“Let’s all welcome, August Cahill,” the emcee yells.
Each step I take makes it feel like a knife is twisting in my heart. As soon as I’m on stage, my eyes lock with Maddy’s. She looks confused but I can’t let that bother me, not right now.
“August, we’re so happy to have you this year.”
“Thanks, I’m happy to be here,” I say into the microphone.
“Fuck you, dude,” I hear someone yell. Yep, that’s my life.
I look for Maddy, but she’s not where I left her.
“And who is our winner?”
“Um…” I say as I scan the crowd, looking for Madeline. “It’s Potter’s.” As soon as I announce the winner, I bolt off stage and reenter the crowd heading to Maddy’s table. When I get there, she’s not there.
“Where did Maddy go?” I ask them, but they ignore me.
“You should leave,” her sous chef says. “And don’t come back.”
I don’t pay them any mind and pull my phone out of my pocket and dial her number. Right to voicemail. “Maddy, please let me explain,” I say into the receiver. I hang up and send the same text, hoping she will at least give me a chance to defend myself.
Another night, another restaurant.
It’s rare that I’ll venture into a restaurant that hasn’t been open for longer than two years. I feel that after my own predetermined time, restaurants have worked their kinks out and are functioning at their best.
I made an exception when I visited Maddy’s Tavern. I had heard good things about this establishment and wanted to check it out for myself even though its barely over a year old.
I was greeted with professionalism as soon as I walked in and shown to my seat. My young waiter introduced himself and told me the day’s specials, from memory which is very impressive. He also told me he was studying to be a bartender and brought me an array of drinks he felt would go well with my dessert.
As I waited, I noticed how impeccable the restaurant was. Everything had a place. The tables weren’t crowded with unnecessary items. Each chair was pushed in. The staff all dressed as if they were working at the Plaza.
I had the special, which if offered again, you should order; the balsamic pork chop with the orange creamsicle cake for dessert. My reservation was late, and I fully expected a dry piece of pork. To say I was surprised by the tender juicy meat would be an understatement.
Now comes the time when I must give Maddy’s Tavern my grades.
Ambience – A+
Staff – A+
Food – A+
When you go in, and I know you will, be sure to tell chef and owner Madeline Metcalf that August Cahill highly recommends her place. You won’t be sorry.
Signing off for now,
AC
7
Madeline
I was sick with nerves before the pulled pork contest, but right now, I’m literally sick with anger. How could Adam do this? Adam is August. August is Adam. Why would he keep that secret from me? I feel like such an idiot.
My phone rings incessantly, but I can’t go back to my booth. The only place to go is home. I call Katy and she picks up on the first ring.
“Oh my God, Maddy, are you okay?”
Tears stream down my face. “No. I don’t know what’s going on. I think I’m in shock. Did I really just see Adam go on stage as August Cahill?”
I can feel the weight of her sigh through the phone. “You did. It was a shock to us all. When he came back to our booth, Noah made him leave. I’m sure he’s out trying to find you.”
So many people are staring at me as I rush past them. “Will you be okay if I don’t come back there? I don’t want to see him.”
“Maddy, it’s okay. Go home. The others and I will be there as soon as we can. Don’t worry about a thing.”
“Thanks, Katy.” I hang up and bolt out onto the street and as far away from the event as I can get. The restaurant is only a few blocks away. My phone rings again and again, over and over. Every time I see Adam’s name pop up, it makes me cry even more.
When I get home, I breathe a sigh of relief. Adam isn’t here. Luckily, I had a head start. I lock the restaurant doors and rush upstairs to my apartment. As soon as I walk inside, I can smell his cologne. Memories of last night flood through my mind. I don’t know what to think anymore. I love him, but I’m starting to think I don’t even know who he is.
My phone rings again and I shut it off. The second I sit on my couch, I close my eyes. My body feels like lead, too heavy to move. More tears come and I don’t even bother to wipe them away. The silence is deafening, at least, until a loud knock sounds on the door. I open my eyes and it’s dark outside. When I look at the clock, five hours have passed by.