She was right. It was incredible. I make my way to one of the tables while she orders us a couple of cups of coffee. I can’t believe my eyes. It’s a store to rival all other stores—a bookstore, a coffee shop, an art house, a library, a Hallmark store, and apparently, a popular local hangout. I was impressed. I was intrigued. I was robbed of my little used bookstore.
Ginny finally makes her way back over to me and Aubrey. I gingerly take a sip of my coffee, “Mmm...Wow! This sure is different from our little pot of Community Mona always had at the ready.” It’s delicious, but I long for simpler times.
We chat for a while, enjoying our coffee and grown up time while Aubrey is passed out. She tells me of her latest drama with Aubrey’s dad and her new boyfriend. I tell her I don’t understand why she and Jimbo don’t just get back together. It is obvious to everyone that they are destined to be together. She insists that, while that may be obvious to everyone else, it is obvious to her that Jimbo is, was, and always will be a piece of shit. I absolutely adore the fact that Ginny never minces words. She says what she means and means what she says; therefore, I now consider the case forever closed. She doesn’t do fickle.
“So are you seeing anyone?” she asks.
“No, I wish I had time to date. Things are just crazy,” I reply, giving her the standard acceptable answer.
“When’s the last time you had a boyfriend or even a date for that
matter?” She asks pointedly.
“Um…It’s been…a while,” I hedge. Thankfully, Ginny turns our conversation to less awkward topics, and I get caught up on the latest gossip surrounding people I haven’t thought about in a long time.
We agree to take turns checking out the book selection since Aubrey is still asleep, so I make my way back to my rows and rows of used books. This is what I had come for. I plan to spend most of break catching up on my “fluff” reading. As an English major, I never have time to read anything I want to read, which, of course, is the ultimate in irony. There is always a reading assignment lurking. I am a voracious reader, but I am really tired of being told what to read and forcing myself to analyze all the little details when all I really want to do is just devour something for the sheer joy that reading for escapism provides.
Surprisingly, I find myself toting around some books that I had already read a time or two mixed in with a couple of others that look they had been read quite a bit, which is a good indication that I won’t be disappointed. Because my reading time is always so limited, I decide to reread a couple of my “sure things.” Getting some good stories in before tackling my final semester is crucial to my mental health. I sp
end way too long deciding, so I hurry back to Ginny.
On my wa
y back to our table, I spot it. On one of the greeting card shelves, sits a drawing I would know anytime, anyplace.
No way!
It's like the card has a tractor beam fixated on me because before I know it, I'm standing directly in front of it with my mouth hanging wide open. I snap it shut and glance around to see if anyone noticed my weirdness. I don't see anyone staring at me, so I continue my mission. I lay my books haphazardly on top of the shelf in my eagerness to confirm who has designed the cards. As I reach down to examine one more closely, all my finds tumble to the floor. I hear Ginny tsk from across the room. I roll my eyes at her and bend to pick them all up. By the time I have them gathered and stacked properly, she is standing next to me explaining how she’s going to book shop another time because she really needs to get out of there and get some things done.
I nod, barely aware of what she is saying. I pick up one of the cards and study it. It is be
autiful, and I know this rose. I imagine it falling out of my locker during freshman year. I wince as I remember crumpling it up with frustration. If it isn’t his, I will be completely shocked. If it is his, I will still be completely shocked. The last I’d heard he had gone to jail for a DUI and had been written off by everyone as trash just like his daddy. I pray that is his, though, and that he’s sharing his talent. Finally, I turn it over and gasp. I am in awe. I am so impressed by this little card that I can’t speak for a moment. Tears have pooled in my eyes.
I blink them away and look at Ginny to ask if she knows who had designed the card. She shakes her head. I whisper, “It’s Michael’s. How in the world?”
“Michael? Oh, Bang?! Oh, right. I heard he was drawing and designing stuff. I didn’t know he was making cards too. That’s cool.”
“It’s more than cool. It’s amazing,” I reply fervently. “Do you have any idea what this means? I mean, I know it may not seem like much; but it’s actually a huge deal. It means he’s taking steps to straighten out his life, or he has straightened it out.”
