I trap my lips with my teeth, but I’m sure my tentative smile is still noticeable. “That’s, umm, unique.” In closer proximity, it’s even more . . . unique. It’s a sad-looking bouquet if you can call it that. The roses aren’t exactly in their prime, and that’s putting it mildly. And what’s that? There are little red paper – what are those? Masts? Laced together with the depleted flowers. Intertwined with the flowers are little flags, red flags. On closer inspection, I see that each flag has something scribbled on it.
I lift my eyes to Liam in question because the rare composition begs for some sort of clarification for those of a lesser artistic imagination.
“In one of our first emails you mentioned that you wished people came with warning signs,” he says and gestures with his hands at the flowers. My own smile grows wider. “My red flags, Anna.”
Suddenly the tragedy of the bouquet becomes the most beautiful thing. Okay, it’s not beautiful, it’s still. . . unique, but I absolutely adore it.
“I love it,” I tell him. “Where did you get these flags from?” I gently ruffle the paper masts.
“My nephew’s birthday. It was one of those decorations chain things. I borrowed a few.”
“Creative,” I say to my tea, my smiling eyes directed at Liam.
He nods in a casual, “thanks.” He has this self-assurance about him, but not of the smug variety, it’s an unassuming one. The kind of confidence of someone who knows his value but doesn’t flaunt it.
Among the ill-looking roses which Liam explained were purchased at one of those twenty-four hours gas station stores, I look for Liam’s red flags. He eats his avocado toast, watching me as I read the writing on the flags. A bit of a challenge. Doctors’ bad handwriting, apparently not a myth. I train my attention on the “warning signs.”
Stubborn
Very little free time
Career driven
Disturbingly meticulous
Leaves socks everywhere
No commitment in the foreseeable future
“What’s up with the socks everywhere situation?” I ask next.
His side smile appears. He puts the toast back on the plate next to a twin one. “That’s what you’re most concerned about?”
I eye the other toast; it looks so delicious. Lifting my eyes back to Liam, I say, “I’m just trying to understand how severe the socks everywhere situation is.”
“I prefer bare feet and I just tend to take off my socks whenever I can. I always forget to take them with me. It drives my roommate crazy.”
“You guys sound like an old married couple,” I say and unthinkingly reach for the untouched toast and take a bite.
Liam chuckles, gesturing with his hand at the other toast as in “why not?” I bring my hand to cover my full mouth, saying, “Oops, sorry not sorry.”
He shakes his head, seeming to find me cute. “Nothing to be sorry about, it’s damn good toast. Help me finish these and we’ll share a dessert.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Winter or summer?” Liam asks out of nowhere.
I chuckle in surprise. “That’s random.”
He shrugs with a smile that makes my smile grow a little wider. “Neither. Autumn.”
He nods in what seems to be approval.
“So, um. I brought you something too,” I send my hand to my shopping tote. I feel much less hesitant and silly to give him this thing I made for him just before leaving home, what with the lovely bouquet of warning signs. “In one of your emails, you mentioned that you should get recognition for your outstanding achievement—” I pull out the printed document and give it to Liam.
Certificate of Remarkable Achievement
This Acknowledges That
Liam Brody
Is Anna’s number one e-person
He reads the page and raises his eyes to mine for a beaming encounter. For a long stretch, he looks at me, like he’s considering me in a way. After a pause, he says, “I think, I’m going to make it my goal to be Anna’s number one person off and online.”
Till this morning all I had was a 2D image and a wealth of personality I grew to cherish and value and even got attached to. Now, I have the 3D flesh and blood version and it’s so much more. I mirror his stare, thinking to myself, I think you might just be capable of achieving that. “Are you sure you’re up to it? It sounds like quite a commitment,” is what I actually say. I raise the “thou shalt not commit” little flag and fiddle with it for him to see.
He grins a bright grin. Looking like he finds me . . . worthy. He murmurs something under his breath, something that sounds like touché.
13 Hours of Sleep, a Good Shower, Fresh Coffee, and a Newspaper. Saturday, You Babe.
It’s been gone – what? Two hours? Yet, I still get these spikes of excitement now and then. And if I’m being honest here, I might still be a tad bewildered by the fact that Anna – my online – Anna, is the beauty from Poison. And she’s as awesome in person as she was in the virtual realm.
Looks like God’s on my side on this one. God and the entire damn universe. Because . . . damn!
I take a drink of coffee, my eyes trained on Anna as I listen to her attentively. She goes on about the studio she teaches at, telling me how she might buy it if she gets approved for a loan. Involuntarily, she lets out an “amen” under her breath that makes my smile tip up a little more. Her eyes shine with excitement, radiating just how passionate she’s about it. And she looks so damn beautiful. Hardly any makeup, hair up, revealing that beauty mark at the side of her neck that’s teasing me. She has pinkish plump lips that got me nearly drooling. And her eyes, a bewitching dark blue of endless expressions. She has this urgency about her when she talks in a charming neurotic way, yet at times, she’s the damn poster girl for zen. Especially when she listens to you talk, acting as if you are the only person in the room.
She’s something else.
“Saturday or Sunday?” she asks abruptly.
I inwardly shake myself out of my gazing spell. “Saturday,” I recover quickly. “There’s still another day to the weekend.”
She traps a smile with her teeth. “Okay, I got to—” she gestures toward the toilets, then the same hand motions at the few empty cups we’ve consumed in explanation.
I nod with a smile. My eyes don’t leave her departing back till she disappears behind the door. I check my watch. If this were a simple “coffee” we’d probably say goodbye right about now, if not an hour or so ago. I don’t want that to happen. I get the check before she returns while thinking up excuses to make this thing last longer.
“Let’s get the check,” she casually suggests, coming back.
“Done,” I say.
“Next time’s on me,” she says, slinging her cross body bag over her shoulder.
I grin cheekily, eyeing her with my head cocked. “There will be a next time?”
“Do you even have a doubt?” she says with an immense amount of confidence.
My stomach does a funny thing, but I keep the telltale feeling under the surface and smirk instead, widely.