Pops took great care to preserve the quality and character of the café. I remember one day as I cleaned between each wood slat of a chair, he came over and put his hand on my shoulder. I looked up into his caramel-colored irises. He smiled all the way to his eyes. “Remember to leave your pride inside, luv, but make sure you keep it alive,” he said. The hand-rolled clove peeking from the side of his mouth always emphasized his husky, accented voice.
I wanted to feel that pride in the café while humbly working to maintain its quality like my father had taught me, and even though I didn’t know what the future held for me and Kell’s, I wouldn’t disgrace his memory by letting his life’s work fall apart. I chose to work either an opening or closing shift seven days a week, while Martha and Sheil alternated days. Jenny, who was the only other employee, would fill in the gaps so that there would be two people working most of the time. Jenny had worked at Kell’s for a few years. She was two years older than me and every time I would visit New York, she and I would fall back into an easy friendship.
It had been at least a month before I settled into the routine at the café. I started to recognize the regulars. Joe and his brother Paddy spent several mornings a week at their usual table in the corner. I would often find myself standing close by, shamelessly eavesdropping on their hilarious conversations. The familiarity of the fading Irish accents filled my heart with warmth.
“Somebody requested that type of music? That junk? That shit?” Paddy said to Joe in disbelief one Tuesday morning.
“I believe they did, Paddy.”
“And she played it? Is she stupid?”
“For tirty-tree years I’ve been going to that dance hall, Paddy, and she has been there every single Sunday playing the same music until last week. Somebody must have requested it. She’s not stupid—she doesn’t understand.”
“Does she know English?”
“She does.”
“Well, then, how do you explain it?”
“She doesn’t understand the two—how if you have nice music, people will dance and come back, but if you play that crap, people will leave.”
“Give her another illustration, Joe, to help her understand. Maybe you can tell her that if the food is terrible, people won’t eat it.”
“I actually enjoy the food. I love broccoli, I like stew,” Joe said matter-of-factly.
Paddy looked at Joe with a puzzled but interested look. “Do you like spaghetti and meatballs?”
“Of course I do, but they only serve Irish fare there, Paddy. I thought you knew that.”
Jenny danced through the jingling café door, waving a flyer around like a crazy person, momentarily distracting me from Paddy and Joe.
“Looky looky, cute boy came in last night and asked to put this up, but I’m keeping it to myself.” It was a very simple flyer advertising three bands playing that Friday night at a nearby bar called The Depot. I didn’t recognize the first two but tensed up when I saw The Ivans at the bottom. Guess they weren’t exactly headliners. “You wanna go with me?” Jenny said, wearing a stupid grin.
“What did the guy look like?”
“Hot.”
“Did he ask for me?”
“No, why would he ask for you?”
“Well I met this guy on a plane, and um… never mind. Yes, I’ll go with you, but we’ll have to rearrange the schedule so I can go early since it looks like they’ll be playing first.”
“Who will be playing first?”
“Well, I mean, I just want to see all three bands.”
“Oh, okay, yeah sure, whatever. You’re the boss.”
“Hey, Jenny, just one thing? Did the guy have any tattoos?”
“Oh, yes. He had a big, thick angel wing on his forearm… very sexy. I couldn’t stop staring,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
It was Will.
Friday snuck up on me. I wrapped everything up at the café and had a few minutes to run to my apartment and change before Jenny and I met me on the street. I decided on some black skinny jeans, flats, a black tank top, and a little gray blazer. I’ve always been the monochromatic type, never really wearing many colors or patterns. I brushed out my long, dark hair, put on a little mascara and lip gloss, said “Be good” to Jackson, then headed for the door and down to the street to where Jenny was waiting.
“You look amazing, Mia.”
“Really? You are too kind, girl. Anyway, look at you, you look great!” She did. Jenny was much more dressed up than I. She wore a silk shirt with a shimmery skirt and a bomber jacket with chunky heels. Jenny is the polar opposite of me. She’s curvy with blond hair and light eyes.
When we arrived at The Depot, there were a few scattered people in attendance. We made our way to the bar, Jenny ordered a beer, and I asked for my usual going-out drink, vodka soda with a splash of cranberry. The bar was filling up and The Ivans began taking the stage. There was a sprinkle of applause.