I can hear the awe and wonder in my voice, but it can't be helped. I am reeling from the implications of this. I had resigned myself to the fact that he would probably turn out like every other guy from my town and that had been that. Now look. Wow! Just wow. I feel tears spring to my eyes again. I know we aren’t close anymore, but I can’t help the immense amount of pride I feel for him. He deserves every bit of happiness he can wring out of life. He’s the most deserving person I’ve ever known.
“I didn’t even realize ya’ll were friends.”
“Yeah, we were,” I mumble distractedly. “That was before you and I met. I was in eighth and ninth grade. He used to be my best friend, but we lost touch.” I give her a very simplified version of our very complicated history.
There were ten cards on the shelf. There are now ten cards in my hand. I didn’t even check to see how much they cost. I head to the register.
I hear Ginny laughing behind me and she says, “Hey, spaz, you left your books over here on the shelf.”
“Oh yeah, let me go put some back. I want to get these cards too, but I don’t have enough money for everything.”
We make our way back to the register so that one of the new faces can ring me up. As she totals up my purchase, she volunteers, “Hey, you know he’s playing here tomorrow night, right?”
“Who?” I ask. I give her what I’m sure is an annoyed look because I am lost in my memories at present. Just ring me up and be done with me already so that I can get back to my daydreaming.
“The guy who designed these cards. Mike Bang. I figured you’d be interested since you bought so many.” She is looking at me like I am some kind of psycho or, worse, not from around here.
“What do you mean ‘playing here’?” I ask. Now, I am truly intrigued. I haven’t heard his name said out loud in years, and I wasn’t quite sure what
to make of the effect that the invocation of it just had on my body.
“Mona features singer/songwriters every weekend after hours. She calls it her ‘Create Café’ because she loves to give undiscovered artists a shot,” she giggles at her coffee house pun.
I already know the answer to my next question but am curious to know what others think about him; so I ask, “Is he any good?”
She breaks a huge grin out. “Oh, yeah! He’s super talented and,” she leans in to whisper, fanning herself, “super cute!”
“So, you said he’s playing here tomorrow night,” I say with sudden interest in conversing with her. “What time?”
Chapter Three
The Joke’s on Me
I remember leaving the store and getting in the car and saying goodbye to Ginny and Aubrey. But pretty much everything after that is a blur. I’m pretty sure I ate and hung out with my fam
ily a little. I remember a drab game of Clue in which I, very uncharacteristically, did not win. I’m lying in bed now, so I must’ve had a shower and readied myself for bed. I have been so preoccupied with thoughts of Michael that I have been on autopilot all evening.
I stare at each of the cards one at time, poring over and analyzing every little detail. Of the ten, there are four different designs. The rest are various copies of the four. In my haste, I didn’t even notice that they weren’t all unique. Each of the four roses is quite unique, though. I suddenly recall how Michael had never drawn me the same rose twice. His very mood decided the type of rose I would receive.
It had been so very long since I’d held one of his roses in my hand. It had been so very long since I’d even seen him. Our last conversation comes flooding back to me, and I push the memory away violently. It wasn’t a favorable one.
Instead, I search for a different memory. A peculiar one springs to mind. One that I had never really reconciled. Sometimes, I marvel at the way my scheming mind used to work. Even with all my scheming, though, things always had a way of backfiring on me.
Because Michael was on to me and so much wiser, he had loved every minute of my torture. I didn’t think it was very funny at the time, but I can laugh about it now. I will never forget the look on Stacy’s parents’ faces when I set her and Michael up to go on a double date with me and Tony. It was so ridiculous that it was absolutely priceless.
Michael had actually backed off of his constant hounding of me to go out with him. We had become friends again—even best friends. This was how I loved us. He was my confidant, my rock, my everything. But every time he pushed, I fled. He hadn’t pushed in forever. I was ecstatic, yet I was desolate. Was he finally over me? I decided to test him, so I offered to fix him up with Stacy. He accepted without blinking or seeming to think twice. I throw my head back on my pillow as I allow the memory to take me back.
