All that chaos in less than twenty minutes.
Granted, she did lend me clothes to wear home, was the only person to visit me at the hospital, and felt close enough to me to loan me her car, even though I'd barely been an acquaintance just a week ago. Not to mention the fact that she'd given me five hundred-dollar bills (probably her entire paycheck).
Of course, she might have been feeling guilty over the pressure she'd put on me to help her. She had acted a little nutso in the hospital. And she had made a strange first impression on poor Dr. Hearse, who was probably spending some 'alone' time in the bathroom as we speak, fantasizing about her naked.
I already felt bored just at the thought of having to see Dr. Hearse once a week. I was an official whacko now, with my own shrink and everything.
Recalling and pondering all this while I started the Kia, I sighed, brought myself back to reality, and looked over at Ree, who was quietly looking out the window. You could cut the uneasiness with a knife. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, I reasoned in my head. At least I'd be able to stare at him all day.
And I did always love going to Pike's. I loved Seattle in general, actually. One day I would love to move there, hopefully as close to Safeco Field as possible, but I've never had the money for it. I've pretty much lived in Lynnwood all my life, and I was comfortable there.
I headed off, realizing it had been a while since I'd been behind the wheel. I loved driving, especially in this beautiful, crisp weather. I hopped on the 5-South, sighing and trying to think of a harmless topic of conversation. After about ten minutes of silence, I finally thought of something to say. "By the way, just so you know, these aren't my clothes, they're Dess'."
He chuckled. "I know," he said, easily changing back into a conversational mood. "I bought her that t-shirt for our birthday."
I chuckled automatically in response, and then stopped short. "Our birthday?"
I dared to look over at him quickly and saw that he was nodding. "Yeah. We're twins."
It was like being struck by lightning. A light bulb went off in my head, my brain making very-overdue connections in my head—their alike skin color and last names, and their too-familiar mannerisms with each other. All I could think of was a silent, burning question of how in the world I could have possibly missed these clues. I cleared my throat, eager to move on from my embarrassing obliviousness. "But she said you were her little brother," I protested, as if I could change their status by argument alone.
"Well, yeah. She's two minutes older than me."
I burst out laughing for a reason I was not aware of. I was just tickled somehow. Maybe because Dess was silly and technical for calling Ree her little brother over an age difference of just two minutes. Maybe because this twin thing was a huge relief to my lonely heart. All I knew was, I really needed this laugh, and it wasn't long before Ree joined me, his laugh loud and genuine.
That broke the tension a little bit, and the rest of the way to downtown Seattle was actually pretty nice. Ree seemed to be impressed by the scarcity of traffic. I was almost going to give him a questioning look, because there quite a lot of drivers on the freeway today, but then I remembered that he was from Los Angeles, and from what I understood, almost anything would have been a step up from that, so I simply agreed and modestly said that although we definitely had our share of traffic, it rarely got much worse than how it was today.
We reached our destination, and I was lucky enough to find parking a block away from the original Starbucks, probably because everyone was at work and it usually didn't get busy around here until about 4:00 or so.
"Here we are," I said as we approached the Starbucks on foot. The line was long, as always, and I stood back to let him get in line to get coffee. I usually sucked down caramel macchiatos like water, but I haven't had coffee in about a week, and I didn't want to mess with my caffeine cycle on a day as strange as today had been.
After a moment of looking at each other, Ree said, "No, thanks. I don't really drink coffee."
"Tea, maybe? They have some good ones here."
"Once in a blue moon, but no, not really."
"Oh. Dess is losing her mind. It was her suggestion."
"You have to have a mind before you can lose it," he said, smiling.
That's when my world changed.
I saw something that I had never seen before: Ree's dimples. When he smiled—really smiled—he had the universe's most adorable dimples in his cheeks, completing the package of his face, making him look even more sexy and appealing. His entire face lit up with that smile, and I swear I could almost see the sun shining down on him through the building's walls, illuminating him on a makeshift stage for all the world to admire.
