So Different

by Robinson, Ruthie

“Hello,” Yvette said, waving her hand in front of his face.

  He grabbed his menu. A few minutes later Mariah walked over to greet him.

  “Hey, you made it. I’ve met your sister,” she said.

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “The special,” he said.

  “Me, too,” Yvette said, giving her menu to Mariah. “So your brother owns this place?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t now that was possible.”

  “He was enrolled in a sixteen-month training course via this agency, BET, the Business Enterprise of Texas. It’s a food management program that teaches and locates jobs for Texans who are blind.

  “Joshua had to attend a bunch of classes on restaurant management, whether of a small snack shop or a full service cafeteria, everything from accounting, inventory, ordering food, hiring employees. Once he was done with training, he was placed at a small cafeteria in Austin, south of town, to manage and gain experience. He was there for two years before deciding to go into business for himself. The goal of rehabilitation has always been to allow the blind to live a life of their choosing, just like the sighted.”

  “With your help?” Yvette said.

  Mariah shrugged. “He and Jacob do most of the work. I mostly fill in where needed,” she said, looking around. “I’ll be back in a second.”

  “What a nice woman. I like her hair color, too. Blue, right?” she asked Adam.

  He laughed at that. “She is nice,” he said, looking at her, now standing at another table. It seemed like the customer was giving her a difficult time about something. He noticed her shift to her right hip, a sure sign that she was getting irritated. Next would be the arms crossed at her chest; yep, there they went. He smiled. Mariah titled her head to the side while the woman continued to talk. Another three minutes and the woman was done. He watched as Mariah turned away, rolling her eyes.

  She glanced over at him mid-eye roll, catching his smile. She smiled, shook her head, and went through the doors leading to the kitchen.

  “So are you getting serious with her?”

  “Nope. We’re just friends.”

  “You talked to her, though. You must have. Were you honest with her about what you wanted?”

  “Yes.”

  “So no more Tuesday and Thursday, cause today it’s Wednesday and here you are.”

  “You don’t miss much, do you?” he said.

  “You like her. I can tell, and as more than friends, but I’ll let you get used to the idea first,” she said.

  Mariah eventually delivered their food. He and Yvette ate and talked, bringing each other up to date on their lives. Yvette left about an hour later while he remained behind, sitting at his table and surfing on his laptop, waiting for Mariah. He watched her as she talked with her customers, surprised that she was so well liked. He watched that one guy try to talk to her as he made his way to the door.

  She was interesting, different, and he compared her to his ex and to the ideal he held in his head, something he’d started to do more frequently. Jamie had given the appearance of beauty and goodness. Mariah didn’t, but was turning out to be filled with it, hidden underneath her personality, her hair, and tattoos.

  * * *

  Second week in August

  Adam woke up to quiet and looked over to the empty spot in the bed next to him. He was at Mariah’s again. He had gone by the restaurant last night after work and had dinner there. It was his new place to eat, healthier than the Taco Post. He’d waited around for her, had helped her clean up, and ended up here; most times it was where they ended up. Two weeks of being here and it seemed like they’d flown past friendship. He had, anyway, and she seemed to be content with the change, too.

  He pulled on his jeans and went in search of her. He padded down the hall to the kitchen, stuck his head in; no sign of her. He wasn’t surprised. Mariah didn’t cook much; mostly she ate at her brother’s place. She spent most of her time there, he’d learned, looking out for her big brother. He looked over at the large space that was not a living room and not a bedroom.

  She told him she was going to have to replenish her savings to her comfort level before she undertook any other projects, so she’d have to live with the hole for a while.

  He turned and walked down the hall to the porch, opened the door, and caught her sitting in an old rocker, her old granny’s chair, her feet up, a book in one hand, a container of Chinese food in the other, leftovers from an unexpected evening in.

  His stomach rumbled. She looked up and smiled, dressed in a t-shirt and those boy’s underwear he loved so much, legs free and feet bare. Her hair was auburn this week, actually had been for a while.

  “You were tired?” she said.

