Age Is But a Number

Charlotte had just switched cars and was now riding back home with Kevin, who was, at the moment, trying to distract her with a game that she introduced to him: Sweet and Sour. It was not working out too well; he could see how deep in thought she was and how obviously distressed she was. He couldn’t blame her, though. He might have been the same if he had been attacked by his drugged out, psychotic, homicidal father – which, thankfully, his father is not.

“Charlotte,” he said, and when she looked over at him he continued: “You want to . . . talk about it?”

She shook her head negatively and looked back out the window. He noticed how her gaze followed a fast food restaurant as they passed it.

“Are you hungry? You didn’t really eat breakfast,” he pointed out. “We could stop and eat.”

“Only if you’re hungry,” she murmured. And then her stomach growled loudly.

“All right, all right,” Kevin laughed, getting in the exit lane. “You don’t have to growl at me.” He peeked sideways to see her crack a smile. He felt happy that he made her smile; she needed to smile.

“What looks good?” he asked as they entered the town square. “Up ahead there’s a Red Lobster, Johnny Carino’s, Chili’s. . . .”

“There’s a Micky Dee’s coming up on your left,” she said, “that we can go to.” She watched the restaurant flew by her window. “And there it goes. . . .”

“We’re not in a hurry. I don’t mind going to an actual restaurant if you don’t mind.”

“It’s just . . . I heard those restaurants are kind of expensive. I don’t want you paying too much.”

“Don’t even worry about it, Charlie.” He sideways glanced at her, watching her reactions, her body language. “How does Red Lobster sound?” At that she looked up at the big sign that said there was a Red Lobster in this town square and slightly grinned.

“I’ve n. . . .,” she mumbled.

“Wha?” Kevin asked.

“I’ve never had lobster before,” she mumbled louder before she looked over at him. She noticed how shocked he looked and as he got onto the lane that would get them into the restaurant’s parking lot. “What’s with that look?”

“I’m just shocked at how you’ve never had lobster before,” he answered, pulling into the nearly packed parking lot. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“I do, kind of,” she replied. “A long time ago when Mom and Dad were in love, he would take her to Red Lobster almost every week.” He raised his eyebrow. “When he wasn’t a crack head.” Kevin nodded in understanding as he pushed the fancy button that turned off his fancy car. “They would bring home left over bread and a crab cakes and rice for me. No lobster because they ate that and would tell me how good it was, that they would take me there someday.”

“And they didn’t,” Kevin finished. “But now I’m taking you, and I promise you that it’s not going to be for the last time.” He noticed her smile as he unbuckled not only himself but her as well. “Just as long as you keep smiling at me like that.”

She immediately stopped smiling. “Like what?” she asked innocently and with a monotone voice and expression.

He chuckled as he opened the door. “Nice try.”

.:-:.

Together they walked into the restaurant and Charlotte noticed, as the waiter at the podium near the door took in their reservation, a few people staring at her. She stared back with furrowed eyebrows and wondered why they were looking at her and wondering if she was imagining their stairs because she felt so paranoid. Then she remembered who she was with and realized a lot of the people staring were young girls or young females in college or older. She looked over at Kevin who smiled at her, completely oblivious at the extremely pretty, blonde, full-lipped, long-legged girl staring at him and smiling from across the room.

Charlotte started to question why Kevin liked her (like she has been since she’s met him, basically), with her lack of curves, baby-face, unevenly proportioned lip shape (her top lip was fuller than her bottom), and definitely not long legs.

And yet he still looked at her in a way that screamed how much he really liked her and she couldn’t control the churning, somersaulting stomach and reddening cheeks.

While waiting for a table Charlotte stared at the tank full of live lobsters in horror. She was even more horrified that customers had the option of choosing their lobster and she wanted so badly to save them.

“It’s fine, Charlie,” Kevin chuckled, never realizing how sensitive she was about the lobster-choosing. “They just get to take a dip in the Jacuzzi when they get pulled out.”

“Not funny,” she said, watching in disgust and shock as a cook came out from the kitchen, plucked a lobster from the tank, and carried it off. “Not Geraldo!”

Kevin was not surprised that she had named a lobster. “Geraldo is going to a better place,” he said. He tried to hide his smile. “Someone’s dinner plate.”

She smacked his arm. “Well, as long as they don’t take Terrence, Erin, or Henrietta I’m okay.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “What if the lobster we get is Helga?!”

“Which one’s Helga?”

“The big one,” Charlotte said, pointing at one of the biggest lobsters in the tank with giant, menacing claws and a missing leg. “I thought Helga was a good name for her.”

“What if it’s a dude?”

