Wish You Were Here

by Renee Carlino

  We turned a corner and I looked up just in time to see a guy standing directly in front of us with his head down, staring at something written on his palm. “ ’Scuse us,” I muttered, trying to navigate around him, but he was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, holding a bag full of what looked like Chinese takeout.

  “Yum, is that Chinese food?” Helen asked.

  The guy looked up at her strangely and then looked down at the bag in his hand. He was wearing shorts, flip-flops, and a black hoodie, which shadowed his eyes. Not the most fashion-conscious outfit. “Oh this? Yeah, it is. Are you hungry?”

  I started pulling Helen forward. “Come on,” I whispered. “You can’t eat some random guy’s Chinese food on the street.”

  She stumbled but caught herself before falling over.

  The man walked to her other side. “Let me help you,” he said.

  “No, no, we’re fine,” I protested, but Helen had already slung her arm around his shoulder. She reached up and pulled his hood back, and he turned toward her, nonplussed, his striking brown eyes wide with curiosity. He was undeniably good-looking, and would be in anyone’s book. “I’m Adam,” he said. “Let me help you.”

  “Nice to meet you, Adam. I’m Trixie and that’s Dottie. I think we got this.” I said.

  Adam grinned. Two deep dimples punctuated his cheeks. “Trixie and Dottie, for real?”

  “Yep,” I said curtly.

  Helen rolled her eyes. “That’s Charlotte and I’m Helen.”

  I elbowed her in the ribs. She leaned in and whispered, “He has Chinese food and he’s cute.” She said the last part a little too loud, which made Adam smile.

  “Adam, do you live around here?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I live on Molina.”

  “Why were you headed in the opposite direction then?”

  He looked straight ahead so I couldn’t see his face. “I must’ve gotten flipped around.”

  I looked at him curiously. Maybe he’s new to the neighborhood? That would explain why I haven’t seen him around.

  “You wanna eat at our apartment?” Helen slurred.

  “That’s okay,” Adam said. “I’ll just walk you to your place.”

  “It’s right up here.” I pointed to the steps leading to the front door of our building. “This is good here; I’ll get her up the rest of the way.”

  He stopped, looked at the side of our building, and crooked his head. “Ahhh, man, I love that mural. It’s like wolves dancing in a bed of flowers.”

  I followed his gaze to the large, abstract mural that took up the whole side of our building in a riot of grays, pinks, oranges, and blues.

  “We always thought those streaks were blood,” Helen said, making sweeping motions with her hand.

  “That’s a pretty gruesome interpretation. Those are pink and red flowers, obviously,” he countered. “Their beauty is meant to emphasize the equally wild beauty of the wolves.”

  I tipped my head and squinted. “Now that you mention it, they do look like flowers. But why are the wolves angry if they’re dancing in a field of flowers?”

  “Maybe they’re allergic,” Helen offered.

  “Who says they’re angry?” Adam replied. “The flowers are rising up from the ground to embrace them. To me, they look happy.”

  I stared at him as he stared at the mural, completely transfixed. Silence washed over us as we stood in the street, two best friends and a stranger sharing an oddly sincere moment together.

  “Well, it was nice meeting you, Adam,” I said, gently breaking our collective daze. “Thanks for your help.”

  “No problem. It was nice to meet you, ladies.” He nodded at us, gave a little wave, and headed up the street. But as we turned and made our way up the stairs, we heard Adam call out, “Oh, I almost forgot!” He jogged back toward us, pulling a take-out container from his plastic bag. “Here, I told you I’d share.” He held the little carton out to me and looked into my eyes with total sincerity. He pushed his thick, wavy brown hair back with his other hand, and I felt something pull within me.

  “That’s okay.”

  “No, we’ll take it!” Helen swatted at the box, ripping it from Adam’s grasp.

  He chuckled at her and then turned his attention back to me. I couldn’t pull my gaze from his, from that face full of kindness, those eyes that turned down slightly at the corners, giving him a slightly sad air. I should’ve felt uncomfortable, but I didn’t.

