gets out and walks toward me.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m stalking you.”
“Fuck you.”
Henry’s eyes are not meeting mine as he says, “I’m an asshole.”
“Go on.” He can be difficult to resist, so I keep my distance.
“I miss you.”
“Really?” I’m still pissed and if it comes out sarcastically—good.
“No. Really.” He starts to move closer.
“No. Stop right there. You can’t get any closer.”
He nods. “Claire is really pissed at me. She thinks I messed up big-time and I did. Mom and Dad too.”
“You told them about us?”
“Ev, this feels like I’m losing something, someone.”
“Well, you are. Maybe you already have.”
“Paaaaaaaaannnooooooooos!”
Fucking Jeremy. He either has the world’s best timing or the worst. In this moment I can’t tell which. I hear the sound of bike tires rushing on the rocky pavement.
“Kimbaaaaaall!”
Jeremy swooshes past me so fast I almost get knocked to the ground by the sheer force of his speed. He punches his brakes and skids, for what seems like forever, until stopping and then whipping around to look at me, then Henry. He’s about fifty yards ahead of where we’re standing. I’m still trying to figure out if I’m completely annoyed with Jeremy right now for interrupting, or maybe relieved.
I yell, “What the hell are you doing? You almost ran right into us!”
He starts pedaling back toward me at a normal speed and waves at us. Even from this distance, I can see his big, dumb grin. I’m shaking my head and giving him one of those ridiculous looks that instantly make me seem like his disapproving father, not his friend. At times, I do feel like I’m an old man trapped in this teenager’s body.
Jeremy’s next to us. “Panos!” He looks over my shoulder. “Mr. Kimball.” He feigns some sort of bow. “You coming from work, Panos, or are you two on a romantic afternoon stroll?” If only he understood the irony of his words.
I say, “What are you up to, besides trying to run over people?”
He gets off his bike. “Just out for a ride. I was bored. You’ve been working a lot lately.” He looks over at Henry again. Henry attempts a smile, but it does very little to hide his unhappy eyes. “Seriously, what are you doing here, Kimball? Slumming with the working class?”
“Nothing. Just ran into Evan on my way—”
“Fuck.” Jeremy makes a scrunched-up face.
“What?”
“Damn, Panos, you smell like ham.” He exhales hard.
I breathe in hard. “I don’t smell it.”
“Congratulations, Panos, you’ve turned into even more of an antisocial animal. The smell isn’t going to help.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Kimball here keeps asking about you. You’re avoiding him at school, but I told him that he shouldn’t feel that special ’cause you’re avoiding everyone.” He scrunches his face again. “Dude! Do you rub the ham on you? You smell like shit. Ham shit.”
Henry is shifting a little as he stands there. Now he’s rubbing his neck and staring at the ground. I’m almost starting to feel bad for him. Almost.
“It’s probably all the cheeses as well. I rub those on me too.” I move closer toward Jeremy. “Here, you want a better whiff?”
He steps back so fast he almost falls. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He shakes his head, looks over at Henry, then peers back at me before changing the subject in superfast Jeremy time. “You know I think Kimball here—whatever.” Jeremy turns back to Henry. “It’s no secret we’ve never been close. But it’s not like we hate each other.”
Henry doesn’t say anything.
Jeremy’s back to me. “What’s wrong, did you guys have a lovers’ quarrel? Did you upset your boyfriend?” Jeremy says in a high girl’s voice.
“You’re not funny. You’re a moron.”
“You know what?” Henry walks closer, over to me. He’s a few inches from my face. “I want us to be friends again. Like before.” He stares right at me as if we’re alone. What does he mean, Like before? Before he made out with Ali? Before I let him in? Just pals? “I’m late. Ev, I’d like to talk.” He glances at Jeremy. Actually stares at him like he’s trying to make him disappear. When he doesn’t, Henry sighs. “Later, Ev?”
“Later.”
Jeremy is silent. Mouth open.
Henry turns around and gets in his car. And drives away.
I try to break the awkward silence. “Jeremy, I didn’t mean it.”
He snaps back to being himself. “Good. Talking later is good. You crazy kids can work it out. Oh, and Tess. Is. Fucking. Over.” Jeremy is emphatically making an X with his hands. “Fucking. Over!”
I don’t always appreciate how self-centered Jeremy can be, but in moments like these . . . it comes in handy.
“Over how?” Jeremy and I start walking.
“I guess you can’t call it over since it never really started, but she apparently is into someone else. Whatever. Just basic shit.” He throws these words away like they mean nothing. “So what’s the deal? Are you gonna be a working man from now on?”
“I can use the money.” I see the 7-Eleven. We’re getting closer.
“You know I was kidding about Kimball being your boyfriend, right?”
And we’re back. “Yeah.”
“’Cause there’s a rumor going around school that he’s gay. Now, I don’t believe it, ’cause that dude has some serious skills with the ladies and I know he was banging Amanda, and Ali was . . .” He lowers his voice and stops walking his bike. “Pubes, the only reason I bring this up is because the rumor is that he’s gay and that he’s gay for you.”
Oh fuck. I feel like the wind just got knocked out of me.
“Where did you . . .”
“Tommy. Oh, and Ali said that she caught you guys in her parents’ bathroom. She thought you were making moves on—”
“This is crazy.” I try to remain casual.
“That’s what I said. If you were gay, I’d know. We’ve been friends forever, and man, if you were into dudes, you would have made a move on this”—he motions to his whole body with his right hand—“pure hunk of ham sandwich.”
“You think if I was gay I’d be into you?”
“Simple math. You’d be gay plus I’m this guy equals of course.”
“Gay guys aren’t attracted to every man they see.”
“You couldn’t resist. Don’t worry about it. I shut that shit down.” Jeremy’s totally oblivious.
I shake my head and say, “I’m going to the 7-Eleven to get a drumstick. Want one?”
“All your cash burning a hole in your pocket?”
“Want one or not?”
“Nah thanks, I have to go ’cause my parents are taking us out for dinner and I have to take a shower.” He gets back on his bike and pauses. “Were you and Henry in the bathroom alone?”
“We were looking for a Band-Aid for my head.”
“Of course. That makes sense. You’re a walking accident.” He starts to ride off. “See you tomorrow.”