by Anna Albo
“Oh, God,” Jason muttered loud enough for me to hear.
“Is that so,” I giggled. Louis couldn’t have been any more adorable. And was he reading my mind and trying to help me out?
“Yes, and he’s quite the catch. So if any of you single ladies here would like to get to know him better, I’m sure he’d be amiable. Look at him. He’s a fine-looking specimen. If I were young, single, and a woman, I might even think he’s handsome.”
Anyone with a pulse would have been embarrassed, but Jason just shrugged it off with a hint of a smile. “Thankfully you are none of those. Are you trying to set me up on a date?”
“You aren’t doing a very good job of it on your own. All this guy does in his spare time is go to the gym and hang out with us old guys. He needs to find a nice girl. Grace, aren’t you single?”
“Uh, yes.”
“He’s single, you’re single; I think my work here is done,” Louis said, swiping up his coffee.
“Maybe we should let Grace get back to work,” Jason said, grabbing Louis’ arm and pulling him away. They took a seat in a corner and enjoyed their coffees. I stared at them and didn’t notice Cathy coming and standing next to me.
“Who are you looking at? Oh, I see. Louis is absolutely gorgeous. I would kill to see him naked. I bet he’s a hairy beast.”
“Funny.”
“The new guy is easy on the eyes, isn’t he? Louis is getting up to leave. Why don’t you go over and talk to him?”
“I couldn’t!”
“Why not?”
“It would be so obvious.”
“Go and pretend to clean tables. He’ll fall for it. Trust me; I’m never wrong.”
I did as I was told and slowly wandered over table by table until I got close enough. My heart was pounding so hard but I waited, watching him from the corner of my eye. His head was in a newspaper and he made no notice of me. How could he not see me? I was about to turn and head back to the counter, dejected and disappointed, when he lifted his gaze and saw me at the table next to him. He must have caught me ogling him.
“Hi, Grace.”
“Oh, hey,” I said casually. Man, I was really bad at this.
“I hope you don’t think Louis was giving you a hard time.”
“Not at all. We all love Louis around here. He’s a big teddy bear.”
“Unless you look suspicious. Then mean and crazy Louis comes out. Maybe you’ve never seen it, but he can be a badass.”
“Thankfully I’ve never seen that side of him.”
“And he’s always trying to set me up with every single woman he sees,” Jason added.
My skin was starting to warm. Was I blushing? Crap!
“Grace, take a ten-minute break,” Cathy said, appearing out of absolutely nowhere. She passed by us and disappeared from wherever she came from. Maybe she and Louis were in on some covert operation.
“That was nice of her. You can sit with me, if you want.”
Did I want? I couldn’t sit fast enough.
“Louis must think you’re lonely.”
“It’s hard to make friends, so I think he’s helping me out. I think if his daughters were older, he’d try to marry me off to one of them. As it is, if I’m not careful, he may betroth one to me.”
“Well, if you ever want to go out for coffee, a real coffee, not airport coffee, I’d be happy to help you get to know Minneapolis better.”
Oh my! I’d done it. I’d actually asked him out. The words left my mouth before I had time to process them. I hadn’t even considered that he might say no, and if he did? The humiliation!
“Sure, sounds good.” I so badly wanted to hear nervousness in his voice, but Jason was the coolest cucumber I’d ever met.
We exchanged numbers and said our goodbyes. I skipped back to the counter where Cathy was waiting.
“Well?”
“We are going to make a coffee date.”
“Told you. I’m good. Now you better make sure to invite me to the wedding.”
CHAPTER 4
In between applications for public assistance, I had a coffee with Ellen. I couldn’t wait to tell her about my impending date. Ellen handed me a horrible cup of Greta’s House coffee and we sat on the old, pilled sofa.
“What’s with the ants in your pants?”
“I’m going on a date.” I hadn’t heard from Jason yet, but I was sure he’d call. A girl knows.
