I phoned ahead, and the manager said I could come in any time. They needed waitresses, and I had experience, having worked part-time at a local breakfast place near home since I was sixteen.
It wasn’t a long walk; less than a mile. Actually, just over a kilometre—I needed to start thinking in metric. When I got there the manager, Michael, said I could fill in the application form right then, saving me from having to bring it back later.
When he finished reading the application he said, ‘When can you start?’
I was rapt. I’d do the lunch shows, Wednesday through Friday and maybe even fill in on the odd night when someone needed time off.
‘You realise this is basically just a glorified waitress job, right? I mean, you’ll wear a witch costume, but the job won’t entail any real acting or anything,’ Michael said.
‘Sure, sounds great. I’m happy not to have to get up on a stage. What’s the show about anyway? I mean, what’s the attraction for school kids? I thought this was an adult comedy theatre?’
‘It is, but the owners’ son is a drama teacher, and wanted to try something new … his students do extracts from some of Shakespeare’s works. He says it’s a good way for his students to practice with live audiences, and good for the kids to get a bit of culture at the same time.’
‘Well, it sounds great. I don’t mind waiting on tables, and it’ll be fun getting dressed up as a witch. And who knows, maybe I’ll even learn something.’
‘Just so long as you understand it’s a casual position. I can’t promise how long he’ll continue this and that means the job might end before you know it.’
‘That’s ok. I understand.’ I said, not letting on that I would only be here for two months in any case. I wanted the job, and didn’t want to give him any reason not to hire me.
After wards I walked across to the gardens, careful as I crossed the road to look both ways several times; I was still a bit unsure where the cars would be coming from. I climbed the small embankment that led up to the top of the hill and decided to head off to the left, running in a clockwise direction.
The garden reminded me a bit of Golden Gate Park, only smaller. It had fairly major streets on all four sides, but none running through the middle. There were formal garden beds full of roses and other flowers, and not so formal garden beds with shrubs. There was a kids’ play area, and something called a ‘lawn bowls club’, and lots of large open grass areas, and even a tennis court. And all throughout there were meandering paths, with sculptures and monuments scattered here and there.
A lot of the trees were bare, their huge knotted limbs dark against the greyish sky—maybe maples or oaks? Their dried leaves were scattered around in varying shades of orange and brown. But there were also trees like the ones I knew from home—eucalyptus trees—ones I’d grown up with in my local parks and that grew along El Camino Real.
It was now mid-morning, and the gardens were nearly deserted. Perfect. I started my run slowly, letting my muscles warm up, then picked up a bit of speed on the second lap. I liked this place. Maybe it was the smell of the eucalyptus trees that gave it a familiar feel, but whatever it was, I knew straight away that I would make this my sanctuary. It would be the place I’d come to get away—to be alone. Burial Hill or not, I could see myself spending a lot of time running here.
As I rounded the last corner of my second lap I saw him—the man from the market—Sam. He was just ahead of me to the right, leaning against a large tree that looked like it could have been there since the beginning of time. And he was staring straight at me.
Somewhat automatically, I raised my hand and smiled, and started to slow down. But he didn’t smile back. Instead, he just sort of nodded in recognition. I ran past, confused by his response. Had he just brushed me off? As I continued to run, I cursed my shyness—why hadn’t I stopped?
I was determined to force myself to stop on the next pass. Smile or no smile. But by the time I made it back up to where he’d been standing he was gone, taking the decision out of my hands.
I know it was stupid, but I felt really rejected. I mean, I’d hardly even met the man, so it wasn’t like he was obliged to talk to me or anything. And I was the one that ran past him without stopping. I mean, he acknowledged me. So maybe he’d expected me to stop? Then again, just because I felt this strange attraction to him, it didn’t mean he felt the same way. And I wasn’t even sure I was attracted to him. I really didn’t understand what it was I’d felt that day at the market. And I was pretty sure my pounding heart was simply from my running, right?
I continued running for another lap, but it no longer felt good so I slowed down and called it quits, then headed back to the apartment.
