"What's your main hobby?" I asked him, wanting to know these things.
"Hm..." Carson was lost in thought for a moment, and our server came.
When she first walked out of the kitchen, I instantly knew that her name was Amelia. No, I could not see her name tag. She was too far away. No, I have never met her in my life before. Amelia is from California, she's nineteen, and her parents are divorced. She is an only child. Once again, I have never met Amelia, and don't know anyone who knows her.
The man behind the bar looked up and winked at me. His name was Tim. He's lived in Coldwater all his life, and his parents are dead. No, I do not know Tim either.
"Hi, I'm Amelia, and I'll be your server tonight. Did you guys get drinks?" She asked suddenly.
"Um.. No, we didn't." I answered her.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. That was our new girl, and she must have forgotten to ask. I"m so sorry. Would you guys like anything to drink? Water, iced tea, Coca Cola products?"
"Um... Water's fine. No lemon," I ordered.
"And can I get anything for you?" Amelia asked, a little flirty. I could tell she thought Carson was handsome. I had to agree. He was very good looking.
"Water's fine, too. No lemon," Carson said, giving her a polite smile.
"Okay. I'll be right out with that," she said, batting her eyelashes.
"Um, before you go, could you tell that man to stop staring at me... It would make me a lot more comfortable," I said, pointing to the man behind the bar. He winked at me again, as he saw me pointing at him.
"Oh god. I'm sorry about that. Tim can be such an idiot," Amelia explained, shaking her head.
"Oh, wow. I can't believe he was doing that to you," Carson said, snickering as Amelia walked away.
"Stop! It's not funny; it's gross!" I said, smacking him across the table.
"Ow. You hit hard," Carson said, rubbing his arm.
"Well, you deserved it," I retorted.
"Okay, fine. I deserved it. That doesn't change the fact that it hurt," he said, still rubbing his arm.
"I'm sorry that you can't handle it when a girl punches you," I said sarcastically.
"I'm sorry that you don't hit like a girl," he countered. This had me laughing, and I ended up hitting my head on the table.
"Ouch," I said, going to put my palm to my head until I realized that I had a brace on that one. "There, are you happy? We're even."
"What'd you do to your hand?" He said suddenly.
"Oh, um... I tripped," I said, only half lying. I did trip earlier, that's just not the cause of my broken knuckles. But I didn't want to explain how thinking of my friends that had been killed because of me upset me so much that I punched a wall.
"Ouch... It looks painful," He said, taking my hand in his.
"Oh, um... Not really. I mean, yeah it hurt when it happened, but the pain kind of died down," I explained as he looked at me skeptically.
"Did you go to the doctors? Because it has to be painful still. It wasn't like that when I dropped you off earlier." Carson was concerned.
"No, I didn't go to the doctors, but I promise you. It doesn't hurt as bad as you think it does. Well, not to me anyways. I'm kind of used to pain," I said, trying to assure him.
He gave me that look again, and I knew I'd said the wrong thing.
"You're used to pain. That makes no sense." He shook his head.
"Yeah, well, when you're abused for six years of your life, you don't exactly become a soft pillow and whine about every little scratch and cut you get," I blurted out before I thought about what I was doing.
"But this isn't a scratch or-- wait. You were abused for six years? By your father? Oh... I'm-- That really sucks." He was at a loss for words now, and I couldn't blame him. I wouldn't know what to say to that either if I were him.
"Yeah, well, life can suck. But this is why I've kept people out, or some of it anyways. They become distracted by my awful life and want nothing more than to sympathize with me, and that's not what I want. What I want is... never mind. Amelia is coming back," I said tilting my head in her direction.
Carson stared at me as if I'd gone mad. which, honestly, wasn't too far off the mark. Well, kind of.
"Here you go. Do you know what you want, or do you still wan an extra minute?" Amelia asked politely, though clearly curios as to why Carson was looking at me like that. I kicked his leg under the table and he jumped.
I smiled up at Amelia, my wet hair dripping in my eyes a little bit. "I want the seven ounce House Sirloin steak with mashed potatoes and broccoli," I told her, naming something I've heard kids say was good.
"Um, I'll have the same I guess. Thanks." Amelia wrote down our orders and smiled taking our menus back.
"I thought you've never been here," Carson said flatly, obviously still thinking about what I'd just said.
"I haven't. But when nobody gives you the time of day, you easily overhear things, and I've heard that Applebees has good steak. I've heard the kids talking about it, so, I decided I would order it. And would you just forget what I said a minute ago? Please? I wasn't thinking when I said it, and it's no bid deal." He raised his eyebrows, about to say something. "Not anymore, it isn't. So just drop it. Please."I explained to him.
"Seattle, I can't just unhear what you told me. I've heard stories, but I never thought I'd acutally meet anyone who's been abused, and it's a lot to take in. A big shock--"
"Just drop it. I don't want to talk about it, and I regret even saying anything." I cut him off. God. Why couldn't he just drop it?