“A date! You haven’t even mentioned a guy. Who is it?”
“Before you judge, remember that we can’t paint all people with the same brush.”
Ellen frowned and small lines formed around her mouth. Although she was only twenty-nine, her face had aged from the hands of an abusive husband for nearly seven years. “I already don’t like the sound of this.”
“He’s a Customs agent at the airport.”
Ellen let out a warning grumble, the kind that is under the breath but meant to be heard. “You know how I feel about men in positions of authority.”
“Yes, I know the statistics.” We all knew the statistics at Greta’s House. There were more military and police wives, partners, and girlfriends than any other group at the shelter, but did that mean we painted them all with the same brush? Of course not.
“But I think he’s different.”
Another grumble. “And you know how many times we’ve heard that before.”
“It’s not fair to judge him.”
At that, Ellen nodded. “You are absolutely right. I’m only cautioning you to have your eyes wide open.”
“And I will.”
“With that out of the way, tell me about him.”
I briefed her and she listened thoughtfully, and when I was finished, she gave me one last piece of advice.
“You are an amazing woman, so promise me not to sell yourself short with this guy. If for any reason he gives you a bad vibe, I want you out of there. You got that, right?”
“He’s not like that.”
“You don’t know him. And I’d give you that same advice no matter who he was.”
I had to concede that. “Okay, I promise.”
“Good—and make sure you have a good time.”
I told her a few more details before setting off to work. I had a busy Saturday that consisted of my volunteer work, running some errands for my mom, and then a later shift at Anthony’s. I wrapped up reviewing several applications for public assistance and a few for Section 8 housing. The worst part for many of these women was to find themselves suddenly homeless with little or no income. They were lost souls, and helping them fill out their applications was the very least I could do.
I finished up my shift and waved goodbye to Ellen. As I was leaving, one of the women caught my eye. I hadn’t seen her before but she looked like Callie. Long blonde hair, slim frame, and for a second I could have sworn it was her. You see, I used to have another best friend. Callie, Anita, and I used to be an inseparable threesome. Callie and I met at our local community center where we played on the same baseball team. The following year, in the seventh grade, we started going to school together. When Anita joined our group, it was a natural fit. But in one moment, Eric, Callie’s older brother, tore us apart.
When Eric and I broke up, Callie blamed me. Part of the problem was my refusal to tell her why I decided to end things with Eric. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth, and even if I did, I was convinced she wouldn’t believe me. Blood trumped friendship each and every time. Callie sided with Eric and I got custody of Anita. Anita had always been closer to me than to Callie so her choice, albeit hard, was ultimately an easy one. And even though she asked a few times, I’ve never told Anita what happened with Eric—well, I’ve told no one. Deep down I believe that Anita had an inkling of what went on, but she wouldn’t say it in fear of being wrong. She assumed he dumped me and I let her think it.
Callie graduated in April so I no longer saw her around campus. To say I missed her friendship would be the understatement of th
e century. I used to see her every day. She still lived less than two blocks away from me. We carpooled to school together, I hung out at her place all the time, and she and her boyfriend, Greg, were our couple friends. We went from sixty to zero in an instant. I mourned more for my friendship with her than any moment with Eric.
As I drove past her house to the grocery store my heart ached. Usually seeing Eric’s silver Subaru would dull that ache, but even today, seeing that symbol of him did not make my heart hurt less. There were times I thought to call her, talk to her, but she’d staunchly defended her brother. She’d yelled at me, telling me I’d ruined everything. Why did I need to be so selfish? She was yelling and crying all at the same time and I couldn’t defend myself. Nothing I could say would be believed.
“I miss you,” I whispered as I drove past the Nelson house. I hoped that every once in a while she missed me too.
Once at the grocery store I put aside thoughts of Callie. I had a handful of items to buy for Sunday dinner. I trolled the produce aisles filling my basket with tomatoes, green peppers, a stalk of celery, and a bag of carrots. My phone chimed as I inspected a cantaloupe. I pulled it out pleasantly surprised to see a message from Jason asking me out for coffee Monday night. When you work at an airport, weekends didn’t really exist, so asking to go out on a Monday wasn’t all that unusual.