“Helgo,” she said.

Kevin just laughed, watching as the chef came out again and grabbed Helga – or Helgo – from the tank and held Charlotte back from chasing after her newly named lobster. He knew he was going to get smacked for not only holding her back but for touching her, and she smacked him right on the forearm.
-~-
They were seated near the kitchen entrance and every time it opened a wonderful, buttery smell wafted through to her face. Her mouth began to water and she nearly attacked the bread bowl when it appeared on the table.

“I should have fed you earlier,” Kevin chuckled when she finished a bread stick faster than he expected.

She stopped reaching halfway for another breadstick and looked down before swallowing. “Sorry, that was very pig-ish of me.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, then grabbed a bread stick. “I think it’s cute.”

She couldn’t stop herself from snapping, “Don’t do that.”

“What?” Kevin asked innocently, mocking her slightly, mouth full of bread.

“I’m serious, don’t.”

He swallowed and put the bread down on the small plate in front of him. “I think it’s time you and I talked about what happened.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “I know you don’t want to but I think we have to.” He took a sip of his water that was set out for him before speaking, since she obviously was not going to; she just stared down at the plate in front of her.

“You already know that I like you, a lot,” he began, watching her eyebrows furrow. At least she wasn’t glaring, he thought gratefully. “And I do apologize for hurting you. You should know that hurting you is the last thing I want to do.”

“Kevin,” said she softly, avoiding his gaze at all costs. If she looked now she would give away too much.

He reached his hand out to her. “But I was thinking about it a lot last night when you actually let me near you.” He chuckled softly, thinking of the way she looked when she slept in his arms, almost like she fit perfectly in his arms. “I tried to figure out what you wanted. I thought . . . I thought after what happened yesterday you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I’m here with you, aren’t I?” she murmured.

“Yes, and I’m so happy about that,” he said with a smile. He chuckled again. “Relieved, actually.”

“Just get to your point,” she snapped, looking up into his eyes. She saw surprise on his face, but also that look that never ceased to make her avert her eyes.

“I was thinking that I don’t really care what everyone else thinks,” said he, “about you and me.” She looked at him from beneath her eyelashes. “I honestly think you and I should be together. We have something, Charlotte.”

“Problems?” Charlotte muttered sarcastically.

“We shouldn’t pass it up.” He reached over for her hand that was twirling a fork nonchalantly. He felt her muscles tense at his touch. Her eyes bore into his with both intensity and confusion. “Please Charlie. Give us a try.”

She was about to speak – not exactly words, maybe some noises that almost counted for words since she didn’t know what to say – until a waitress (not theirs because they had a waiter) came and interrupted them. Charlotte pulled her hand away before the waitress got a word out.

“Kevin?” she asked, completely uncaring and maybe even oblivious to the scene of romance in front of her. She held out a pad with the Red Lobster logo on it and turned to a blank order sheet. As she pulled out a pen from her apron she said, “Will you please sign it?”

Kevin, whose hand was still slightly hot and tingly from just touching Charlotte, smiled politely and watched as the waitress blush. She was neither attractive nor unattractive; she was just a girl interrupting him and Charlotte, a fan that popped up at the wrong time – like they sometimes do.

“Sure,” he said, and read her nametag. “Heather.”

While he signed the waitress’s paper Charlotte watched warily. This, she thought, was just another reason why they wouldn’t really work together, despite what Kevin said. He was famous; a member of a band loved by many, many girls, most willing to do anything to get next to the boys. He could have any girl he wanted, city after city, concert after concert, and wouldn’t get too criticized for it because it was what rock stars – male rock stars – did. He was going to be on the move so much and have so many distractions that she would become a distant memory, later forgotten. She, Charlotte believed, was just one of the many girls to fall for Kevin.

And yet, he still looked at her in a way that made her feel different from all those other girls; it made her feel special, wanted, and safe.

But it couldn’t work.

“There ya go, Heather,” Kevin said as he handed the waitress her pen. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Same,” Heather said, “times ten.” She and Kevin laughed before she smiled politely at Charlotte and ran off.

No use moping, Charlotte thought, and she cracked a smile. “I bet you she’s hyperventilating in the kitchen.”

Kevin looked surprised by her change in mood, but he still went along with it knowing that this was her hint to let their conversation end unfinished and open-ended. “She seemed pretty calm to me, though I wouldn’t be surprised if she was freakin’ out on the inside.” He knew it was such a Joe thing to say but, though the guy was childish, he was usefull when maintaining a smooth, nonchalant attitude that Kevin knew Charlotte found both ridiculous and amusing.