Regarding him now, it was impossible to believe that he was anything but perfect, that he was anything but gracious, polite, delicious, and sensitive. I hoped my mouth didn't drop open and that I didn't stare at him like some numbnut. I really don't remember. All I know is that at some point in time, I recalled his joke and smiled back, laughing politely. "All right, then. Let's get over to Pike's. Are you hungry? I'm famished. I haven't eaten very much today."
"Yeah, I could eat," he replied, falling in stride beside me. We walked for a few minutes toward Pike's.
I showed him the little area inside the marketplace where people threw fish, one booth that sold pasta made out of chocolate, another that sold handmade magnets and handbags, and so forth. The list of things to look at and buy seemed endless. I led the way to Lowell's, one of my favorite restaurants there. We fell in line immediately, the smell of clam chowder sifting through the air and making us ravenous.
As we got closer, I spied him reaching for his wallet. I put his arm down, envious of my fingertips for getting to feel a tiny patch of his smooth, beautiful skin. "Your sister gave me quite a bit of money for our…forced trip. I got this."
"Why, thank you very much. That's very kind of you. But you absolutely must let me return the favor," he replied.
I did a double-take and regarded him fondly, loving the sound of his sincere voice, especially when aimed at me.
When it was our turn, he insisted I order first, which I did without hesitation, practically tasting the cheeseburger and fries. I wanted the clam chowder, but with the nervousness I felt, that probably wasn't a good idea. When it was his turn, he smiled confidently and told the cashier, "Good afternoon. How are you doing today?"
I smiled at him again, amazed. While what he said wasn't so unusual, what really floored me was how eloquently his spoken words flowed from his mouth, and how naturally sweet and charming he was.
The cashier girl looked at him and, after a stunned moment upon seeing those dimples, smiled back and said, "Oh, I've been better. It's been a little crazy here lately—so many people."
"Then we won't keep you any longer than we need to, Skyler," he said easily, noticing her name tag.
Skyler laughed and blinked her eyes flirtatiously. "Oh, that's quite all right. I don't mind when people are as nice as you are."
Ree laughed sincerely, yet not quite as flirtatious. He rested his left elbow on the counter, seeming completely at ease. "Well, thank you. I appreciate that." He looked up at the wooden menu that was displayed over our heads. "Skyler, I'd like to order a bowl of your clam chowder and a regular soda."
"Yes, yes, of course." She started to ring up the register.
"How are your cheeseburgers? Are they really good, or should we just stick to the seafood here?" He lowered his voice in a mock conspiratorial tone. "You can tell us. If your chefs don't know their way around a cow, blink twice."
Skyler gave off such a fake, loud laugh that several of the customers standing in line looked over at us. I suppressed an eye roll. It was funny, sure, but there was no reason to laugh like a delirious hyena. "No, no, they're really good, sir," she said, leaning over the counter. I noticed she was trying to give Ree a good view of her pathetic B-cup cleavage, despite the cash register being in the way. "I promise. You'll love it."
He turned back to me, smiling, dimples in plain view. "How about it, Morgan?" he asked me. "Shall we try the cheeseburgers?"
My eyes flicked toward Skyler briefly and, remembering my awesome C-cup cleavage, I felt triumphant as I tossed my hair and pulled my hair behind my shoulders, hoping to show off my assets through Dess' shirt (thank god her red vinyl jacket was unbuttoned and open). "Yes, definitely. I ordered one too. She's right; they really are good here."
"Oh, of course you ordered the cheeseburger! I'm sorry, Morgan. I wasn't quite paying attention while you were ordering." He stopped and laughed at himself, keeping both Skyler and me in our conversation. "I have been staring at the menu like a zombie because I have gotten so ravenous, I simply can't think straight."
He said ravenous! That was one of my favorite words too.