After I showered, I sat down to watch a movie. My mind raced, trying to figure out what that chance meeting meant. I couldn’t stop thinking about this man … Sam. I’m sure there’d been some sort of chemistry between us. Maybe Debs was right. Maybe I should trust my intuition. But what was my intuition saying? Yes, he was a bit of a mystery. Well, actually, more than a bit of a mystery. And yes, I found him attractive, in a strange way. And his friend was clearly someone that Claire wanted to spend time with, so wouldn’t it make sense to at least be friends with him?
I suddenly got a great idea. I’d cook dinner for Debs and Ian tomorrow night. I could go to the market in the morning to buy fresh ingredients. That way, I could visit their stall for a legitimate reason, and force him to speak to me. I’d be a paying customer after all, so he couldn’t just ignore me, could he?
~ CHAPTER THREE ~
I woke early, anxious to get on with my little plan before I had time to lose my nerve. Debs was pleased when I mentioned cooking, and offered to drop me at the market on her way out.
I walked to the middle of the parking lot where Claire had parked, hoping to retrace our route and find the fruit and vegetable stall. But at first I just stood there, wondering about my distant relative. Could she actually be here, under this concrete? Was it silly to think I might feel some sort of connection? Perhaps, but it didn’t matter as I felt nothing.
Turning to face the market, I realised that what was silly was hoping to retrace our route. I had no idea where to go. I’d followed Claire blindly on Thursday. Some things looked familiar, but I couldn’t be sure. And today it was crowded. There were people everywhere. I struggled to remain focused and not become claustrophobic.
After wandering around for some time, I remembered that we had crossed a street. As I made my way in the direction that felt right, I spotted a big sign; ORGANICS. Yes, that was it—I recognised that sign.
I continued walking and soon spotted Tom and Sam. They were talking. Or at least Sam was talking. Tom appeared to be laughing. Sam had a look on his face that reminded me of my mother when I was in trouble. Sam kept shaking his head, while Tom nodded his, smiling. I could see why Claire was attracted to him—he was gorgeous.
When I got a bit closer, they both turned at the same time. Tom’s smile widened, but Sam just stared at me, his dark eyes full of some emotion that I couldn’t quite interpret. My heart pounded and my feet nearly refused to carry me forward, but there was no turning back now.
‘Hey, Lili. What brings you here?’ Tom called out, smiling.
‘Hi Tom. I’m cooking dinner tonight,’ I replied, trying to sound casual.
‘Well, you wouldn’t believe it. I just got off the phone with Claire. There’s a game tomorrow at The G, and I got us tickets. She’s probably trying to ring you now.’
‘Oh, yeah, well … I don’t have a cell phone—mobile phone I mean. She’s probably left a message at the apartment. But that sounds great to me.’ I looked over at Sam, and I caught him just as he let out a huge sigh.
‘Sam, don’t be a snob. Come over and meet Lili,’ Tom scolded.
Sam walked toward us, looking down at the ground as he approached. Could he possibly be nervous? Or shy? Or did he really hate meeting me so much? I mean, really, if he didn’t want to go to the foo
tball game with us …
‘Hello, Lili. It’s lovely to meet you,’ he said. His voice sent shivers down my spine—especially when he said my name.
‘It’s nice to meet you too, Sam,’ I mumbled, unable to think of anything clever to say.
Tom walked up and punched Sam in the arm. ‘See, I told you she wouldn’t bite. Oh … wait a minute … maybe I said I wouldn’t bite,’ he said, throwing his head back, laughing.
But Sam didn’t seem to find it very funny. He returned the punch so hard that it sounded like it could have broken Tom’s arm, but Tom never even flinched. He didn’t stop laughing either, and that seemed to really irritate Sam. He punched Tom again, but when Tom just continued to laugh, Sam finally gave in, a hint of a smile breaking through the grimace.
‘I’ll get you back … when you least expect it.’
‘Ohhh, now I’m scared,’ Tom replied. Then to me, ‘We’ll pick you up around one o’clock or so—at your place.’
‘Okay, perfect,’ I said, not sure whether what I was feeling was excitement or nerves.
