Crossed Over: A coming out story by Santana Knox

Author:Santana Knox [Knox, Santana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Baneful Ink Publishing
Published: 2024-04-25T22:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

ILLEGAL POSITION

I put aside my internal conflict for the day so I could at least enjoy my lunch. There was a new place in town that was apparently equal parts delicious and authentic, and that was absolutely unheard of in such a small town. My family had been the most ethnic thing in Devil Town until my mother decided she’d served her time, put in her notice at the local research facility that had sponsored my parent’s immigration decades prior, and found a better job in New York.

One that didn’t underpay her just because she was an immigrant and expected her to be grateful for what they gave.

A sign hung above a giant tree boasting the words La Terazza with an arrow pointing to the stairs. The place was whimsical, a three-story patio-treehouse hybrid with tables made of smaller tree trunks preserved in resin. Colorful tinsel cut into tiny little pieces hung from strings, lining the space above us like butterflies and traveling from branch to branch.

The smell of warm arepas invaded every one of my senses, forcing my mouth to water and my stomach to rumble. “This place looks amazing!” I couldn’t hide my excitement, and with good reason. Nearly every table looked full, and on a weekday lunch in Devil Town? This place was clearly legit, a blessing to this little shit-hole.

“I don’t know.” Harvey cocked her chin to the side. “I’m still thinking about that feijoada.” She threw a smirk my way before turning toward the hostess.

We settled for a table on the second-floor patio, and with heated lamps above us, it made for the perfect cozy, outdoor winter lunch. The blond-haired waiter clenched his teeth at our refusal of cocktails, the place apparently famous for their drinks. I’d worked as a server long enough to know that he thought us drinking water meant we were trying to keep the bill low, and keeping the bill low meant we wouldn’t be tipping well.

“I can make it for you,” I said halfway through my first bite of calamari.

“Huh?” she mumbled through a mouthful, not realizing I was still processing our conversation from before our first plates were served.

“Feijoada. You’ve done a lot for me while I’ve been here.” I stabbed the fried little ringlet with my fork awkwardly and shrugged. “It’s literally the least I could do to say thanks.”

“Do not play with my heart right now, Nia.” She dropped her fork to the plate dramatically and clutched her chest. “I will move mountains for the black beans.”

I laughed, awkwardly covering my cheeks that felt swollen from the amount of laughing I’d done in her presence the last few days. “It’s no biggie. I can swing it this weekend.”

This weekend.

Even if it was only a couple days away, I was making long term plans now. As long term as it got for me, anyway. Since I’d gotten here, I had been taking each day in stride, never planning more than the next few hours. Now, I was planning to cook a meal for someone who was quickly becoming the best friend I’d never asked for.

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