Skyler's smile grew by the second as she finished ringing up our order. I guess she hadn't noticed that my assets were far superior to hers. I shook my head briefly when I saw that she had to start over again because she'd been stealing one too many sneak peeks at Ree and consequently hit some of the wrong buttons on the cash register. I handed her one of the hundred-dollar bills Dess had given me earlier and waited for a few minutes as Skyler fumbled with my change because she was practically drooling over Ree, who appeared to remain oblivious to the estrogen-fueled insanity. She then bit her lip as she handed us two hard plastic cups for our soda, our receipt, and a place card with the number 87 on it. Ree took them all, handing me the receipt and taking a step toward the soda machine.
"Have a beautiful day, sir," Skyler called, leaning forward and trying to show off more pretend cleavage.
"Thanks, Skyler," I replied, even though she hadn't been speaking to me. I stepped in front of Ree, hoping to block her view of him.
She smiled politely at me for a second and focused her attention back on Ree, subtly craning her neck to get a view of him.
I wanted to spit in her tip jar.
"What would you like to drink, Morgan?" Ree asked me in a perfectly normal tone, as if women fighting over him and making fools out of themselves while doing it was an everyday occurrence.
"Um…root beer. Thanks."
While he got our drinks I looked around, noticing that despite Skyler's complaint, the restaurant didn't seem terribly busy. "Ree," I said, "They actually have self-seating on the 3rd floor. It's a really nice view of the sound. Do you want to go up there?"
"The sound?" he asked me quizzically.
I smiled. "The water," I explained.
He looked up from the soda machine and smiled. "Oh! Yes, that sounds delightful. Just lead the way."
We walked up the two flights of wooden stairs where about a dozen wooden tables of different sizes waited, many of them empty. Ree walked up to a big round one that could easily sit 6 or 7 people. "Do you like this table?" he asked me.
Nodding, I walked over to the other side of the table and sat. "Ree," I began, "Can you explain it to me, please?"
"Explain what?" he asked, looking sincerely baffled, sitting down and putting the number place card at the edge of the table.
"Explain how you could be so obnoxious around Dess, but around everyone else…I mean…" Oops. I didn't know how I was going to say 'but around everyone else you're a god walking amongst mere mortals.'
He looked at me for a second as he considered my question, and then started laughing self-consciously. I doubted that I could ever get sick of looking at his perfect, white teeth. "I apologize if your impression of me was inconsistent with reality," he said modestly. "I'm pretty raw around my sis—with all my brothers and sisters, to be completely honest. If I had known Dess had a guest, I might not have tackled her… as hard." He winked and smiled again before taking a gulp of his own root beer.
I laughed and mirrored his actions, sipping my drink slowly while I thought about this amazing person sitting with me.
"How many of you are there?" I asked him suddenly, making him and his siblings sound like a litter of puppies.
"Eleven," he responded easily. "I'm the youngest."
"Oh, my god! Your poor mother."
"She's a trouper. She's also very Catholic, and you know how that goes."
I looked at him curiously, hitting the ice cubes in my cup with my straw, and shook my head briefly. "Not really. I was raised Baptist… if you can call what my parents did raising." Oops. Bitter, table for one, please.
Ree raised his left eyebrow, which distracted me momentarily. I forgot about my own bitterness and enjoyed looking at him, enjoyed being the envy of every woman in the restaurant.
He was continuing our conversation. "Well, Catholics don't believe in birth control. I mean, at all. It's a sin because you're preventing life."
"Oh, yeah. I remember hearing that somewhere. So your mom just kept having children until she got older?"
"Pretty much."
Skyler approached our table with a big, brown tray littered with plates and bowls. "Here you go, sir," she said cheerfully and gave Ree his soup, cheeseburger, and fries.
"That was awfully fast," he remarked.
"Business has eased up a bit, and I wanted to thank you for being so nice by bringing up your food myself," she replied, the tone of her voice and look on her face indicating that what she really wanted was for him to strip down here and now so they could begin the process of conceiving their own eleven children.
