Page 11 of The Art of Loving Ellie
A shadow seemingly moves over his eyes and surprisingly, I see what resembles resentment. Is he holding contempt towards my mother, for me? He reaches out his hand and rubs his thumb over the soft spot of mine, and I’m caught off guard when he says, “It’s not fair that she did that to you.”
To me?For a moment, I’m completely speechless. I’ve never looked at her sickness in that way, as I’ve always felt that I was the reason for her problems; that I was the one who needed to be sorry. No one has ever verbalized to me that her alcoholism could be no one’s fault but her own. I feel naïve.
The conversation is taking a serious turn, so I squeeze his hand gently and abruptly release it when I notice an older man bee-lining our way. Tyler’s face lights with emotion at the sight of a large, round man who is losing a little bit of his dark brown hair. I can tell he was probably a looker back in his prime, and he radiates warmth as his eyes take in the two of us.
“Tyler, my boy!” I take note that he’s wearing a chef’s uniform as he holds his arms out for Tyler, who stands up from the table, and embraces the man in a tight hug.
“Hey, Uncle Troy. This is my date, Ellie Clark.” He gestures to where I’m sitting.
I stand and try to shake his hand, but he envelopes me in an equally large hug. His embrace is tight as he slaps me on the back. “Oh, you sly dog. She’s a beauty!” He gives me a crooked smile, and I smile sheepishly back at him, a little confused and a lot amused by their apparent closeness.
“Thank you.” I grin at his boisterous personality, surprised yet again by the man in front of me, and think to myself that maybe I wasn’t so right about the straight laces after all.
“Now listen, everything’s on the house tonight. And if this boy isn’t treating you like the goddess you are this evening you come tell Uncle Troy, and I’ll have my guys take ‘em out back and whack ‘em.” His New York accent is thick, and I find myself wanting to know more about Uncle Troy.
He has laughter in his eyes as he pats Tyler on the back. “You kids have a good evenin’. I’ll see you soon, son.”
With a parting wink, he walks off toward the back of the restaurant and I turn back to Tyler with surprise covering my face. “Wow, he seems so nice.”
“Yeah, the loud goofiness runs in the family. We’re all probably a little too close for comfort, but I don’t know what I would do without them.” I let that statement sit between us for a moment; we couldn’t be more different in that respect.
Tyler grins ear to ear and from where we’re sitting, we have just enough view of the kitchen to see his uncle spank a waitress with a wooden spoon. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. She’s unfazed by his action as she chucks a wadded up towel at him, and he makes his way toward the back.
By the time we get our meals, Tyler’s demeanor has changed from relaxed and cool, to downright fidgety, and I watch our waters lightly shaking on the table.
I lean over, giving a pointed look to his lower half. “You got ants in your pants over there?” I tease him, and he immediately stops bouncing his knee, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.
He breathes out a shaky breath and smiles. “Just thinking about where we’re going after this, and hoping you’re as into it as I want you to be.”
I pause mid-drink and lean over to whisper, “Oh, god. You're not taking me to some crazy sex club or something, are you?”
His face is covered with shock until he bursts out a deep laugh; one that makes me feel all tingly everywhere. “Don’t worry, what we are going to do is just the right amount of crazy.” He gives me a wink, and my insides melt a little.
My brain is screaming at me that this is a bad idea, but I’m intrigued. Tyler is the first person besides Alex that I have been able to relax and be myself around, and I’m finding that I like this feeling more than I probably should.
We finish our meal and head outside for whatever adventure Tyler plans to take us on tonight. I’m soaking up the warm buzz of energy from this handsome man beside me, and our arms are intertwined again. I allow myself to lean into his side because it feels nice, and he smells great, and for the first time in my life, I oddly feel like everything is going to be okay.
It’s a cold November night and I’m thankful that I grabbed my coat before I left my apartment. I pull it closer around me as we continue to walk in the opposite direction of where the car is parked. The lights of the city sparkle around us.
“Um, the car is that way?” I say, hooking my thumb backward.
“I’m aware,” is the only answer I get, besides his knowing smile.
We fall into an easy stride as we walk through the streets toward our unknown destination, and I’m relieved that he isn’t a small-talker. Instead, he asks me deep, meaningful questions like—what are my favorite nineties movies, and where do I see myself in ten years?
I have to think about my responses for a few moments before I answer him back, “Well, it’s a toss betweenHappy Gilmoreand50 First Dates,though I will say the nineties blessed us with many great movies.”
He puts his hands together like he is saying a prayer. “Adam Sandler—one of the greats. I’m pretty sure50 first dateswas filmed in ’04—but I’m willing to give you a pass since the nineties bled into the early two-thousands quite a bit.” He nudges me playfully.
My laugh creates a little puff of white air between us as I contemplate my answer to his other question. “Let’s see, ten years from now I want to be… happy.”
My statement catches him off-guard, and he looks at me bewildered as if it’s impossible for someone like me to not already have found happiness. “And you’re not happy where you are now?”
I shrug, looking at the path in front of us, noticing that we’re approaching Central Park. “Let’s just say, it’s complicated.”
His deep chuckle makes my belly flutter. “Ah. The ever famous ‘it’s complicated’.”
“Ha-Ha,” I mock him, “trust me. It’s not worth getting into.”