“Fine then, she fainted once she got out of your view.” She laughed slightly at his reaction: embarrassment. “Aren’t you used to that, Mr. Rich and Famous?”

He chuckled. “My old nickname! Aw, just like old times.” He leaned back in his chair. “A lot has changed in two months.”

“Yes,” Charlotte sighed. She copied Kevin’s action. “A lot.”
-~-
Charlotte looked down at her dinner plate in both disgust and curiosity.

“It . . . it has legs,” she said hesitantly. She touched one of the tiny legs on her lobster and jumped when her fingertip made contact. “I thought they took those things off?”

Kevin tried not to laugh at her. “No, they’ll come off when you de-meat it.”

Charlotte looked up at him in shock. “You mean I have to ”- she pointed at it and looked back down at it with wide eyes – “and touch - ?”

“It’s not going to eat you, Charlie.”

“I don’t know if I want to eat it.”

“You’ll like it.”

“But it has legs!”

“So do you.”

“What if one of these is Helga-slash-Helgo’s tail?” She counted the legs on both lobster tails and gasped when one of them was, in fact, missing a leg. “It’s Helga-Helgo!”

“No,” Kevin said, trying to get her re-interested in the lobster. “It’s not, so calm down. This is a lobster that broke one of the many lobster laws and, while trying to escape lobster jail, lost a leg.” She stared at him with her wide green eyes and he smiled. “This is what he gets for breaking out of lobster jail. Think of it that way.”

She looked down at it hesitantly once more. Sure it smelled good but the shape of it, with its many legs and little fan-like ends on the tail, it kind of blocked the rest of her senses and made her think of how odd and unfriendly it looked, especially when she thought of the little story Kevin had told her to make her feel better about eating Helga-Holgo.

“Look,” Kevin said, reaching for one of his two lobster tails. “It’s not going to – ah! Get it off!” He pretended to have the lobster tail attack him. “It’s scratching out my eyes!”

When Charlotte yelped and grabbed her butter knife for protection Kevin began laughing hysterically. Charlotte then realized that, when Kevin placed his lobster tail back on the plate, the thing was not actually attacking Kevin like she thought and he had just made a mockery of her for his own entertainment. She was both mortified and shocked that she thought it to be funny as well – not that she would let Kevin see that part, just her mortified part, because she still was freaking out.

“You’re a jerk,” she said, watching him de-meat the lobster tail in admiration – admiration the he could touch the thing without freaking out like she – and disgust – because the thing was a little on the nasty side.

“But you think it’s funny,” said he while he smirked at her, causing her to blush. She knew she shouldn’t have been so shocked to find out he knew what inside her mind. He has a way of doing that, and that was just one reason why he was right about them being good together.

“I’m not going to do it for you,” Kevin said, mouthful of buttered lobster meat. “I’m not going to hold your hand and guide you through it – though I’d really like to hold your hand.” He laughed when Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Just grab your fork, grab the tail, and pull the meat out.”

“How gory,” she muttered, grabbing a fork.

“That’s it. Now grab the tail. It’s not going to eat you, remember?”

“Yeah, it’ll only scratch my eyes out,” she mocked, and Kevin just smiled at her.

She lost her smile when she grabbed the lobster tail. It felt cold, rough, and weird. She looked up at him as if to ask if what she was doing was right and he nodded, silently telling her to continue. She tensed, flinched a little, and leaned back as she stabbed the lobster meat in the tail with her fork with a squeak. She yanked the meat out and dumped it on the plate. Kevin told her to do the next lobster tail and the same process happened, but the second time around she didn’t yelp or squeal.

“The gruesome part is over,” Kevin said. “So you don’t have to look so freaked out. Now you can actually enjoy the meal.”

She tore off a bit of the slightly white, slightly pink meat with her fork and held it up for examination. “And that” – she pointed at the small cup-like thing filled with a yellow mixture – “is the butter?” Kevin nodded. “And I dip it in?”

“Trust me, you’ll love it,” Kevin replied.

Charlotte dumped the lobster meat in the melted butter, looked at the dripping slab of lobster with skepticism, and shoved it in her mouth. A flood of flavor melted in her mouth and she chewed with pure gusto. How could something so disgusting looking have such great taste?

“You like it,” Kevin assumed, seeing the look on her face.

“I’m surprised,” she said before taking another bite of lobster tail. “I thought seeing the tank full of lobsters would make me hate it. But I love it. Oh my goodness.”

“I didn’t know food got you so surprised,” he chuckled.

“I love food,” Charlotte mumbled, chewing her purely delicious food.

I love you, Kevin thought, not having the guts to say it to her. Not right now. Not when she was still fragile and confused. But soon.