I rolled my eyes. The cashier never brings up the plates. They had servers who did just that, no matter how busy (or not busy) the restaurant was. Still facing Ree, she turned her head slightly towards me and said, "I'm sorry. There wasn't enough room for your food." Without another word, she went to a different table and gave them the remaining dishes that were on her tray. After she gave the neighboring table their food, she turned around to look at Ree again, walking backward as she did so and running right into a small empty table behind her. Ree pretended not to notice Skyler hollering with pain and limping back down the steps. I would have laughed if I wasn't so annoyed.
And the nerve of her! It was too difficult, apparently, to bring my food with Ree's, even though she had enough room to bring another table's orders. Just when I wondered if I should complain to her manager, someone else—a man—brought me my cheeseburger, smiling and wishing us a great rest of the day.
I snuck a glance at Ree to see if he picked up on this any of this drama, but he pretended to become engrossed in his food, attacking his clam chowder first.
After a truly delicious meal and enjoyable chit-chat overlooking the sound, I took Ree around to see some of the booths and stores at the marketplace. I did remember one small store that had a lot of Seahawks and Mariners sweatshirts, hats, and shirts, but it was just a matter of finding it. I wasn't sure if Ree would particularly like to have a Washington team name written across his front or back. He seemed like the type who felt that if he didn't have Raiders or Lakers advertised on his body somewhere, the world would stop revolving and he would no longer be able to function. If he was ruthlessly dedicated to the Angels or Dodgers, however, that would be a complete nightmare. I would have to figure out how I could remain being in love with this guy, if that were the case.
Somehow, even though I knew the store we were looking for was on one of the underground floors, we ended up outside the main building.
This was definitely not the right way.
Definitely not the right way, and downright embarrassing.
"Ugh. Let's go this way, Ree," I said, beckoning him inside the building through a different doorway.
We were both stopped short by a loud voice.
"Young man! Young woman!"
We both looked back instinctively—as if there couldn't have been another young man and woman that were being spoken to. Approaching us but not coming closer than about three feet stood an older gentleman, dressed mostly in black, holding a pile of flyers in his arms. Normally musicians were the only people demonstrating on the streets here, but every once in a while a p
reacher will come along, but they didn't hang around for very long.
I looked at Ree, ready to exchange looks of horror, but he looked unperturbed, his expression neutral.
"Aren't you concerned about your eternal soul? Don't you want to spend eternity with our Heavenly Father?"
Why do people always assume the worst about others? Maybe I have thought about my afterlife recently. How would he know one way or another?
When we didn't answer immediately, the preacher continued. "We are all going to burn in the fiery depths of Hell if we don't repent for our sins and ask for the Lord, Jesus Christ, to enter and rule our lives."
"Take a lesson from Joel Osteen," some guy in a blue flannel shirt told him as he brushed past.
"Osteen doesn't speak of reality," the preacher hissed openly, seemingly happy to have won the attention of more people. "People have a right to know if they are in danger."
"Reality is what you decide to put into your life," Ree chimed in. "If people have hope for themselves, they're happy. If they're happy, they do good things and treat other people with kindness."
"That's a reach, son," the preacher replied, shaking his head, looking sad. "That's a reach if I ever heard one."
"Not if you focus on the goodness of people instead of their potential for evil," Ree said simply, patting the preacher on his back.
Ree and I continued to walk into the building. "Repent! Believe!" he called after us and, as we walked further away, he raised his voice that much more. "For it is written, 'All things are possible to him that believeth!!'"
"Wow," I said to Ree once we were safely back inside the main building. "You were so nice to him without giving in. Most people ignored that guy."
"Well, I truly do believe he thinks he's doing the world a favor," Ree commented modestly. "I figured I owed him the decency and respect to remind him that people aren't always so bad."
I scoffed without thinking. "Can't speak for everyone."
Ree's head tilted in my direction, but I kept my eyes straight ahead, avoiding eye contact.
"Here," I said, relieved to change the subject before he could follow up on my comment. "Here's the store we've been looking for—Pike Place Gifts. These clothes mostly have Seahawks or Mariners on them, but I'm sure you can find something you can wear without wanting to kill yourself."
Surreal Ecstasy Page 10