The Magic of Salt Water (LGBT, wlw)

Pizza Shop

     Ah, man, I love fine Italian cuisine -- that is, if you consider boardwalk pizza to be fine Italian cuisine. I do, at least.

     I don't get out much.

     I was able to easily convince my aunt to let me go. With Iris standing right behind me, I told Lil that I wanted to go. She took a look at Iris, winked at me, and told me to have fun.

     She knew what I was up to.

     Iris took me into the restaurant. She obviously knew what she was doing. I followed blindly, on the opposite side of that spectrum.

     The restaurant was colored with mostly reds and browns that were illuminated in a kind of dim, yellowish light. There were a few shades of green here and there, and a disturbing painting of a tomato with a realistic human face. The restaurant itself was called something like Pizano's or Famiglias or Figlio's or something to that nature.

     Iris chose a booth in a corner. The table was beneath a suspended television that had a game of... baseball maybe? I don't really watch sports. I was never a fan. I used to play soccer. That was until this girl named Anne kicked me in the head with her cleats. Given, we were in a pile after someone slipped on the ball, then everyone fell over that one person.

     It was a pile of screaming ten year olds.

     We sat on opposite sides of the table. I was the lucky introvert who got the beach against the wall. A waitress came to our table with a smile plastered on her tired face.

     "Hello ladies, I'm Julie, and I will be your server today," she set down two menus. "Can I start you off with drinks?" she asked as she whipped a small receipt pad from her black apron-belt thing.

     "I'll take whatever Cola you have," Iris said. Julie scribbled down the order so far, then looked to me. I, of course, being the awkward weirdo that I am, chuckled nervously.

     "I'll take the same thing," I said. Julie smiled, then tucked the pad back into a pocket on that waitress apron.

     "I'll be right back with your drinks in a minute," she said. She turned, and walked toward another table.  

     "So, Jamie," Iris started.

     "Wait. Why is that tomato painting real?" I asked. She turned and looked at it on the wall behind her.

     "Yeah... I always ask myself that too. Do you paint?" Iris asked.

     "Uh... I try to paint. I try to draw, too. Keyword: try," I said. Iris laughed.

     "Hey, I get it," she said. "Now that it's summer, you'll have time to change trying to working, right?" I laughed with her. "Man, I love summer. What about you?"

     I paused. I hated school, especially the people. Oh, the people. There were mean people, popular people, athletes, mean popular kids, popular athletes, mean athletes, nerds, mean nerds, emos -- you name it, my high school had it.

     The normal high school trope or cliché is the mean athlete or the mean popular kid... but I will admit I've met some nice kids. One of my best friends, actually, plays field hockey. Jared. He's cooler than me. I also like going to his games. It's not as killer as watching ice hockey, but sometimes he and I judge the other teams afterwards. He's really good at insulting people for their terrible gameplay while simultaneously combining several curse words to create a masterful poem.

     I should write it down sometime.

     I also have a friend named Lily, who is both popular, and an athlete. If I remember correctly, she plays Autumn soccer, and Spring softball. I never remember what she plays -- all I know is that she's never home to hang out. The only time she and I can hang out is over the summer.

     I get a break from annoying people, and hang out with the few friends I have, and go visit my aunt at the beach.

     "Yeah. I guess summer is pretty cool," I answered.

     Nailed it.

     Julie came back with our drinks, and set down straws.

     "What will you have to eat today, ladies?" she asked as she pulled out her notepad again.

     I forgot to look at the menu. Crud. Thanks Jared and weird tomato painting.

     "I'll take two slices of pepperoni pizza, please," said Iris, handing her menu back to Julie.

     "Alrighty, and you?"

     "Uh... just two slices of plain, please, thanks," I said all too quickly before handing her the menu. She finished writing, took it, and smiled at us.

     "Alright, I'll bring that for you as soon as I can; thank you ladies," she said before leaving.

     "We forgot to--"

     "We forgot to look at the menu," I finished. She nodded with a smile.

     The pizza came out within ten minutes of us ordering. Iris and I chatted all the while. We talked about our siblings, and about dogs, and the weather, and politics (which we happen to agree), and the weather, and science, and practically everything. We actually stayed for about an hour after we finished eating just to talk.

     Pizza, Jared, and Lily may be my best friends, but they better watch out. Iris is growing on me.

     The sun was growing close to the horizon before Iris and I left the restaurant. We walked down the boardwalk slowly. We were going back to my aunt, but not rushing.

     "Are you going to come back tomorrow?" Iris asked as she looked to the rough, dried wood of the boardwalk.

     "I hope so," I said. I actually surprised myself with that one: wanting to go to the beach. "I don't have my phone with me, it's back far, far away with my parents. I can't bring it to the cabin with my aunt. I can give you my phone number."

     She beamed.

     "We need a marker or pen," she said. She and I looked around ourselves for anyone that could lend us anything. Iris spotted a caricature artist, and ran up to her. "Hey," she said to the artist, "do you have a pen I can borrow for a second?"

     "Sure," the artist with blue dyed hair said as she handed Iris a sharpie. Iris took my arm, wrote her number quickly, then handed the marker to me. I did the same. I gave the artist her marker back.

     Iris and I ran down the walk, laughing all the while.

     I said my goodbyes, and she said hers. Aunt Lil, Trish, and I got in the car. Grease started back up. This time, I didn't scowl.

     "How was your time, Jamie?" Lil asked with a smile. I sighed, and rested my cheek on my hand. The moon was rising, and the stars were out.

     "Good," I answered. "Can we go back tomorrow?"

     Lil and Trish looked to each other with wide eyes.

     Uh-oh su-ummer nights.