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I arrive at work ten minutes after open, which is ten minutes early for my shift. I don’t have to be there until the first couple of pizzas are finished cooking.
I already have three deliveries to make. There are two families waiting in the lobby and I can see my father caught in his hard-earned eloquence as he hustles to make the pies.
Normally, I would help him out. I can already see the pizzas for my deliveries are packaged and ready to go, though, so I give him a nod and grab my orders. I feel almost completely let down by circumstance because I spent the whole drive to work preparing to communicate with my father and instead I immediately have to head out.
Then I see that the last delivery of the set is to Sabrina’s house. I used to judge people who wanted pizza in the morning, but suddenly I reconsider my stance. The first two deliveries go pretty well. I was going to feel nervous about having skipped a shower. However, both places I deliver to before I see Sabrina give me pretty good tips which I take solely as a reflection of the way I look because my confidence needs the lie and it makes me feel better about myself. I stop thinking about talking to my dad to start prepping my brain for conversation with a pretty girl.
There is something very perfect about the way the houses on her block present themselves. It’s like looking at model homes on a postcard. Like Photoshop in real life. Their home owner’s association must be killer.
I’m feeling pretty good as I ring their doorbell, knock twice and announce my arrival. Briefly, I realize that her parents may very well answer the door this early. It is the weekend. I hear the bolt come back in the lock and my heart starts to sink a little.
Then it jumps out of my throat and hits Sabrina in the face. She looks good in red.
In reality she looks ready for a lazy day at home. She has a tank top and yoga pants on. I hadn’t noticed how defined her arms were before, but it looks like she could do at least twenty more pull-ups than me.
Out of the corner of my eye, the yoga pants are telling me that she has the legs of a power lifter. Women with muscles usually look weird to me, but she doesn’t look like the glossy, overly-tanned ones I normally see on television. On her, the muscles manage to make her even more attractive.
“Hey Frank! Good to see you.”
“Hey, Sabrina. How’ve you been?”
“Not too bad. I’ve just got to get some housework done before I head out to the festival of gems tonight. You can’t beat having a slice of pizza between brush strokes. Hey, are you going?”
“Oh, you know, I didn’t even know it was in town. I’m not doing anything though. What time are you going?”
“I have to work a booth for a little while, so I’ll be there as soon as it opens. It’s going to be a ton of fun and my parents said they’ll try to make it, which is pretty much code for ‘see you tomorrow.’ Come on, Frank. Don’t make me throw oddly shaped sacks full of beans at heavy milk bottles alone.”
“I…sure! I’ll be off at six. The festival is downtown? I can be there by seven.”
“Okay Frank. It’s a date! Text me when you get there.”
Then she kissed me on the cheek and closed the door.
And I delivered pizzas a little taller that day.