Third Attempt

The next morning, I returned to the coffee shop. When I walked in, I didn’t see Claire anywhere—only the girl with the dark brown hair from before. I’d peeked at her nametag as I came up to the counter. It said Alina.

“Welcome in!” She greeted me with an odd accent I’d never heard before.

“Hello. Does Claire happen to be here today?” I immediately jumped to the point.

“Huh? Oh! No, she’s not. She took the day off.” She’d seemed shocked and confused at first, probably wondering how I knew Claire. That likely meant they were friends.

“Oh, okay. I’ll just get a cappuccino then, thank you.” I had decided to let it go, not wanting to look like a creep. Though in my head, I was going over all the possible reasons she might’ve had for avoiding me—literally the day after making a deal to go out with me. I’d begun to think she wasn’t all that different from other girls—not keeping her word and disappearing without a heads-up.

“All right, here ya go! That comes out to $5.50.” She’d managed to make the drink faster than Claire had the day before. But that was only because I’d kept Claire busy with conversation.

“Thanks,” I’d replied, swiping my card. “Have a good one,” I said hurriedly.

“You too!” her voice had cheered after me.

I hadn’t even bothered to linger around that morning. I just jumped straight into my car and drove off to work.

I kid you not, my dad had been waiting for me by the entrance. The moment I walked through the glass doors, he was standing by the receptionist’s desk with his arms crossed over his chest. I hadn’t even tried to hide my annoyance—I just rolled my eyes directly at him and sighed as loudly as I could.

“Oh, I apologize, Charles. I’ve been too harsh on you. Maybe you should get a three-week, all-expenses-paid vacation to the Caribbean.” His sarcastic tone had been so dramatic, it made me realize exactly where I’d gotten it from.

“I accept your apology, Father. And I will gladly take you up on that offer,” I’d replied smugly.

“Do you think this is a joke?” His nostrils had begun to flare. Everyone in the lobby had awkwardly shuffled away as my dad raised his voice.

“Isn’t it?” I replied flippantly.

“Charles, you were nowhere to be seen yesterday; you’ve been late three days in a row, and you skipped our dinner with the Aiellos. I’m this close to demoting you,” he scolded me like a child.

“Wow, I should get a medal for all those achievements,” I said, still facetious, having had no desire to even try to remain professional with my dad. His only response had been lifting his hand to his forehead and sighing. He was clearly tired of my antics—but I hadn’t been nearly done having fun with it. Still, I’d known I wouldn’t get very far unless I gave him a little of what he wanted.

“You’re right, Dad. I apologize. That was very irresponsible of me. I’d be willing to attend a dinner with the Aiellos tonight… if you’re still willing to give me a chance.” I had looked at him with a fake contrite expression.

He hadn’t been difficult to satisfy—as long as you told him he was 100% right.

He’d looked up at me, contemplating his answer. He’d seemed tired and disappointed at the same time.

“Be there by 7. No later,” he finally said, walking off while shaking his head and sighing.

“You can count on it, Dad!” I had yelled after him, just to irritate him a little more.

I still don’t really know why I’d been so insistent on annoying my dad. But I’d had myself convinced I did it because of how nitpicky and strict he always was.

Several hours later, I was getting off work and making my way to downtown Chicago. My dad had texted me the address—apparently the place was called The Maple.

I’d driven the whole way with Claire on my mind, asking myself all the questions I couldn’t ask her. Where did she go? Why didn’t she show up? Did she never intend to give me a chance? It had been an endless whirlwind of the same questions all day. Even when I’d pulled into a parking spot outside the restaurant, I refused to stop thinking about her.

Adjusting my suit, I walked through the door and almost immediately spotted my parents and the Aiellos at a large table in the back. Sighing to myself, I went up to the table, greeted them, and sat down. My parents had both given me a bold glare, which I ignored as I ordered.

I’d remained silent the entire time while my parents and the Aiellos discussed marital plans for me and the Aiellos’ daughter, Natalie. To me, it had seemed more like business plans than anything else. This arranged marriage was just a way to seal the deal between both families—a truce, a contract. I hadn’t been paying attention to much of the conversation, but I did catch a few things here and there. They obviously wanted a big, fancy, expensive wedding. My parents only cared about their plans to become business partners as a result of the marriage. They couldn’t have cared less about the marriage itself.

While I’d been deep in thought, my dad snapped me out of it with yet another reprimand. I honestly couldn’t even say it was embarrassing anymore—I’d just gotten tired of it.

“Do you have nothing to say, Charles? Mr. Aiello is asking you a question,” my dad said, looking ashamed of me.

“Oh, I’m sorry. What did you ask?” I had pretended to care, though it was clear I didn’t.

“I simply want to know your questions and concerns about all of this,” Antonio Aiello had spoken in his thick Italian accent. My dad had an Italian accent too, but it was nowhere near as thick—or annoying—as Antonio’s.

“Uh, nope. I wasn’t concerned about anything, to be honest.” I’d loosely poked at the pasta I’d ordered, which was ironic since I hadn’t even liked pasta.

“Show some respect, Charles,” my dad had muttered under his breath, nudging my shoulder.

“Oh, I apologize. It’s just that I didn’t care at all. This was your plan, after all—not mine or Natalie’s,” I’d answered, already feeling my dad’s hidden, boiling rage.

“I apologize, Antonio. My son isn’t the most mature for his age,” my dad had said pettily, apologizing on my behalf.

“Well, I wasn’t sorry,” I replied with a shrug. My dad gave me a look that told me I was dead as soon as we walked out that door.

“I don’t think that will go well with our daughter. I would prefer she be married to a… mature, responsible man,” Antonio had said spitefully, looking at me with clear disgust.

“He’s just having a bad day. He’s normally much more behaved than this,” my dad had said, speaking for me again and elbowing me in the rib. That had angered me so much, you don’t even know.

“I can speak for myself, Harvey,” I said, calling my dad by his name as I stood up from my chair. The Aiellos had looked appalled. My dad remained silent, keeping his gaze locked on Antonio. And my mom? She had just sipped her wine without even batting an eye in my direction.

“If you’ll excuse me now, I had someplace to be. The pasta was absolute trash, by the way.” I’d hoped that insult had stung them all just a little.

I’d heard my dad get up as I walked out the door. Sadly for him, he was too late. The car was already on, and I was speeding off before he even made it to the glass entrance.

It had been yet another exhausting day that made me regret getting up at all. I’d been so drained that the moment I got to my bed, I collapsed onto it. The only thought circling my mind until I fell asleep was, I have to see Claire.

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