What We Share Over Pita at Boutros

Eva is sitting in her high chair, quietly dozing off in the dimly lit Boutros, while the rest of the adults sit around the long communal table by the kitchen, deep in conversation, catching up about our lives. This is the first time we were getting back together since our friends Katie and Ian had moved back to Chicago and given birth to Eva. 

I sit next to Katie like I did at my first job after my year of service with AmeriCorps NCCC FEMA Corps program. Boutros was one of Katie and Ian’s favorite spots when they used to live in Carroll Gardens. Every time they come back, they always request to have dinner there and we almost always order the same dishes. With familiar faces at the table, we lean in close and talk endlessly about our days at a job we all loved, over the fresh pita straight from the hearth that we dip into sweet honey labneh, miso baba ganoush, and a savory mushroom hummus.

Steam drifts out of the pita as we tear it apart and pass pieces around, swapping stories and little highlights from our lives. We reminisce about everything at once: the Halloween when we made our own We Got Y’all t-shirts from Insecure, the day Katie brought her cat, Pancake, to the office and she gets stuck in the vents but saved by Marina, and the late nights in the office that usually ended with us drinking the leftover Trader Joe’s wine. 

By the time the plates clear, some pita remains, no longer warm but still soft to the touch as we continue to pass it around. Eva tilts her head gently to one side, untouched by the chatter around her, asleep as we linger just a little longer.