‘Now, you came here for a reason. Sam, make yourself useful would you, and help the poor girl,’ Tom said as he turned to go over to help some other customers.
Sam looked at me, frowning, and I felt that black hole thing happening all over again. I fought the sensation, and tried to sound normal when I spoke.
‘I’m just doing a salad and making some pasta, so I don’t need a lot of stuff. Some fresh herbs, lettuce, tomatoes … you know,’ I said, fearing that if I tried to pick anything up right now my hands would shake.
Sam continued staring at me for a moment, and then signed. ‘Look, Lili, I’m sorry if I seemed a bit rude the other day, it’s just … well, it’s just that …’
I interrupted him. ‘Sam, you don’t have to explain. It’s okay.’
There was something in my personality that always made me let people off the hook. It was like this involuntary thing—I did it constantly. They’d hesitate, and I’d give them an out. Why did I always do that?
But I had the feeling that Sam really didn’t know what to say. I mean, maybe he simply didn’t like me all that much. And Tom was sort of pushing us together. Maybe that was why they were arguing. Maybe Sam didn’t want to go to the game, and Tom was insisting.
‘Look, you seem like a really nice girl …’ Sam started saying, but then paused.
‘But …’ I said the word for him, when he didn’t say it himself. ‘There’s always a but, isn’t there? So what is it—you have a wife and three kids somewhere and feel guilty about this double date thing, right? Or maybe you think I’m “nice” but don’t want to lead me on. Hey, it really is ok, Sam. It’s just a football game. It’s not really like a date or anything. Chill out.’
The words just popped out, and I was proud of myself for sounding so cool.
‘No, it’s nothing like that. I don’t have a wife … and I don’t think you’re nice. I mean …I’m sure you are nice … it’s just that I don’t think this is such a great idea …’ He sighed again, and his frown deepened. But then something in him changed. He smiled tentatively, and let out another big sigh. ‘Look, forgive me. The game will be a lot of fun. I can be such a drag sometimes—I’ll do my best to lighten up. Now, let’s find what you need so you can go home—you look half frozen.’
~~***~~
Claire arrived just before noon. She wore a black leather jacket with matching fur trimmed gloves, a black top, skin tight black jeans and high-heeled black leather boots. There wasn’t a bit of colour on her.
‘You’d better get ready, they’ll be here soon,’ she scolded me as she strutted into the room, throwing her gloves on the sofa before plonking down on it.
‘Oh, well, I … sort of am ready. This is alright, isn’t it?’
I had on my favourite pair of faded Levis, a grey t-shirt under a faded blue hoodie, and my heaviest jacket over the top of that. My outfit was finished off with my old hiking boots.
‘Oh … well, if that’s what you want to wear … never mind—I suppose you didn’t bring all that much with you. That’s fine.’ It was obvious that she was not impressed with my clothes. ‘This is going to be so much fun. I’m so glad Tom suggested it. I would have, you know—if he hadn’t. I mean, I really wanted to go out with him again, and this is perfect. It’ll be so much fun. And you’re going to love the game.’
‘Maybe we should go downstairs and wait for them out front?’ I suggested, wanting to go before she changed her mind about what I was wearing.
‘Oh, okay. That’ll save them having to park,’ she said, standing up. She gave my outfit one final look then shook her head as she walked to the door.
Just after we walked outside, a huge silver SUV pulled up, and Tom called out to us. Claire and I jumped in the back and off we went.
It didn’t take long to get there. Tom parked and we all climbed out and started off on our short walk to the stadium. We hadn’t gone far before Tom put his arm around Claire’s shoulders. It made me feel awkward, but I just put my hands in my pockets. When I glanced at Sam, he seemed nearly as uncomfortable as I felt.
When we finally got to our row of seats, Tom went in first, followed by Claire. Sam stood back, gesturing for me to sit next to Claire, then he sat beside me.
Luckily the game had already started, so there was lots of noise and action—eliminating any need for small talk. The stadium was gigantic and the noise was almost deafening.
