The Untouchables

Chapter 2 -- Ungrateful

The ride to the restaurant was short. It only took about fifteen minutes. Mom and Claire spent the whole time talking about their golden days back at school. Zach was quiet the whole time, but I couldn't see him because I was seated up front, in the passenger seat. So far I had only heard him say hello. It was made clear by his constant grimace that he didn't want to be there.
We made our way into the restaurant. It was one of the more moderate of the nice restaurants we usually went to, which didn't really say much because it was still very nice. My mother hadn't made reservations, but she didn't need to, we had connections to the owner of the restaurant. The waiter brought us to our table, a very secluded booth. The dim lighting gave a more romantic essence than was probably appropriate for the occasion, but nonetheless we sat down and thanked the waiter for our menus.
After we got settled in and ordered drinks, I decided to run to the bathroom. It was the perfect opportunity to text Zoe, my oldest and best friend. She was the only person I ever texted besides my parents, sad, I know, but in the middle of senior year I was in a really bad place, so I ditched all of my friends, more by necessity than by choice. I had totally revamped my life since then.
I texted Zoe urgently: pls help, I'm trapped at dinner with my mom's friends.
She responded almost immediately: that sucks. I'm on the beach staring at a hot guy fishing. I'm hoping for a Sisterhood of the traveling Pants type thing. Zoe had left for Greece the day before. To say I was jealous was an extreme understatement. Greece was one of my favorite places that I had been to. It surely beat being stuck with a moody stranger and his mother.
Srsly this lady's son seems like such an ass. I was, of course, referring to Zach.
A woman walked into the bathroom. She gave me a slightly disgusted look. I was that girl standing in front of the mirror, texting.
My phone buzzed, distracting me from the hole of self consciousness that had been burrowing itself into the pit of my stomach. Ooh is he hot? she replied. I laughed at her typical-Zoe comment. All she ever thought about were boys; I had been in the midst of a self inflicted boy drought for the past few months. It had been hard to keep myself from looking at all of the eye candy around the city, but I had learned that boys were not worth it. My boy-sobriety had trained me to steer clear of all boys, not even notice if they were hot. I know this seemed completely implausible, but I was incredibly motivated.
All of the guys I had hooked up with before, including my last boyfriend, were preppy, white guys from school or fancy events. Every single one of their hairs was positioned perfectly by too much gel in order to compliment their perfectly chiseled bone structure. Their sweaters were layered over perfectly ironed button-downs, and khakis were a must. All of them played lacrosse, and spent thousands of dollars a week when they went clubbing . This may have sounded like a stereotype, but was the 100% truth, though I always hated to admit it. I didn't go many places where I could meet different, interesting people. It made me feel bored and boring.
Zach was... different, not necessarily in a bad way. He was wearing a buttoned up shirt, but he looked very uncomfortable, restricted. Claire had probably forced him to wear it. I would guess that he wore t-shirts on a daily basis. I racked my brain for a clearer picture of him in my head, but I had really only seen him for about ten minutes, during which I hadn't been paying attention to him at all. He had glasses, which actually suited him quite nicely. The frames were brown and slightly rounded. They gave him that slightly nerdy, but also a hipster look, which I liked. His hair sat freely on top of his head, curly and loose. So, he was cute, at least in a more laid back way than most guys I was into. His normalcy was a breath of fresh air.
My fingers hovered over the keyboards waiting  for my brain to catch up with them. HELLO are you good? Zoe texted. I was taking too long to respond.
Yeah, I'm just trying to figure out how to summarize his look. I pressed send and began trying to explain my thought process as concisely as possible. He's British, ik hot, but he just kind of grumbles and pouts bc he doesn't wanna be here. Send.
The bubble, telling me she was typing, wavered as she typed and retyped. A swoosh sounded from my phone. And physically? Right, that. I couldn't understand why I was so nervous about the whole thing, but I just was. It felt like trying to tell someone that there was something in their teeth if you weren't close friends, but Zoe and I were the closest friends.
After debating for a couple of second I finally picked something to say. He's not a prep. He's (objectively) hot in a casual way, which you know is not exactly my type. He is tall, sorta skinny, but fit, and has brown hair that's slightly wavy. After sending the text, I thought about my past romances, that were more propelled by hormones than romance, and how I wasn't really given much of a choice in what pool of boys I could choose from.
I realized that if I stayed in the bathroom any longer, people, namely my mother, would be wondering whether I had fallen in. I quickly told Zoe that I had to go, washed my hands and went back out to the  table.  My mother gave me a worried look. I reassured her with a subtle smile and nod.
The waiter came over to take our orders. I decided on pork chops. My mother and Claire both decided on the salmon. Zach, of course, said he wasn't hungry. "Oh please, you can get anything. It's on me," my mother tried to reassure him. She realized that he was turned off by the prices on the menu. Everything was upwards of $30, but I guess it just seemed normal to me. Zach stayed rock hard in his face and his words, still refusing food. I noticed Claire give him a forceful look of disdain, he returned it with the same scowl he had on all evening. Maybe I would retract my earlier statement; Zach's whiny baby act was most definitely unattractive. He was making the dinner so much worse than it already would have been.
The waiter, who had clearly been made uncomfortable by our little banter, took our menus and rushed away.
The next few seconds were filled with the sounds of the restaurant's atmosphere. People talking and laughing and eating. The crash of a plate, followed by the sound of the whole restaurant turning to see it, and then several servers rushing to clean it up. Other groups quickly resumed their pleasant meals.
My mother and Claire began to talk and laugh, leaving Zach and me in an awkward silence. I couldn't help my eyes floating over to him a few times, but they darted away once he was about to look up from his distracted thoughts.