Michael met me after biology and offered to carry my books for me. I shrugged him off and said, “You know it would be cool if we could hang out more without arousing Tony's suspicions. He doesn’t get the whole ‘best guy friend thing.’ Why don’t you go out on a double date with us? I could invite Stacy?”
“Sure, OK. Why not?” he said nonchalantly.
Something inside me protested and my stomach churned; but instead of giving a voice to all of that, I said, “Cool. I’ll set it all up. Friday?”
“Yeah, OK.”
That was easy, I thought. He really must be over me. He didn’t even flinch or protest like he had when I had pressured him to date in the past. Stacy was going through her rebellious phase, so I knew a date with Michael would seem like the perfect ammunition to start a good fight with her parents, but she might also like Michael. He was unpredictable enough to challenge her, and she would like that.
Friday night rolled around. My mom would only let me go out on double dates since I was only in ninth grade, so I was not allowed in
Tony's car alone with him. Tony picked Michael up first, and then they came to my house. I heard Tony blow his horn, so I started outside. As I put my hand to the door, the doorbell chimed. It was Michael. He looked adorable. He wore all white with a skinny, loosely knotted turquoise tie. His sleeves were rolled up. The first two buttons were undone so that his pewter cross was visible. The all white was in direct contrast to his dark skin. I’d never seen him dressed up before. I told him how cute I thought he looked. If his dark brown skin could’ve blushed, I know his cheeks would’ve been pink. “What?!” I said. “I can think my friend looks adorable, can’t I?!”
He gave me the quintessential teenager reply, “Whatever.”
I noticed that Tony was still sitting in the car as I was shutting the door. I said, “Don’t say it. I know.”
“Know what?” he asked.
“Know that Tony's a jerk.” I laughed nervously because bashing my current boyfriend had gotten us dangerously close to trouble one time before. “Anyway, I’m only dating him until Homecoming and then we’re breaking up.”
“‘We’re breaking up’? Sounds like you’re breaking up,” he replied with a cocked eyebrow.
I shrugged.“Yeah, I know. It’s just inevitable. I know he’s not the boy for me so why prolong it.”
“That’s exactly what I told you two weeks ago,” he reminded me sardonically.
I just raised my eyebrow as a response since we were now within hearing range. Michael opened my door for me and hopped in the back.
When we got to Stacy’s,
Tony's chivalry had unexpectedly revived itself. He opened my door, and we all went in to get her. I entered first and called for Stacy. Her parents must’ve heard me because they quickly joined us in the living room. I watched their faces go from composed to shocked to horrified and back to composed in the space of about 3.5 seconds. I actually had to turn my head to keep from laughing aloud. As I did, I caught Michael’s eye, and I actually got kind of pissed as I realized the reality of their disdain. Did Michael notice? If he did, did it bother him? I was beginning to regret my impulsiveness in setting up this experimental double date.
They had collected themselves enough to introduce themselves. By that time, Stacy had joined us. She looked positively pleased with herself. I pursed my lips and silently begged her with my eyes to get us out of there.
Her parents began asking the usual questions. Where are ya’ll going? What time will the girls be home? Etcetera, etcetera. Then, out of nowhere, Michael, what is your family background, son? I turned to look at Michael. Who very calmly stated, “American Indian—Choctaw, sir. And yours?”
When he said this, Stacy and I both lost it. I needn’t have worried about Michael. He was perfectly capable of holding his own. Her parents shot us a dirty look. And, Stacy’s dad answered with all seriousness, “Irish.”
As we’re heading out of the house, I hear Stacy murmur, “Thanks. That’s exactly the reaction I’d hoped for.” They shared a laugh, and I fumed. I had no idea why it ticked me off so much that they had bonded over that moment; but from that moment on, I found myself stealing glances at them. Well. Didn’t they seem to be hitting it right off? I couldn’t fathom what she saw in him. I couldn’t fathom what he saw in her. This was supposed to be a little experiment. I never really thought that it would actually go this far and that they might actually like each other. At this point, all I really wanted to do was punch both of them in the face, and I didn’t even really know why!