Tuesday afternoon came around. We had planned on meeting up for lunch at Rosita’s. They have the best tacos on the island. The place was beat up. It looked like it was constructed entirely of driftwood and old metal signs. I ordered the Key West Amber. The barkeep wore peach shorts and a denim shirt buttoned low over a nice, tight tank.
“I’ll have a water, no lemon please.” The sound of her voice broke the love spell.
“Sorry, I was…uh…”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“How are you?”
“I’m good. It has been a rough start to the week, but it’s early and we’ll rebound.”
“I love that about you.”
“How you always find hope in the situation.”
“What’s the alternative?”
“No, I get it. I just don’t naturally see it.”
“Are you guys ready?” The barkeep asked.
“I’m going to have the taco plate.” Alice’s voice was overly cheery, bordering on patronizing.
“Make that two, please.” I resisted looking at the barkeep, instead keeping my eyes on the menu. I folded it, handing it to her without ever looking up. I’m sure it was awkward for everyone.
“What’s your name, dear?” Alice asked the barkeep.
“Oh, of course it is. ”