A mixture of giddiness and fear swept over me. There I was, standing in the middle of the vast produce section, carrying a red food basket and just staring at my phone, transfixed and frozen. Instead of texting him back, I called Anita.
“This is a no-brainer! Go out with him. You aren’t committing to marriage.”
Going out for coffee was essentially starting something, and I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that’s what I wanted. Single life wasn’t so bad. While being with and having someone was great, I didn’t know Jason. I had no idea what his history was. He could be a serial killer for all I knew. He knew no one in town and he was essentially anonymous.
“I’m a little nervous,” I said, my stomach a little queasy.
“That’s normal. That’s why you meet him somewhere, you don’t tell him where you live, and then you make sure he doesn’t follow you home.”
“Was that little speech supposed to make me feel better?”
“Just some practical advice. So text him back. What are you waiting for? You’ve been salivating over this guy for weeks.”
“I know. I’m making myself sick. How long should I wait before texting back?”
“An hour, maybe longer. But don’t push it too far.”
So I waited an hour. By then I was home and helping my mom with some housecleaning before tomorrow’s weekly Whellam Sunday dinner. I finished up with the vacuuming and stole a moment before I tackled the dusting. I sent him a quick where-and-when text and waited. I prayed he wouldn’t make me wait an hour and he didn’t. Just as I finished up the dusting in the living room my phone chimed again. He’d chosen a nearby Starbucks for eight o’clock. My stomach fluttered and a familiar feeling of panic gripped me like a vice. Moving forward was scary; I preferred the status quo.
I ASKED MY PARENTS for the car. We were down to one now. Mom sold her Toyota a few months back and the three of us made it work with just the one. Dad rarely used the car and I mainly borrowed it on the weekend. It worked out that neither had plans, so after a quick dinner with my parents—if you called pushing food around a plate dinner—I primped. He’d never seen me outside the Anthony’s uniform and I wanted to make the best impression. I tried every pair of jeans I owned before settling on one that I felt made my ass look its best. It was nice having a sister who wore the same size. All her care packages had clothes that fit me perfectly. I picked out a fitted pink sweater that showed off my ample assets—both a blessing and a curse—then worked on my hair. I let it fall around my shoulders in soft curls. I thought I looked pretty good. I hoped Jason agreed.
After a short pep talk from Anita, I was on my way. I timed myself to be a few minutes late and when I arrived at Starbucks he was already there, sitting at a corner table with a tall coffee in front of him. He was tapping away on his smartphone and didn’t see me come in. I took my time walking over. His dark blond hair was disheveled in a sexy kind of way. He looked foreign in his blue jeans and button-down light blue shirt. He glanced up just as I reached the table and he let out the smallest smile, the only time I’d ever seen him smile.
“Hey, Grace, what can I get you?” he said, rising.
“Venti chai latte.”
“Coming right up.”
It was like some invisible airport barrier had been lifted. This Jason seemed so very different from the one I knew in his Customs uniform. There was a lightness to him, almost warm. I knew there was something about him I liked and now I was finally seeing it. I watched as he gave my order to the barista. He was so tall. He certainly towered over my five-foot-four frame, and by the look of the way his shirt fit, he was in great shape. Indecent thoughts flooded my mind and I implored them to go away.
My phone chimed. Damn Anita. I didn’t even bother to look, instead putting it on silent.
Jason returned with my latte. “I didn’t know if you wanted some extra sugar,” he said, setting down some packets.
“No, I’m good. You look so different outside the airport.”
“So do you.”
“You like your job?” I asked, stirring the milk foam around.
“It’s all right. The pay is good, great benefits. It’s a little hard meeting new people, but I’m working on that.”
