Page 88 of Gone Tonight
I scan my surroundings as I follow her to a booth. Bread loaf pans filled with the restaurant’s signature dish are atop trivets on many of the tables. I watch as a waiter eases out squares with a flat spatula, serving them to the couple at his table, and think of the many times my mother has done the same for me.
The hostess walks me across the restaurant to a tiny booth in the back, and I choose the side that affords me the best view of the otherdiners. Directly behind me is the kitchen, where I can hear the clanking of dishes and loud voices behind the closed swinging door.
Instead of studying my menu, I pull out my phone.
The call I missed was from Ethan. He didn’t leave a message. Perhaps he’s already drinking and wanted company tonight. I flick away the notice of his call from my screen, then navigate to my photos. I search through them until I find a recent one of my mother. It isn’t a great shot—someone took it of us at my college graduation, and she’s wearing her big sunglasses—so I keep looking.
I scroll through an entire year’s worth of photos, then work my way even further back. I can’t believe I never noticed it before. I only have about two dozen pictures of my mom on my phone. In every one, she’s either wearing her oversized rectangular sunglasses or turning away from the camera so it isn’t a clear shot of her face.
It can’t be a coincidence.
I return to the picture of us at my college graduation, enlarging it on my screen so only she shows.
My waiter approaches, a guy of about thirty. I tell him I’d like a Coke and I ask for his recommendation for my entrée.
“You’ve got to try the lasagna pizza,” he says. “The smallest size serves two, but I can pack up your leftovers.”
I tell him that sounds perfect. He starts to turn away, but when I say, “Can I ask you something?” he spins back around.
My waiter looks too young to be of any help, but it’s possible he’s older than I think. I have to try.
“This might sound a little weird, but I’m trying to find a woman who used to come here all the time.” I slide my phone toward him, pointing to the screen.
He looks down and frowns. “Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her. Hard to tell with the sunglasses.”
“Yeah, it was years and years ago.… Is there anyone else I could talk to who has worked here for a really long time?”
“Um, my manager has been here forever. I could ask him?”
“That would be great.”
The waiter hurries off, returning a few minutes later with a Coke in a tall glass. He places it in front of me and tells me the manager will be over soon.
I already feel like I’m buzzing with energy and nerves, so I don’t need the sugar and caffeine, but I swallow half of my beverage in one long gulp anyway. It’s impossible to keep my hands still. I pull a napkin out of the holder on top of my table and begin to shred it into strips, then I roll each one up into a little ball.
I’m about to start on my second napkin when a man approaches my table. He’s a genial-looking guy with silver-rimmed glasses and close-cropped graying hair, and his name tag identifies him as the manager.
“Hi, I’m Rich. Is there something I can help you with?”
I nod eagerly, my throat growing dry despite all the liquid I just swallowed.
“I’d really appreciate it. I’m trying to find someone who used to come here often. A young woman. It was a long time ago, though.”
“How long?”
“Almost twenty-five years ago. She would have been in high school then.”
His smile slides away. “What’s her name?”
“It begins with an A…” I start to push the phone closer to him, but he doesn’t look at it. His brow furrows.
When he doesn’t immediately speak, my nerves take over and I start to babble. “She didn’t work here but she came in here a lot. She had really long hair back then.… She may have been on the Poms squad at her high school.”
The manager no longer appears angry. He’s furious now.
“Almost twenty-five years ago?” His eyes narrow as he bites off each word. “And you’re trying to find her now. Is this a joke?”
I shake my head. “What? No!”
