This was the first real time I was meeting with Miss Polakoff outside of our morning car rides together. I was actually surprised when she openly invited me to her most favorite Italian restaurant in the entire city. Who would have thought that simple car rides would eventually lead me into having somebody inviting me out to some fancy restaurant?
When she told me the name of the place I looked it up, and instantly felt like I didn’t belong there, long before actually setting foot inside. The restaurant was covered in elegant, white drapers that reached the floor from the ceiling. All of the servers were dressed in pristine suits and dresses. The entire mood felt like a romantic getaway to Italy. Just from looking at the pictures submitted online by people who left constant five-star reviews, I could already tell that I was going to be the odd one out.
And the best I had in my closet was a pair of lightly shredded black jeans, a plain, white button-up, and my usual black hoodie on top.
Real classy, Ari, real classy.
Whenever I thought about my appearance Miss Polakoff always came to mind; her sense of style was unmatched and flawless. Every dress she wore always hugged the curves on her body, but she was still able to move around so free and easily. Suits gave her a more professional and suave look, almost intimidating as if I wasn’t allowed to look at her. She could wear anything and make it look expensive and high-class.
The more I thought about Miss Polakoff, the more I wondered why she kept being so nice to me. She was a complete stranger who randomly helped me get to class a couple of times. She’s never asked for anything in return, and has never said she couldn’t drive me to work one day. When I look at her, all I see is somebody who has their entire life already set in front of them and knows how to get what she wants. It’s funny, really. She’s spent more time trying to know me then most guys my age…
Who would have thought that one of the best people I’ve ever met was almost twice my age?
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Copyright © 2021 by Luka Tatsujo
Luka's Notebooks 