Page 22 of The Boardroom: Kirk
Kirk took my hand and my heart leaped at the contact. We turned down a series of streets in one of Seattle’s nicest districts, passing by five-star restaurants and stores that sold purses the price of tuition for a semester at my college, their mannequins challenging me with their bizarre, giraffe-like elegance. A small, insecure part of me was panicking, terrified that Kirk would bring me to a restaurant where I would have no idea how to pronounce a thing on the menu.
Surprisingly though, we turned a corner to find a small, hidden street, one that looked out of place among the skyscrapers looming nearby. Small shops were hidden among trees struggling to survive on the city sidewalks, and pigeons crowded in corners, pecking for crumbs. I turned to Kirk, and he smiled.
“I’m taking you to my favorite place in the whole city,” he said, squeezing my hand, and he led me towards the end of the street, to a small place hidden in a corner covered by a weathered green awning spelling outTIM’Sin white letters that were peeling off. It looked like an old-fashioned Italian restaurant, but I wasn’t quite sure.
“Huh,” I said, studying the place. “This is…”
“I know it doesn’t look like much,” Kirk said, holding the door for me and taking my coat as we went inside. “But it belongs to an old friend of my dad’s, and I promise you it’s like nowhere else you’ve ever been.”
“Your dad’s friend…Tim?”
Kirk laughed. “Not the best restaurant name, I know, but just trust me on this.”
I shrugged and followed Kirk inside to find a place that looked like a strange combination of a very nerdy teenager’s bedroom, a movie theatre, and a restaurant. The walls were covered in movie posters, action figures, and memorabilia, but most of them were behind glass in display cases, not hung around haphazardly to cover the walls like in some restaurants. A large movie screen with an old-fashioned projector sat in the corner, playing an old Hedy Lamarr film, and a dozen or so small tables filled the interior, which was about as big as your average Seattle frozen yogurt joint. It was charming, bizarre, and exactly the kind of unpredictable and unforgettable place where Kirk Atkins would take a girl.
“Is this okay?” Kirk asked, taking in my wide eyes.
I laughed. “I kind of love it.”
“I thought you would.”
“Kirk!” comes a voice from the kitchen in the back, and a tall Asian man wearing a t-shirt and a tie with Super Mario Brothers style mushrooms and stars runs up to Kirk, and they hug and laugh like old friends.
“Tim,” Kirk says, “This is my girlfriend, Marissa Hayes.”
“Lovely to meet you,” Tim says, shaking my hand enthusiastically. He radiates energy, almost like a kid, and I wonder if he’s found the secret to happiness—surrounding himself with fun at work every day in a place like this. “Sit down, please.”
We get a table near the back, where we can still see the movie screen but the sound is low enough that we can hear each other comfortably. Tim comes up to us with menus, and he’s beaming at the two of us with pride.
“Kirk’s the best guy I know,” Tim said. “You hold onto him, okay? I’ve known him since before he could walk, and he’s good inside and out.”
“I know,” I say, smiling at Kirk. “He really is.”
“You must be a special girl if Kirk likes you,” Tim said. “He’s notoriously picky.”
Kirk laughed. “Not so much picky as unlucky in love,” he said, and looked down at the floor.
“Well not anymore!” Tim said, laughing, and left us to look at the menus.
“He seems like a cool guy,” I said.
“Yeah,” Kirk said. “My dad was sick for a while when I was growing up, and my Mom had to work all the time, so he would step in to take me to basketball practice and stuff. He’s kind of like an uncle to me.”
“That’s awesome,” I said, touched that Kirk would take me to a place that was obviously very special to him. “And was he the one who got you into…I motioned at a large hanging Death Star positioned in front of an old Batman poster — “all this?”
Kirk laughed. “Yes. That would be my origin story.”
I looked down at the menu and found I couldn’t pin down the food as any particular type…it seemed to just serve whatever Tim felt like serving that week, and all of the food items were embellished with pop-culture themed names. There was everything from breakfast food to sushi to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I was instantly charmed.
“On the house,” Tim said, and placed a bottle of red wine on the table. We thanked him and placed our order—the Wonder Woman Waffle Platter for Kirk and the Ghostbusters Gnocchi for me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so happy, or so at home. Here I was with a gorgeous guy, on a first date, and I was genuinely having an amazingly fun and surprisingly relaxed time. I took out my phone and took a picture of us settled at the table, surrounded by the old movie posters and knickknacks.
Our food came and was insanely delicious, and we settled in to watch the movie as we ate. I was falling in love with this restaurant already. Watching the black and white flicker of a 1940’s film in the background somehow made the whole date feel even more romantic. My skirt felt fuller as I moved, my lipstick felt darker…I felt like I could dance across the room and then swoon into Kirk’s arms.
The movie faded off the screen and Kirk and I have finished our food, but we stay, Tim occasionally giving us a smile from the kitchen in the back. We make our way through the bottle of wine as the rest of the patrons make their way home, and we talk like we haven’t since we young. We catch up on the stories we’d missed, reminiscing about the past…only the good parts.
“Remember our first date?” I ask Kirk. “Ourotherfirst date?”
We laugh together, remembering our adolescent awkwardness. “I wasn’t nearly as smooth back then,” he says, and I smile, remembering how sweet Kirk was in those days…and how sweet he still was now.
We’re both surprised when Tim hands Kirk the keys and instructs him to lock up when we’re done…it’s already midnight, and we didn’t even notice.
“You kids have fun,” Tim says, wishing us goodnight as he tries to close a jammed drawer. He hits it again with his knee and it slams shut. “Second time’s the charm, I guess,” he says, and makes his way out.
“I guess it is,” Kirk says, and we smile.