I pretended to look captivated by the people at other tables. A few feet away, I spotted a couple on a date. One man laughed while the other smiled at a joke his date had made. They both took a sip of wine. Next to them, two old women who seemed very close friends were complaining about children running around their apartment building ever since summer had begun. In their defense, kids were pretty annoying, I thought, looking over at Zach.
His head was drooped down, exaggerating his already poor posture. Though dark curls shielded his eyes, I could see the light from his phone reflected on the lower half of his face. His blatant disregard for manners was really beginning to get on my nerves. I was about to look away, back to people at other tables, but then I noticed Zach's lips curl at the edges. He was actually, genuinely smiling.
"What is it, honey?" my mother asked. I frowned, perplexed by what she was referring to, but then I realized I had been smiling for no reason. I guess it was contagious.
Zach looked up, and his face once again became plastered with a rough frown. "Nothing. I'm just hungry," I replied, with possibly the lamest excuse ever. Across from me, I saw Zach look back down to his phone once again.
"Yeah me too, everything looks so good here," Claire added, trying to start a conversation. All but Zach's eyes drifted to the dishes at other tables. They did look good.
I decided to go against Zach's poor example and be a good hostess."This is one of my favorite restaurants in the city actually," I said, it was a total lie, but at least I was trying. I planted a smile back onto my face. Claire seemed nice, too nice to ignore. Plus, I would like to think that my mother had good taste in friends when she was my age.
Luckily, I didn't have to keep conversation up for too much longer because the food had arrived. It smelled mouth-wateringly amazing, as it had the one other time I had been to the restaurant. The plates were put in front of my mother, Claire, and me.
It was Claire's opportunity to ask Zach if he wanted any. When she did, Zach didn't so much as look at her, he just grumbled and continued scrolling through his phone. I could tell that Claire didn't want to start an argument in the restaurant, but she looked like she could barely restrain herself. She sighed and began to cut into her food.
"Wow, Taryn, you have amazing taste in food," she moaned after her first bite.
"Thank you Mrs–"
"Please, call me Claire." There was a hint of sternness in her voice, but her pleasant smile still managed to flash at me. A clear example of why I hated talking to people. She didn't even have a ring, how could I be so stupid? I nodded politely and continued to chew my food.
Claire and my mother began to talk about what they would do together during Claire's time here. Them together would mean I would be stuck with only Zach's obviously exciting entertainment for two whole weeks. Yay me. I tried to distract myself from the terrible thought  by eating my pork chops, which were as good as Claire had described her salmon to be.
For about 45 minutes, Claire, my mother, and I successfully made small talk; more like they chatted and laughed together, and I interjected comments when I could. I was determined not to let Zach's rude behaviour get in the way of my reputation as a hospitable daughter.
We all ate our food in peace and then my mom got the check, which made me, and probably everyone else in the entire restaurant, very uncomfortable. The meal had probably cost upwards of $100 for the three of us. I wasn't even sure exactly what Claire's status was, but I knew that it was a lot to pay for three people.
I felt like any time we went out together, everything would be so awkward. Having money had never made me feel so icky inside before. I just felt like I didn't know what to do. I felt embarrassed. Having Claire and Zach there made everything about my life seem so taboo. Almost everything we talked about that evening had involved a detail about expenses. It was impossible to avoid.
I couldn't stop thinking about it for the entire cab ride home. Claire didn't even seem to have a problem with it. It was probably since she had known my mother in her old life, or she was just hiding her annoyance very deeply, but still. I didn't really have any friends who weren't of the same status as me. Maybe Zach did have a point in boycotting dinner, though he definitely took it way too far.
By the time we all got back into the apartment, it was 11:30. After the exhausting evening, I was so ready for bed, but I couldn't just abandon Claire and my mother like that. Instead, I put on a happy smile and tried to open my eyes as wide as possible, which wasn't very much.
My mother told Zach and Claire where their rooms were. "'Night,' Zach said in our general direction, but not looking at us. He walked up to his room in silence.
"Goodnight," Claire tried to call to her son, getting no response.
"So," my mother spoke, "would either of you like some tea?" Normally, I would be happy for some tea to close up my night, but I needed some time alone.
"No thanks, I think I'm gonna head to bed," I responded.
Claire decided she wanted some tea. I was surprised at how she could stay up so long, jetlag and all, but I guess that's what true friendship really is: the willingness to stay with each other forever. Zoe and I had pulled some crazy all-nighters in all of our years.
"Goodnight, Honey, I love you," my mother said before walking to the kitchen. I was too tired to echo her words back, but I managed a positive sounding grumble.
Turning away, I let the smile slip off of my face. It took all of my effort to trudge up the few stairs that led up to the second floor of the apartment. I was considering going to sleep right there on the stairs. Eventually I was able to bear through it.
I plugged my phone into the wall next to my bed. There was a message from Zoe that I hadn't seen after I had left the bathroom. Send me a pic of him pllsss??? it read, followed by the sad emoji with one tear falling down its face. I would have to wait till the next day for that.
I was so tempted just to roll into by bed with my dress still on, but that would be very unpleasant to wake up to. A sports bra and some shorts would have to do.
After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I was finally able to crawl under the covers. I let out a deep sigh, releasing all of my stress. Underneath the covers, I slipped off my socks. The covers felt cold and refreshing to my toes. The silky feeling of the sheets was so familiar on my skin. My bed was where I belonged, if only I could live in it forever.
My heavy eyelids closed practically instantly, but my mind wouldn't stop racing. I fell asleep to the thoughts of what life would be like if my father wasn't who he was. The fantasies I had dreamt up were probably nothing like the real deal, but they would have to do.

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Hello all,
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this. I'm really excited about this story and having been preparing it for months to be published. I can't wait for you all to see what's in store.