Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, this chick had a tongue stud. Blood rushed south with embarrassing haste and I shifted my stance, thinking twice about the cream puff. I didn’t usually have such a visceral reaction to a pretty girl, but this one…damn. Maybe I needed to be worried about satisfying a different kind of sweet tooth.
“Did you actually need something, or were you planning on standing there and staring all afternoon?” The girl cocked a hip at me and crossed her arms over her chest, the bag with the cream puff dangling from one hand. I rubbed the corner of my mouth with one finger, trying to forget about the length of her hair or that flicker of silver.
I cleared my throat. “I do. That’s my cream puff.”
“Excuse me?” Whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t that.
I pointed helpfully at the bag. “That cream puff right there…it’s mine.”
“No, it is not. I just bought this cream puff.” She made to push by me, but I didn’t give way and she stopped again, so close I could feel the warmth pouring off of her skin.
“No, ma’am. It’s definitely mine. You see, I come in here every afternoon after practice for a sugar fix, and that there cream puff is my fix of choice.”
Her grin was all teeth and mockery. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to start getting here earlier. I can see myself making a habit of this.”
“No can do. Baseball practice ‘til three.”
She rolled her eyes. “Jocks.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I take it you don’t like athletes?”
“Do I like douches who think they’re God’s gift to women and cream puffs everywhere? Hard pass. Look, I have some work to do if you don’t mind. Or even if you do —”
“I have a proposition for you.” I talked fast. The cream puff wasn’t that important, but it was an avenue to this girl who was twisting me inside out with nothing more than sass and salt. A necessary avenue, judging from her elaborate yawn. “I’ll pay you for it, buy you a cup of coffee, and we’ll split it.” I gestured toward a table in the corner, a little apart from the crowd. “Over there.” She opened her mouth, already shaking her head, and I rushed on. “We don’t even have to talk. We’ll just share space.”
She stared at me a long minute before shaking her head and flouncing toward the table. “Fine. Your wig’s a little loose, but you can get me a cappuccino, extra sugar.”
“One cappuccino, coming up.”
The girl had her books stacked on the table, several multi-colored pens lined neatly up next to their spines and was bent over a notebook when I brought her cappuccino and seated myself opposite her. She had already sliced the cream puff down the middle, placing the halves on two separate napkins. With a grunt, she pushed mine towards me.
I ducked my head to hide my smile. This girl. She grunted at me!
“What’s your name?”
The purple pen in her hand paused. “You’re speaking. That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Oh, sorry. Here you go.” I tossed a five on the table. “For the cream puff.” She ignored it and kept writing. I allowed the silence to hold court for several minutes, save for the scratch of her pen on the paper. When I judged enough time had elapsed, I spoke again. “I can’t keep calling you ‘the girl’ in my head.”
“Why do you need to call me anything?”
“Because.” I waited until I had her attention. “If I’m going to tell my mom I found the girl I’m going to marry, I’d best know her name.”
That got her attention. She narrowed her eyes at me. “You have a really high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”
I puffed my chest out. “I’m a treat enjoyed by many,” I returned humbly.
“And he just keeps going.”
“You going to tell me your name? I’m Hayes. Hayes Ellison.”
“And I’m Bond. James Bond.”
I clasped my hands to my chest. “Shot to the heart.”
She snorted and started gathering her things, stuffing them into the satchel-like bag on the floor. “And on that note, I think I’ll be going. It’s been…interesting meeting you, Hayes Ellison.”
I liked the way she said my name, all elongated vowels and throaty tone. I couldn’t wait to hear her say a few other things. But wait…
I stood, almost knocking the chair over. “Wait! You’re really not going to tell me your name?”
“Nope.” She turned to leave, then flashed me another cheeky grin over her shoulder. “If you’re motivated enough, you’ll figure it out.”
“Hey.” I waited until she paused and turned her face back to mine, a hint of humor lingering in its lines, and before she could react lifted my phone and snapped a photo. “I’ll be seeing you, Smalls.”
“Some days I wake up
and all I feel
are the fractures
in the flesh
that covers
the only me
I’ve ever known.”
Tyler Knott Gregson
November 19 │Birdie
A FEW DAYS LATER, I HAD MOM DROP ME OFF ON CAMPUS. I wanted to wander around, see if anything was familiar. I wasn’t sure what the catalyst was, unless it was Hayes taking me to an old haunt, but I’d started to have flashes of what I hoped were memories. There was an indistinct image of a lecture hall that kept popping into my head, another of what I assumed to be a dorm room, decorated with endless photos on the wall and fairy lights. There was a woman’s face, gamine and laughing. She had pink in her hair, and something told me we knew each other well, but that was all.
These memories felt close, though. Right under the surface of my ability to recall. I hoped that visiting the campus would help jog something.
I started with the same shop Hayes had taken me to just a few days ago. I knew I had history here.
There was a girl on the small wooden stage tucked into an adjacent dining area, strumming a guitar and crooning low. A couple sat at the table I’d shared with Hayes a few days ago. A guy sat close to the stage with a guitar case and attention fixed on the girl singing. A few other people were scattered here and there, but she didn’t seem aware of the people around her, instead singing for her own pleasure. I stood just inside the door for a few minutes, watching her.
“She’s good, huh?”
The question came from my left and I half-turned to see a guy sitting at a table near the window. Even seated he was obviously tall, with brown hair tipped with gold and gray eyes. I studied him, trying to figure out if we knew each other.
“She is,” I finally answered. “Do you know her?”
“Nah. I just happened to be in here.” He pushed the chair across from his out with his foot. “Have a seat.”
“Ah…” I thought about declining and mentally shrugged. Why not? I needed to meet some people. I didn’t remember any of my old acquaintances. “Sure. I’m just going to get a chai.”
I ordered a decaf chai latte and watched him out of the corner of my eye. He had a stack of books spread out around him in a messy pile, and part of me was desperate to organize it. I had noticed that my own bedroom was fiercely ordered, the books on the bookcase in alphabetical order according to author’s last name, everything pin straight and in its place.