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Now her mum laughs too. They pass a sign:WIDE BOYSRESTAURANT! OPEN 7 DAYS, EARLY TIL LATE!‘How about there? Want to try it?’
It’s not the sort of place they usually go. Elissa says yes quickly, before Lena can change her mind. As they drift towards the exit lane, she glances out of the side window and spots a silver BMW barrelling up the inside of them. Her mum notices just in time, swinging right to avoid a collision.
Horn blaring, the BMW shoots past. Elissa gets a split-second view of a face distorted by rage. The car cuts in front. Its brake lights flare. Gasping, Lena slams on her own brakes. Elissa’s seatbelt bites her chest. The BMW weaves left and right, toying with them. Then it accelerates away. Elissa stares at the shrinking number plate:SNP 12.
‘Stupid Nasty Prat,’ she hisses, through clenched teeth.
Breathing hard, Lena checks her mirror before taking the exit slip for Wide Boys. In the car park, she turns to Elissa. ‘You OK?’
‘Sure. Just some loser. Don’t let him ruin your day.’
‘This day?’ her mum asks. ‘Not a chance.’
III
Inside Wide Boys, another Adele song is playing. When Elissa rolls her eyes, her mum clocks her expression and grins.
The restaurant is decked out like a sixties American diner: chequerboard floor, red vinyl seats, framed prints of Elvis and Marilyn Monroe. It smells of lemon floor cleaner, fresh pastries and frying bacon.
Lena Mirzoyan grabs an empty table. ‘What do you—’
‘You choose,’ Elissa says quickly.
Taking out her glasses, Lena studies the menu.
A middle-aged couple sits down at the next table. Covertly, Elissa begins to observe them. She loves to people-watch, noting all the little choices others have made during their day.
This morning, the woman beside her decided to wear a jade necklace. She decided to put on make-up, too, choosing her violet lipstick from what was likely a collection of different shades. She chose to wear jeans rather than trousers or a skirt, and boots rather than sandals or trainers. The man decided to shave before coming out. Elissa knows that because there’s a smudge of foam behind his right ear. He combed his hair, too, presumably with some kind of product; it looks wet, and ever-so-slightly sticky. Dirt is trapped beneath the nails of his blunt-tipped fingers. While he studies the menu he runs a hand up and down his throat, as if checking for patches the razor missed.
‘Stop that,’ the woman hisses. ‘Always touching yourself.’
He lurches upright, hand dropping to his side. Elissa hides her smile by turning away.
On the smaller table to her right sits an older man. He’s wearing a turquoise jumper, mustard-yellow corduroys and toffee-apple-red shoes. A signet ring gleams on his pinkie finger. Against his teapot leans a battered paperback:The History of the Peloponnesian Warby Thucydides. His mouth twitches as he reads, revealing a set of pointed yellow teeth.
A waitress appears, then. She’s in her fifties, with blonde hair so glamorously styled she must spend hours maintaining it. Pinned to her T-shirt is a name badge:ANDREA. She’s at least sixty pounds overweight, all boobs and bum, but she wears it so well it’s impossible to imagine her differently.
‘Look at them fabulous eyes,’ Andrea crows, flashing a red-lipped smile. ‘Always wanted green ones myself, but you can’t have everything.’
‘Youhavegreen eyes,’ Elissa says.
‘Oh, don’t you go believin’ everything you see or hear. I got my contacts in, is all.’
Elissa blinks, stealing a quick glance at her mum. ‘You can change your eye colour?’
‘Chuckie, you can change just about anything you want if you tries hard enough. Through these puppies I can’t see shitums, but at least I got my green peepers, even if I might bring you the wrong-flavoured milkshake because of ’em.’ Andrea winks conspiratorially. ‘You should see me on Hallowe’en. I wear a pair of eyes that’re bright orange, slitted just like a cat’s. Scares the bejesus out of people.’ She makes her hand into a paw and meows. They both laugh.
‘Well,’ the waitress continues. ‘I’m guessing you didn’t inherit those gorgeous greens from your mum. Should we be thanking your dad for ’em?’
‘Um … I guess.’
‘Is he joining you lovely ladies today?’
‘He doesn’t live with … I mean, we don’t …’
Elissa’s mum clears her throat. ‘I think, actually, we’re ready to order.’
‘Great.’ Andrea tilts her head. Her fake green eyes gleam. ‘What can I getcha both?’