She looks bummed.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s wishing he was with you rather than his smelly teammates,” I reassure her. I wonder sometimes what it’s like being Charlotte. She’s got the perfect life. Lots of money, a devoted boyfriend, and plenty of free time. She doesn’t toss and turn in her bed worrying about her bills. She doesn’t have to scramble around trying to find a sitter for her daughter. She doesn’t sit in her bathroom with the shower on full blast so she can have a good cry in peace. I wiggle my toes in my black sneakers. It’d be sweet to walk a mile in her designer shoes.
“Eh. He can stay out all night with them. I need the space.” She picks up her drink and knocks it back with alarming speed. “Get me a shot, would you?”
My eyes widen. In the two months I’ve been serving her, she’s never asked for hard liquor. “Um, what’s the occasion?”
“Do I need one?” she snaps and then immediately slaps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”
Wait. Suddenly, I realize what’s going on. I feel dumb for not having put two and two together. Nick suddenly left. Charlie’s sitting here alone and drinking shots. Her man must be cheating on her. God, why did I think he was one of the good ones? Because he left me nice tips and always asked about my daughter? Am I a fool or what? Don’t answer that question.
“Crap, honey, I’m sorry. I’d suggest we egg his house, but you two live together. I’m down for helping you burn his stuff though.”
“What?” She blinks at me like an owl.
“Nick. I’ll help you burn Nick’s stuff,” I repeat.
“Why would I want to burn Nick’s stuff?”
“Because he’s off at his ‘meeting.” I put the word in scare quotes so she’ll know that I know that he’s stepping out on her.
“Why are you using finger quotes?”
Is she obtuse? Or does she not want to know? I don’t know, but I guess I should let it go. I’m just a waitress and not her friend, despite what she says. Still…I can’t help but give her the teeniest bit of advice.
“Football players might seem cool, but they’re really trash,” I tell her. “There are better men out there. You’re so pretty and decent, Charlie, you could have anyone you want.”
She blinks again, and then her eyes widen. “Oh. Oh! You think Nick is cheating on me!”
“I mean…if the shoe fits and all,” I reply softly. When her lips start quivering, a pang of self-doubt pings at the base of my neck. I don’t want to make her cry so I add, “But maybe I’m wrong. Teams have meetings.”
Laughter, rather than tears, spills out of her. “Oh my goodness, no. Nick is like my brother. We grew up together. He really is at a meeting with the other quarterbacks tonight. They’re having dinner at Peters’ place. And even if he was meeting a woman, I’d be okay with it.”
It’s hard for me to tell whether she’s saying this because she believes it or those are the lies she tells herself to keep her heart intact. Sympathy has me sliding into the chair that Nick’s abandoned. “Charlie, I’m not lying when I tell you that you are one of the best people I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet.”
She props an elbow on the table and rests her head on the palm of her hand. “And you’re one of the best people I’ve met. What are you doing this weekend?”
The question catches me off-guard. “Going to the park.”
“Can I come with?”
Of all the things I thought she was going to ask me, this wasn’t it.
“I’m serious,” she says.
I fiddle with my ponytail. “I guess, but it’s pretty boring. Cass likes to chase the ducks around and I push her in the swing for about a half an hour until my arms give out. We eat peanut butter sandwiches at lunch, and then I have to come here for the night shift.”
“That sounds amazing.”
I search her face for any traces of mockery but find none.
“I told you before. I’m lonely,” she confesses. “I don’t really get along with the other wives because, well, I’m not a wife and they keep wanting to treat me like one. They’ve got all these charity events, but it’s not about the charity, it’s about one-upping each other. I’m not about that life. The nice ones are more involved with their families. I have a hard time making friends because I can’t figure out who wants to use me for my money versus who wants to use me to get access to Nick. I was serious about wanting to be friends, but real friends do stuff together so…please?” She bats her eyelashes at me.