#granmda

It was late. I didn’t need pizza. I shouldn’t have gone out. I shouldn’t have driven. Oh well. I got a little messed up and got hungry. I decided to try something new. I’ve passed this place a few times on the Black Horse Pike, but I hadn’t decided to try Vero Pizzeria - not until tonight. 

It’s a handsome establishment. It looks new. Hip. I walk in and there’s two pleasant girls behind the counter. I stutter when one asks me, “What can I get you?” because I am distracted by a man in the back, sliding a pizza into the oven. This dude used to work at Antonino’s! Not just work there, though, this dude was like an owner or something. It was him and this other guy. Always there. Probably for the past ten years. Maybe longer. I manage to say, “Slice of plain. And, uh, a grandma.” 

“For here or to go?”

“Um, huh? For here? Yeah, here.”

Shit. They know something is up. I figure they probably just think I’m some red-eyed, word-slurring junkie cashing in some change for a piece o’ pizza. 

When I pay with my debit card they look shocked. 

Before taking a seat, I begin pacing back and forth, eyes locked on this Antonino’s dude. I’m fascinated. What could have happened? Did that other dude sleep with his wife? Or did he sleep with that guy’s wife? What drama could have occurred to have caused this split. 

I take a seat and wait for my food, eyes never leaving the pizza guy. I came here expecting something brand new. New pizza, new place, new people. I’m not upset at the situation, it just wasn’t what I was expecting. Antonino’s has a mean slice, so if the guy being the same makes the pizza the same that’s fine by me. 

But it makes me wonder, is there anything new left? Like, for me to experience I mean. Or will it all just be different versions of the same old? That’s a little bit more worrisome. I decide before I leave I am going to call out this pizza guy. I need to know what happened with him and his old gig. 

One of the pizza girls walks my slices over and I thank her. The slice of plain looks good, the grease on the cheese is glistening under the bright lights. It folds nicely. One bite in and I can’t honestly tell whether it reminds me of Antonino’s pizza. But it’s good. 

I hear a conversation that gets my attention. Some Ken Bone looking dude is talking to the pizza guy! Bone mentions Antonino’s and the pizza guy says, “That’s my shop!”

What? How could this be? He is still somehow affiliated with Antonino’s but has opened up his own place? Why isn’t it called Antonino’s 2? I’ll never get some of my answers now. I can’t try to talk to him after this guy. I’ll look like a poser. I missed my chance. 

I’ve missed my chance many times. If only I was more of a go-getter, maybe I’d have some of the things so many people my age already have. Houses. Spouses. Whatever.

The idea of this pizza guy still being a part of the old thing, but striking out to do a new thing too, is exciting. I’m old now. I might not have many brand new thing left ahead of me. Most of what I have left will probably just be different versions of the things I’ve already done. 

But, maybe that’s not so bad. 

‘til the next slice. 

Thanks so much laynie I love you.