  “Yes,” he said, taking the seat next to her, holding his hand out for her carton of food. She passed it to him and he ate in silence for a while as she continued to read.

  “So what’s up for the day?” he asked.

  “You don’t have to stay here all day with me. I mean, you do spend a lot of time here.”

  “What’s your point?” he said, around his chewing.

  “We’re friends, just pointing that out,” she said.

  “It’s what you wanted, right, something more than Tuesday and Thursdays,” he said before putting another forkful in his mouth.

  “Yep, just making sure you knew it hadn’t meant every day.”

  “You don’t like me hanging out with you? Don’t friends hang out with each other?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I don’t really. It’s been two weeks and you’re tired of me already. I’m hurt.”

  She laughed, giving up. “Want to go skating with me?”

  “Skating,” he said, his tone neutral as he handed the container back to her. She waved it away and he sat it down on the table next to her.

  “Can you skate?” she asked.

  “Not very well.”

  “I’ll teach you, then,” she said, putting her book on the table next to her. “I’ll take you to this place I love, it’s called the Skateway. It’s five miles of paved roads reserved for bikes and people, no cars, and five minutes from here.” She popped up out of her chair, catching the look of trepidation on his face.

  “I can’t skate. I don’t have the gene,” he said.

  “What gene? Did Sally tell you that?” she asked, reaching for his hand and pulling him up to stand.

  “Have you talked to Casper?” he asked, still looking for a way out.

  “There is no skating gene. Yes, I’ve spoken to Casper. Come on, it’ll be fun, I’ve skated with Joshua and if he can skate, so can you,” she said, picking up their Chinese food breakfast and pulling him along behind her.

  * * *

  It was more like thirty minutes later; she’d had to go by Joshua’s home to use his skates because Adam didn’t own a pair. She stood next to him now, skates on, waiting for him to stand. It was taking him forever—he’d given her one excuse after another. What was the big deal, she could teach anybody.

  “One more time. I’m a really good teacher,” she said, reaching for his hand. He had sat on the park bench for the last ten minutes, trying to talk her out of it. He’d been cute sitting there, his hair wild about his head, those glasses on his face, trying to convince her of his limited skating ability.

  “Up,” she shouted. “Now. Stop being such a baby.”

  “Tried to warn you, and those are my last words on the subject,” he said and stood. He abruptly started windmilling his arms for balance, and she had to jump back to avoid being hit. A small laugh escaped and she’d covered her mouth with her hand, looking away, not wanting to laugh outright. Okay, maybe it was going to be a little more difficult than she imagined. She took a deep breath.

  “Okay, give me your hand,” she said and he placed his right hand into hers. It took her five minutes after that to get him to stand still again. Maybe this wasn’t the best ide
a, she thought, but hell, she could do this. She scanned the area, waiting a few minutes until the path was clear; she wanted absolutely no one on the path.

  “We can always stop,” he offered.

  “No, we’re good,” she said and pushed off slowly. Tightly holding his hand, she skated around in front and grabbed his other hand.

  “So I’ll stand in front, hold your hands, and we’ll go slow,” she said, giving him her best patient/teacher imitation. “Take a small push, really small.” He did, and what followed was something she would like to forget, torn from the pages of a slapstick movie, all stumbles, arms, legs, and bumbles. He pushed off, a small push, and they were making progress, albeit at a snail’s pace.

  He really couldn’t skate. Her girls’ comments took on a whole other dimension now that he was here in front of her.

  “Very good, let’s just keep this pace,” she said, pleased that he was moving. So what if he was stiff and slow. He was moving and his arms weren’t doing that windmill thing they’d done earlier. “See, it’s not so bad,” she said, smiling at him.

  He smiled back.

  “I’m going to let go of your hand, okay? See if you can do it yourself. I’m going to move to your side, just grab my hand if you need to balance,” she said, turning and skating around him to stand at this side. He was slow still, but moving forward.

  “See, it just takes practice,” she said. She looked back over her shoulder; they’d moved two feet. Okay, so maybe she wouldn’t be able to share this activity with him.