  You know when you’re looking at someone and you can’t help but smile at how oblivious they are to their own charm? That’s what was happening to me, and it was making me feel . . . happy. Euphoric. Something indescribable. It was like we already knew each other, like we had met in a previous life. Memories that didn’t exist began exploding in my mind like fireworks.

  I smiled at him; he smiled back. There was some sort of affinity between us, but I didn’t know where it was coming from, exactly. I didn’t know this guy half an hour ago, but now I needed to know him.

  He glanced past me at the mural, and then he searched my eyes, squinting. “Have we met before?” he asked. Is he feeling it, too?

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “But you seem so familiar to me.”

  “I know, right?” I said with conviction.

  He reached out for a handshake, the whole time never taking his eyes off mine. “Maybe we both have familiar faces.”

  “Like, average faces?” I asked.

  “Yours is anything but average.” I felt that same pull again. I let him shake my hand for an unusually long time while he continued studying me. He turned it over, palm up, and ran his index finger across it. “Long life line,” he said.

  “Thanks. I think.” If he wasn’t so adorable and if I wasn’t feeling the magnetism so fiercely, I’m sure my subconscious would have been screaming, Is this guy a serial killer?

  Helen yawned audibly and I realized Adam and I were just standing there, staring at each other in a trance.

  “Bye, Adam,” I whispered.

  His kind eyes crinkled. “Bye, Charlotte.”

  I swallowed and pulled my hand out of his. After he turned to head down the street, Helen said, “What on earth was that?”

  “What do you mean?” I was still blinking out of my trancelike state.

  “He could have impregnated you with that look.”

  I jogged up the stairs to our apartment. “Yeah, he was kinda . . .”

  “Hot!” Helen blurted.

  I was going to say strange, even though I liked that about him.

  She went on. “Did you see the way he looked at the mural?”

  “Yeah, I thought it was sweet.”

  Helen stood near the door, waiting for me to unlock it. “You should have asked him out. I would have been all over that guy if he looked at me like that.”

  “Too late, I guess.”

  Once inside, Helen hopped up on the countertop, which sat in front of the sliding glass door that led to a small balcony overlooking the front of our building. She tore open the Chinese takeout box and began eating directly from it with the chopsticks Adam had given her.

  “I can’t believe you’re eating that,” I said from the couch.

  “It’s delicious!” she mumbled through a mouthful of noodles.

  I rested my head against the back of the couch, closed my eyes, and yawned. “I think I’m gonna go to bed.”

  “Oh my god!”

  “What?” I turned around quickly.

  “Look, look, there he is!” Helen was pointing toward the sliding glass door.

  I popped up, slid the door open, and ran out onto the balcony. From our second-story apartment you could see all the way down to the corner, to where Adam was standing stock-still, gazing up at the street sign.

  “What’s he doing?” Helen asked, joining me on the balcony.

  “I think he’s lost.”

  “Should we help him?”

  “Adam?” I called out. He turned around and
began shuffling toward our building.

  “Now you can get his number,” Helen said under her breath.

  “Look at him, he has no idea where he is,” I said.

  “Maybe this is some weird act.”

  “Adam? Are you okay?” I shouted

  “Yeah. I haven’t lived here that long and I forgot my phone.” He was looking up at us from the street.

  Helen leaned into me. “Help him. Let him use your phone.”

  “I’ll come down and help you,” I said.

  As I was walking toward the door, Helen followed me out. “Tell him he can use your phone in exchange for a kiss.”

  “Not if you’re going to be watching us from the window, weirdo.”

  I don’t know what changed inside of me; maybe it was his sweet smile as he stared up at me like a lost puppy while clutching his Chinese food, or maybe I was tired of always being the one to sit back and watch.

  His eyes were wide when I met him on the stairs in front of the building. I held my phone out. “You want to punch your address into the GPS?”

  Taking it from my hands he said, “Yeah, thanks so much.”

