The Waiter Bradleigh Collins (autobiographies to read TXT) 📖

market and drink grape juice and eat mozzareppas for the rest of my life.”

“You’re adorable,” he said. I handed him one of the mozzareppas and we continued to explore the market. He told me he grew up in Brooklyn and was from a large Italian family. His father was a doctor. His mom a history teacher. He was in the process of getting his MBA at Columbia. That’s why he was working at Pomodoro. The schedule was flexible and the money was great.

“Basically, I go to work, to school, and to the gym. That’s my life.”

“Where do you live?”

“The Ansonia. Broadway and 74th.”

“Do you have to work today?”

“Yea, but not until three. I wanna get to the gym around one and get a workout in, but I’ve got a couple of hours. What are your plans?”

“I’m meeting Josh later for lunch and then off to the airport.”

“Wanna go for a walk with me?”

“Sure. I just wanna pick up some of those soaps on the way out.”

I purchased four bars of mint soap as we were leaving. Then we walked over to Central Park. We took the exact same path that Josh and I had the day before.

“The scene of the crime,” I said, as we passed the spot where I first saw him.

“It’s my favorite place in the park,” he said. “It’s so peaceful.”

“Aside from the tacky tourists leering at you?”

“I was leering back.”

“Seriously?”

“I noticed your red hair. And then your legs. I assumed Josh was your boyfriend. I’m glad he wasn’t. He’s a funny guy.”

“I adore him. We’ve always been really close.”

We walked over to a nearby bench and sat down. I told him how Josh ended up in New York and how he’d been trying to get me to move here. The Waiter told me about growing up in Brooklyn with three brothers and one sister and how his five-hundred square foot studio now felt like a mansion because he had it all to himself.

The two of us sat there on the bench talking for what seemed like forever. Then my phone rang. I felt a familiar panic and assumed it was Dalton. That he somehow sensed I was happy at this very moment and felt the need to fuck it up. I pulled the phone out of my backpack and was relieved to see it was Josh.

“How’s it going with lover boy?”

“Fine,” I replied, hoping The Waiter didn’t hear him. “We’re in Central Park. What time do you wanna meet?”

“Half hour? At Big Nick’s?”

I looked down at my watch and realized it was half past noon. “Okay. See you there.” I hung up and looked at The Waiter.

“I’ll walk you back,” he said. “I need to catch the M7 bus at Amsterdam and head up to the gym.”

We got up and began walking out of the park.

“So, is there a boyfriend waiting for you back home?”

“God, no!”

He laughed. “You just said that like you have the plague or something. Like nobody would ever date you.”

“I did have the plague. I broke up with him.”

“Ouch,” he said as we walked up to Central Park West. The traffic light was about to change. He grabbed my hand. “Come on, we can make this light.”

We ran across the street just in time. When we reached the other side, I expected him to let go of my hand. He didn’t. We were just slowly strolling hand-in-hand past the Museum of Natural History. But not slow enough. I knew I only had two more blocks to enjoy that rare sensation of holding hands with someone you like for the first time. Especially someone you knew you wouldn’t see again for a long time.

“When will you find out about the job?” he asked as we crossed over Columbus.

“Within a couple of weeks I think.” We passed the entrance to the market. “Thanks for turning me on to the GreenFlea.”

“I love this place,” he said. “I’m here every Sunday.”

We continued walking until we got to Amsterdam, stopping right in front of Vermouth Lounge.

“Wait with me until the bus comes? If you can, I mean. The M7 takes forever.”

“Sure,” I replied. He was still holding my hand.

“I can’t believe I just met you and now you’re leaving me.” He leaned against the one-way signpost.

“I know. I still can’t get over the fact that you were our waiter last night. That’s crazy.”

“Yeah, what are the odds?” There was a nervous silence. Then he looked down at me. “God, you have the most amazing eyes.”

“Thank you.” I looked up at him.

He put his arms around my waist and pulled me in to him. Oh my god, he’s going to kiss me! He’s totally going to kiss me! And then he did. Right there on the corner, right underneath the crosswalk sign, he kissed me. His lips were full and soft and he tasted like grape juice. I could hear the children playing in the background. Then I heard the sound of the bus approaching.

“Fuck!” he screamed and threw his head back. “The one time I want the bus to be late it’s on time.”

He kissed my forehead. “I’ll call you this week, okay?” I nodded. Then he ran across the street toward the bus stop. He turned around and yelled at me. “Later Sammy with a ‘y’ like a guy!”

I laughed and waved. He smiled. Then he disappeared into the bus.

As I crossed over Amsterdam, I giggled. I actually giggled. I was still sad to be leaving New York, especially now, but I knew I’d be re-living this moment over and over until I saw him again.

And I was determined to see him again.

CHAPTER 6

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“Details,” Dana said as I got in the car. “I want every goddamn detail.”

I was back in Atlanta. Dana and I were leaving the airport en route to El Azteca, our favorite Mexican restaurant on Ponce, which just happened to be stumbling distance from my apartment.

“Dana, I swear, I felt like I was in a Norah Ephron movie. It was