The door dings. Another customer. "Are you ready?" I ask the woman who can't make up her mind. I could just see her as my stepmom, me waiting for her to pick me up from school, taking forever to pick out groceries, and waiting for her to order a simple spicy tuna roll from Hanabi.
Looking around her, another woman who could pass for strawberry blonde walks up to the counter. I suck in my breath. This woman is really large. And I'm being nice.
Maybe the picture she posted was pre-weight gain. My dad is a workout and health nut, and this woman looks like she's snacked on a few too many Kit Kats if you know what I mean. She has a friendly face, though. Hey, maybe Dad can put her on a boot camp diet plan and she'd lose those extra pounds in no time at all.
Ignoring the wishy-washy lady, I ask the overweight one, "Are you Kelly?"
"No. But I'd like a large caramel latte with whipped cream."
I keep up the Perk Me Up! smile, although I'm tempted to suggest the skim latte instead of the caramel one. While I'm ringing her up, the wishy-washy lady signals to me she's ready. Can't she see I'm ringing up someone else?
Maria is in the office and I don't want her to think I can't take care of the customers. I turn to the wishy-washer. "Did you decide?"
"What's the calorie count of the medium vanilla coffee? Is it the same as the regular?"
Is she kidding me? I look under the counter to see if there's a calorie listing for the drinks, but there isn't. Now I don't know what to do. Should I make the other lady's drink or call Maria to help?
I look at my watch. It's seven on the dot. Kelly will be here any second. My dad will be here any second.
And Miss Wishy-Washy is worried about a calorie count.
I knock on the door to the office and call Maria out to the register. I hurry to make the large caramel latte while
Maria takes care of the frizzy-haired, high-maintenance customer. The chime rings on the door and a woman walks into the café who definitely looks like Kelly's PJSN profile pic.
She scans the café, then sits down at a vacant table to wait for my unsuspecting dad.
Sure enough, my dad walks in the door next. My heart is palpitating a hundred beats a second right now. My dad waves to me and walks up to the register. Kelly must recognize him from the picture I posted on his profile. She moves up behind him and is about to tap him on the shoulder.
"I have to tell you something," I say at the same time Kelly taps him and says, "Ron?"
He turns to her. "Can I help you?"
"Dad, it's important."
He puts his fingertips together on one hand and moves it up and down, the unique Israeli sign for wait a second. The problem is, I can't wait a second. I need to tell him that, even though he's unaware of it, he's on his first PJSN date.
"I'm Kelly. Are you Ron?" Kelly asks.
"Yes."
"From the Professional Jewish Singles Network?" Pause.
"Um...could you hold that thought for one second," my dad says to Kelly. Then he turns to me. "Tell me what this is all about, Amy. Right. Now. I'm assuming Maria doesn't want to talk to me about adjusting your work schedule."
"Aba, you're going to laugh when I tell you this."
"I doubt it."
Kelly looks upset and embarrassed. "Am I missing something here?"
Okay, it's time to fess up. I thought it'd be easier than it is. I have the urge to hide in a dark corner. "I set up the date. I'm his daughter," I tell her.
Getting it, Kelly steps back. "Oh." She adjusts the Coach bag hanging on her shoulder. "Well, that makes me look stupid."
"Actually, it makes me look stupid," I tell her.
"And me," my dad chimes in. "I'll tell you what, Kelly. Why don't we sit down and have my daughter serve us the most expensive drinks in the place. It'll be her treat."
Kelly shrugs and nods her head in agreement. "Sounds good to me."
It doesn't sound good to me at all!
"I'm hungry, actually. How about one of the scones?" my dad asks. I'm adding the bill in my head, knowing I'll have to work at least two more hours in order to pay for the food bill.
"Scones sound wonderful," Kelly says, smiling. "Don't they have Eli's cheesecake, too? Grab me a slice of that, would you, dear?"
I'm not liking Kelly with the strawberry blonde hair as much as my dad seems to like her. Teaching me a lesson is not how I imagined this date going. My dad sits down with Kelly while I bring them over Double Dutch Coffee Delight drinks. (I add a couple extra shots of espresso as a bonus...I hope they both are up all night and can't sleep.) Those specialty drinks are four dollars and twenty-five cents each, along with the two-dollar-and-fifty-five-cent cheesecake and two-dollar-and-thirty-five-cent scones.
As if my day isn't disastrous enough, when Maria tells me to sweep the floor of the café I find Nathan at his usual spot in the corner. "You got caught in one of your lies, Barbie?" Nathan says. "I have a piece of advice. Next time you set your dad up on a date, you should probably tell him about it beforehand."
I shoot him a nasty glare. "At least I have parents," I say, then want to take back my words right after they've left my mouth. Nathan's face goes ashen and he starts packing up his stuff.
Maybe his parents are dead or in the hospital somewhere. I'm a jerk. "I'm sorry," I quickly say.