  “Sure.” He handed me the Chinese food to hold as he read an address off his palm and plugged it into the maps app on my phone.

  “So you’re brand-new to the area?” I asked.

  “Uh huh, yeah . . . sorta. Okay, left, left, right three blocks, left, then right. Left, left, right three, then left, right.” He was studying the screen.

  “You live right by Bar Kenner, in those brick lofts?”

  He gave me a thumbs-up. “You got it.”

  I raised an eyebrow. Those were very expensive lofts. “That’s pretty close,” I said.

  “You go there? Bar Kenner?” he asked.

  “Yeah, Helen and I go there after work sometimes.”

  He smiled when he noticed I was staring at his mouth. “You want to go there and get a drink?”

  Oh my god, he’s asking me out. Be cool. “Sure. When?”

  “Right now?” He shrugged, revealing his dimples again. “Life’s short.”

  I took my phone back and looked at the time. It was eleven thirty. “It’s kinda late.”

  Coward! I shouted inwardly.

  “Go ahead! Go!” came a voice from above. No, it wasn’t God; it was Helen, standing on the balcony—eavesdropping, of course.

  “I’ll sweeten the deal and let you have some of my cold kung pao chicken.”

  “That’s very enticing,” I said.

  “I mean, I understand if you can’t,” he said, picking up on my hesitation. “It’s late. Rain check?”

  “Go with him!” Helen shouted.

  “Sure. Do you want my number?”

  He looked around and shoved his hands into his pockets like he was searching for a pen but coming up short. That’s when I made the decision.

  “Screw it. Let’s get a drink now. Wait here, I need to grab a sweater.”

  “I’ll be here,” he said.

  I ran back to the apartment, a huge smile on my face.

  3. Soul Affinity

  I took the stairs two at a time and burst through the door. Helen was waiting for me. “He’s precious, all doe-eyed and unassuming,” she said. I ran around searching for a sweater while she continued talking. “He must have a decent job; he’s wearing a Tag watch, and those lofts near Bar Kenner are super expensive.”

  “The watch doesn’t exactly fit his style. Maybe it was a gift?”

  “He was just running out for takeout.” She braced my shoulders, stopping me from spinning in circles. “Don’t be standoffish. This guy seems nice. Plus he’s hot. Did I mention that?”

  “Why do you and my brother insist on bringing up how standoffish I am?”

  “Because you have a pretty bad track record. It’s time to change that. Just go have a drink with him and be chill.”

  “It’s late and he’s a stranger. We just met on the street. Am I not allowed to be a little nervous?”

  “Text every five minutes if that makes you feel better. I’ll stay up. Besides, it’s only two blocks away and you’ll be in public. You’ve done way shadier stuff than this. Remember when you met that guy at the Museum of Death?”

  “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

  “Wasn’t he wearing a dog collar?”

  I was still rummaging through my closet for the perfect sweater, trying to ignore Helen. “Yes, yes he was.”

  “What was the thing about his name?”

  I laughed. “He told me his name was Atticus Danger and then I saw his ID; it said Albert Davis. Part of the skull and bones tattoo on his forearm rubbed off when I spilled my margarita on him at dinner.”

  “And you’re worried about this guy? Just take an Uber if he creeps you out that bad.”

  I gave her pistol fingers, even though I had already made up my mind. “That’s a good plan. I’ll go.”

  “I’m proud of you. You never do anything fun. Ooh, maybe you guys will bone!”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m going to have a drink. Stop pimping me out.” I hurried to the door. “If you don’t get a text from me by two a.m., file a missing persons report.”

  I heard her cackling gleefully as the door shut behind me.

  Adam watched me closely as I made my way down the stairs toward him for the second time that night. “You look lovely.”

  “I just put on a sweater.”

  “Well, you look lovely in that sweater.”

  “Thank you.”

  He took my hand in his. “Come on.”

  I pulled him the other way. “It’s this way.”

  “Oh right, ha! Just testing you.”