Tom did a pretty good job of explaining the game to me. Every now and again he’d reach across Claire to grab my arm, and tell me to yell ‘BALL’ as the crowd roared. It was fun watching how animated he became, particularly toward the referees. His energy was exhilarating.
As for Claire … well, she seemed in heaven. Every now and then she’d lean over and whisper in my ear as she pointed out the best looking players. But most of her attention was directed at Tom. They giggled a lot, at private jokes I suppose. Anyway, it was cute—they seemed to be a good match.
And then there was Sam. He was relatively quiet throughout the game, but he did speak to me occasionally, explaining some of the penalties when I must have looked confused. He didn’t carry on the way Tom did, however, and he appeared to be deep in thought at times. I found his presence unsettling, especially when he’d accidentally brush my hand, or when he’d lean across to talk to Tom over us girls. Each time he did I could feel my heart skip a beat. I tried to watch the game, but my peripheral vision kept tempting me, and I found myself constantly sneaking looks at him—way more often than I should. I could swear he was more focused on Tom than the game, and it felt like he was on edge.
When the game finally ended we all stood up and walked to the stairs. Tom took Claire’s hand as we walked toward the exit, and I followed with Sam just behind them.
It was cold and getting dark as we left the stadium, and the wind had picked up. I shivered a little as the wind whipped around our faces.
‘You’re freezing. Here,’ said Sam, taking off his jacket to drape it over my shoulders.
This was unexpected. I mumbled an apology—something about not being used to the cold weather yet, but he just shook his head and gave me a slight smile.
I pulled the sleeves of his jacket together and couldn’t help but notice the subtle musky fragrance of it. I looked at him, standing there in just a long sleeved shirt, and wondered what could have possessed him to give up his wonderfully warm jacket for my sake. Could this possibly mean he actually did like me? His face was impossible to read.
When we got to the truck, Tom opened the front passenger door, and Claire climbed in, leaving me to get in the back with Sam. He opened the door for me, and I took his jacket off and handed it back to him. Then he went around to the other side, and got in. When he turned and smiled at me, I felt the blood rush to my face. I hoped it was too dark for him to notice.
Tom flicked on the radio as he drove off and the music was so loud there was no need to try to make conversa
tion. That gave me time to think about Sam—he’d given me his jacket … and opened the door for me … and there was the smile he gave me. Was there something there after all?
Then, as we drove along I began to panic, fearing that when we got to my place, Tom would get out of the truck and stand there kissing Claire. And there we’d be—watching. I thought I might as well just lie down and die on the back seat, right now, as I’d surely die of embarrassment when it happened.
But maybe I do have a guardian angel, because when Tom pulled up at the front of my building he simply turned off the radio and said, ‘You girls don’t mind if we just keep going do you? I’ve got a few things I need to do tonight, so we won’t come up or anything.’
I was saved. I wouldn’t have to die of embarrassment after all. ‘Oh, no, of course not,’ I said, opening the door before Claire had a chance to complain. ‘Thank you for a wonderful day. I really enjoyed it—even though I’m sorry your team didn’t win.’
Claire pouted, but she jumped out anyway, saying she’d had a great time too.
I looked over at Sam, and I suppose the relief must have given me a bit of a high because I winked at him and said, ‘See, Tom was right. I don’t bite.’
~~***~~
I woke early the next morning. Claire was back at work today, and I didn’t start my new job until Wednesday, so I had two full days with nothing planned. Debs had her own life, which included volunteering at a museum every Monday. It was great for me, because not only did I not want to be a burden, but I also wanted time to just hang out and discover myself. I needed to work out what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.
I decided to start my day with a run, and figured maybe I’d do some exploring afterward. I walked briskly up the hill to what I was beginning to consider ‘my gardens’ and then did a slow lap around the perimeter. As I approached the tree where I’d seen Sam that other time, I began searching for him. Even though I knew I was looking for him, I couldn’t believe it when he was there. He stood in exactly the same place, leaning against the tree with one leg bent so that his foot rested against the trunk. He seemed to be watching me, just as he’d done the previous time. I slowed, and decided that this time I wouldn’t just wave.
Destiny (Absent Shadows Trilogy Book 1) Page 3