“Right, I’m new,” I said with a giggle. What was going on with me? I had to dial back the teenager and act more like an adult.
“Yes, you are.”
“And this city is so lame sometimes. Nothing exciting ever happens. Boring, boring, boring.” More silly giggling. And at that moment I saw the wall start to go up. He wasn’t seeing the Grace from the airport, he was suddenly with some ditzy Grace, and he didn’t like her as much. My breath quickened and I felt myself losing control of the situation. I was blowing it, this was a runaway train and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
“Do you like ice cream?” I asked. I didn’t wait for an answer. “I love ice cream. My favorite is chocolate, but this little shop close to me has this amazing peanut butter sauce. It’s to die for. Who really knows how much peanut butter is actually in it, but it tastes like peanut butter. Anyway, I used to go there three times a week when I was in high school. They knew me by name. The second they saw me coming, they were already starting my order. Chocolate soft serve with peanut butter sauce. And then I’d get them to add extra peanuts because I love them. I might have a peanut butter addiction. I could eat it all day long. I put it on bread, dip apples in it, spread it on banana slices or just eat it from the jar. I gained a lot of weight in high school, probably from the ice cream! And the peanut butter! I lost that weight now, not that that matters, I was simply saying it, but I still go to that ice cream place every once in a while. Same owners, but now I think they’re probably in their sixties. I bet they’ll retire soon. Course, I couldn’t buy the place. I’d eat all the profits.”
His stare was completely blank. I couldn’t tell if he was in shock or he’d just zoned out to his happy place. “That’s interesting,” he said, realizing I’d finally shut up.
“So, like, to become a Customs agent, do you have to do any special tests?” Maybe I could get this date back on track with a few questions for him.
“We have to pass a psych evaluation, fitness testing, firearms training and proficiency, criminal background check. Other tests. You don’t just apply and get the job.”
“Ha, I had to have a criminal background check too! It’s funny because I don’t think I’ve ever seen the inside of a police station. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a gun. My dad used to have this huge rifle, he didn’t even know how to use it. He had it hidden under the bed just in case. I mean, you could tell what it was, but I never saw it i
n the flesh. Then one day he decided to get rid of it. He was so scared because he didn’t want anyone to see him leaving the house with it. He ended up calling the local police station and they told him to just bring it down, but he was worried that when he walked up the precinct steps, someone would think he was trying to hold up the police station. Anyway, he finally took it there and that was it.”
Just like this date.
“Do you own a gun?” I asked.
“I do.”
“I don’t know anyone with a gun, at least, they’ve never told me they owned one. Maybe I have cousins who own one, but none of my friends have one. I’ve never been interested in them, and honestly, I think too many people have access to them, especially people who shouldn’t have them. We probably shouldn’t get into the gun debate. My mom forbids certain discussions at the dinner table. I think I should tell her to add gun control to that list. Have you ever needed to use your gun?”
“No.”
It dawned on me that if he had his gun with him, he might use it to shoot himself.
Out of politeness, he waited until I finished my latte before making an escape. How could I possibly blame him? I’d nattered about nothing for twenty minutes!
“I’ll see you around,” he said as he was leaving. “Take care.”
The death knell. I got the “take care.” No one said that if they planned on calling again. “Sure, see you,” I said, unable to mask the dejection in my voice.
I waited around a few minutes before I took my walk of shame back to the car. I sent Anita a quick text telling her the date was an utter failure and that I’d call her later with the details.
CHAPTER 5
Two weeks passed and I didn’t see Jason. With each passing day my heart sank more and my bad attitude rose. I sniped at my parents, Ellen, and worst of all, my best friend, the one who had supported me. Did I subconsciously blame her? If I did, that made me a horrible human being.
I was in a perpetual bad mood, blaming myself for what had happened with Jason. I’d blown it, plain and simple. If Anita told me one more time that “if he couldn’t like me the way I was then he wasn’t worth it” bullshit, I was going to vomit.