  I honestly didn’t know what I was thinking, leaving my house at almost midnight on a dark street, four blocks from Skid Row, with a stranger. I guess my intuition wasn’t sounding any alarms when it came to Adam.

  We found two seats at the bar and ordered the same glass of wine, so Adam suggested we get a bottle. “Why not?” I said, fully throwing caution to the wind.

  “So, Charlotte, tell me about yourself. What do you do?”

  “Well, I work at Blackbird’s, that shitty restaurant on Fourth. But I’m saving up to go to cosmetology school.”

  “Blackbird’s? The place with the Bloody Mary bar and those weird flags?”

  “That’s the one!” I said, with equal parts triumph and embarrassment.

  “Good tortilla soup, though, right?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Time to change the subject. “What about you, Adam?”

  “I used to be a lawyer, actually.”

  “A lawyer?” I didn’t expect that.

  “Yeah, corporate litigation. The really depraved kind.” He smirked.

  “What, did you find God or something?”

  “Yeah, something like that.” He reached out and touched my bottom lip with his thumb. I had been chewing the inside of my mouth, a lovely habit I acquired as a toddler. “You’re gonna chew your mouth off.”

  “I always do this.”

  “It’s cute.”

  “It’s kind of gross.”

  “You’re right, it’s disgusting,” he said, but I could tell he was kidding.

  “Hey!” I protested, and we both laughed. “So you were working as a corrupt lawyer and then you found God and quit? How do you afford that fancy Chinese take-out?”

  He stared at me intensely for a moment. “Do you want to come over?” Whoa. That was abrupt.

  “Um, what? To your house?”

  “Yeah! Do you want to have a sleepover?” He waggled his eyebrows. Oh my god, this guy is forward.

  “Honestly, that kind of freaks me out, Adam.” Truth be told, I totally wanted to have a sleepover at his house, but it was a little soon. Even by Helen’s standards.

  “Okay, we’ll just have the wine then.” He took a sip as if he were totally unfazed by my rejection. “To answer your question, I’m taking a break from work. And I paint.”

  “
Houses?”

  He laughed. “No, artwork.”

  “Oh, that kind of painter.”

  “Are you an art fan, Charlotte?”

  “Who isn’t?”

  “A lot of people, unfortunately.” He laughed. “Tell me more about your life, your family. How do you like to spend your time?”

  He watched me like he was trying to commit everything I said to memory. There were things I noticed about him as he sat there, engrossed in my ramblings. First of all, he was insanely handsome. His skin and hair were just dark enough to make the brown of his eyes seem impossibly light, and he was tall and slim while looking strong and capable all at once.

  It’s incredibly sexy when a man is as comfortable in his skin as Adam was. His motions were smooth, from the way he lifted his wineglass to his mouth to the way he gestured with his hands. There was an ease about him. And he was spontaneous and fun. It excited me.

  “My mom and dad are still happily married, living in Thousand Oaks, where I grew up. I have a little brother, Chucky, who’s in school studying to be a dentist, just like my dad. Total golden boy. He’s kind of a dick. I’m close to my mom because she gets me, but my dad has always been hypercritical, at least of me. He calls me Paper Doll.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means he thinks I’m fickle. Like I’ll float away in a gust of wind.”

  “Wow. That’s kinda harsh.”

  “Well, I guess I am a bit scattered.”

  “You don’t seem like that to me.”

  “You don’t know me that well.”

  He smiled like he thought that had no bearing on the situation.

  “Boyfriend?” he asked.

  “No. You?”

  “I’m straight.”

  I punched him in the shoulder. “I mean, do you have a girlfriend?”

  He smiled. God, those dimples. Those lips. I couldn’t look away from him; it was as if we were inhabiting our own little vignette, separate from the rest of the bar. He squinted and then shook his head.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You’re really beautiful, Charlotte. And . . . I want to kiss you.”

  “This is moving really fast, Adam,” I stammered.

  “Life’s short,” he said again, looking intently into my eyes, entranced.