I nearly crossed my arms so I could stand back and just listen to whatever he was gonna go off on her with, so I was completely unprepared when he said, "Sorry, Delia, Lex and I already have plans."
"We do?" I said in surprise at the same time that Delia said, "Lex? Lex who?"
I absently wondered if the woman had long nails because the way she said my name made me want to cover my face so she wouldn't scratch my eyes out. I actually found myself smiling at my own ridiculous joke.
“Lex Luthor,” Gideon said to Delia. To me he firmly insisted, “We do. Don't you remember?"
I shook my head. "No, no, I don't."
"So, you're free," Delia quickly interjected.
"No, I'm not free. Lex, we really need to get your memory checked. Remember, you asked me to show you how to ice fish before the lakes around here thaw too much?"
"Um, no… the only thing I remember you mentioning is that I should meet Mr. Mulvaney so he could spi—"
"So, yeah, Delia, Lex and I have plans to go ice fishing on Sunday."
I nearly began to laugh when Gideon squeezed my arm hard. Not hard enough to hurt, but to send a message.
"Right, ice fishing," I said. "I've always wanted to see fish swimming in… the ice. Well, not see, literally," I added, barely able to restrain myself. "But Gideon here has promised to describe them to me."
"He's going to describe fish to you?" Delia asked in confusion.
"Yes," Gideon and I said at the same exact time. "Because the fish here in Maine are known to be more… colorful than the ones from… where Lex comes from," Gideon clarified.
"That's right," I agreed. "Gideon tells me your fish are… gray?"
"And brown," Gideon added. "So you see, Delia, I just can't make it for pancakes on Sunday. You should give that ticket to someone else."
"But Gideon," Delia said with a pout in her voice before pushing herself between me and Gideon. "I was so looking forward to our date." The way the woman purred, I figured she was likely rubbing herself all over Gideon. I was actually glad I couldn't see that particular display. If I could have walked away, I would have. As it was, I was feeling pretty salty. It was the only explanation for what I said next.
"Gideon, weren’t you just telling me that Mr. Mulvaney was looking for a date for that event?" I tried to keep a straight face as Delia, and probably Gideon too, turned their attention to me. Delia let out a little huff, and then she was saying something, finally, in a softer voice. I was kind of glad I couldn't hear what she had to say to Gideon.
"Sorry, Delia," Gideon responded. "I don't know what to tell you." Then he was back at my side and slipping my hand through his arm. As much as I would've liked to have called it a win, I knew it wasn't. Gideon was merely using me to escape the clinging Delia, but not exactly in the way I would've liked. I let him lead me away from the woman, trying very hard to shake off the lingering jealousy I was feeling. I knew nothing about Gideon and Delia's relationship. For all I knew, they could have currently been in some kind of physical relationship and Delia was trying to turn it into something more. I wondered if it was a question I could ask now that we were in the friend zone. But when I opened my mouth, I instantly snapped it shut again. It wasn't worth the risk of losing him. I still had a few weeks at the cabin and the idea of spending them completely by myself no longer appealed to me like it had when I’d booked the place.
"Fish are more colorful here?" I asked with a laugh.
"Shut up," Gideon sniped. "I'm not good under pressure."
I laughed again. "I think she bought it," I offered. Gideon told me to shut up again, which just had me laughing harder. By the time we reached the part of the store that sold groceries, I was feeling more relaxed and was able to focus when Gideon began explaining the layout of the place. He took his time walking me through each department and encouraged me to feel the different areas like the refrigerated and freezer sections to get my bearings. We spent nearly thirty minutes exploring the sections before we even began to shop. Gideon helped me pick out the different kinds of food I wanted and reminded me to use my other senses when it came to things like smelling the fruits and vegetables.
The mere act of being able to identify some broccoli had been like I'd scored a touchdown. Again, it was a far cry from the life I’d lived, but it was yet another task I could do alone. Even if I always needed someone to escort me to the store, which I didn't think I would, there were still other parts of me that were working well enough to help me do things like buy food.
By the time we reached the checkout line, the grocery cart was heavy with items. As we waited our turn, I remembered something I hadn't mentioned to Gideon. I turned to him and said, "I actually need some wound cream."
"Why? Did you hurt yourself? Is it your feet? Did the cuts from the glass get infected?" The barrage of questions had me smiling and I found myself reaching out to put my hand on Gideon's arm. I was surprised when I actually hit the mark, though I got his forearm rather than his bicep.
"Yes, it's for the cuts on my feet, but they're not infected. I've been treating them every day this week just to be on the safe side, but I ran out of the wound cream that I brought with me. It's just a precaution," I said.
"Oh, okay," he said. He sounded relieved.
It's the friend-obligation thing, I reminded myself.
"Are you okay with staying here while I run to get it?" Gideon asked.
Since we were next in line, I figured I could handle it, so I said, "Yeah, I'm good."
"Okay, I'll be right back." Then Gideon was gone and I was left alone with the cart. I kept my fingers on it so I wouldn't lose my bearings. I could hear the cashier and the patron ahead of me talking, so I knew the woman was done checking out. Gideon and I had already laid out our items on the belt, so I moved the cart forward when the cashier, a young-sounding kid, greeted me. To my surprise, he didn't seem to even notice my condition because he quickly scanned the groceries and then asked me if I had any coupons. There were no questions about whether or not I was really blind, and he didn't do that thing where he spoke overly loud as if I couldn’t hear him if he spoke normally.
"No," I said. "But my friend went to get one more item. Some wound cream from aisle seven," I added. I knew I was rambling a bit, because surely the kid didn't care what item I was waiting for.
"Aisle seven?" the kid said.
Then another voice, that of an older man, said, "I’d better go look for him." He sounded exasperated. "That boy done lived here most of his life. Stanley Goldfinch told me last week that he saw Mouse lingering in that aisle. That boy’s up to no good, I tell ya. He knows aisle seven ain’t where we keep the creams."
"It's not?" I asked in surprise. I wasn't sure who the guy was, but he spoke with an air of authority. And he clearly knew Gideon. Maybe Gideon had just gotten the aisle number wrong when he’d mentioned that he’d been looking at Merv's for cream a week earlier.
"No, aisle seven is where we keep—" the kid began to say, but then the older man coughed loudly.