  “So let’s try and reach the next bench and then we’ll stop for the day,” she said.

  “Not as easy as you thought,” he said carefully, as if talking would get him off-track.

  She smiled Nope. “You’re getting better,” she said diplomatically; she could do encouragement. He smiled back like he wasn’t fooled.

  They had skated about two more feet when Mariah spotted a group of skaters heading right for them. They were about fifteen, and they were moving in a huge clump. Oh, Jesus, how am I going to get Adam out of the way? She tried to calculate the distance to the bench, or at least to the grass alongside the track. It wasn’t that far to the bench, but no way could they make it. She could push him off the road, just a hip check onto the grass; that would work, she thought, but it was too late. The group of teenagers was racing, hell bent, toward them. “Oh, shoot.”

  He turned, trying to look over his shoulder at what had her so concerned, and Mr. Balance Challenged lost it. There went all her hard work to get him stabilized, all gone down the drain. He looked startled. His arms went up wide out beside him, as he reverted to windmills when all else failed. The skaters were too close to avoid hitting him, or each other. She skated around to the front of him and tried to grab his hands. Whoosh, they were moving, she was moving backward, the skaters were around them now, buffeting them. She braced her arms on Adam’s chest, and he held on to her like he was drowning.

  Oh, fuck, she thought and she went to her left, freeing one arm just as a skater hit her, followed by a second. She was twirled around, and at least she was facing forward now. Then Adam hit her from behind, knocking her to the ground as he fell on top of her.

  She pushed her arms forward to brace herself—her second mistake—and felt her right elbow give and twist. Adam was heavy on top of her; he hadn’t used his arms to take the weight from her as he usually did late at night. Why was she thinking about that now? She felt the pressure of more skaters falling on them, until they were one huge pileup of arms and legs, and she was somehow at the bottom of the pile.

  It was quiet for a second before she heard a few groans, hers mixed in with them, too. She lay there until the others were removed. Adam had rolled over off her and sat on his butt, glasses in place but slightly askew. Someone asked him if he was okay.

  “Sorry, mister, we came up on the two of you fast.”

  “Mariah,” he said, looking over at her. Her arm was at an odd angle. She sat up then tried to put pressure on it and it wasn’t having it.

  “I think I dislocated my elbow,” she said, sitting up. “I’ve been here before. Two years ago, tried breaking my fall when I was first learning to skate for the derby. Gotta get to the hospital.” She watched as his face underwent all kinds of changes: concern, alarm, and embarrassment all briefly warred before he settled with calm.

  “You should probably take off the skates, and we’ll walk back to the car,” she said.

  “Are you in pain?”

  “Nope, they’ll reset it at the hospital. Then I’ll be in pain. I speak from experience.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, removing his skates. No way was he standing on these things again, if ever. He glanced around him at the other skaters, who appeared uninjured and were getting back in line to begin again. Youth, he thought. He used to be that young and impervious to injury.

  He looked back at her.

  “It’s okay,” she said, reaching for his hand. Mariah didn’t know who looked worse, him or her.

  “Come on,” she said.

  * * *

  Two hours later Adam pulled up next to her home. They’d left the hospital after her arm had been reset. It was resting in a sling now. He’d driven to the pharmacy to pick up her pain meds.

  He touched her leg, shook it a little to wake her. She glanced over at him and then she made the mistake of moving her arm. She snapped back against the seat, grimacing in pain.

  “No sudden moves,” she said, giving him a weak smile.

  “No sudden moves. What do you want to do first?” he asked after helping her inside her home. They both stood in the living room.

  “I’d love a shower,” she said.

  “Sure,” he said and helped her undress, covering her arm with a plastic bag, as per the nurse’s instructions. She stood nude before him while he reached around her and started the shower.

  “Ready,” he said a few minutes later and helped her to step over the tub’s edge. He watched as she tried to wash in between wincing at the small movements that couldn’t be avoided if she did this herself.

  “Let me,” he said, shucking his clothes a few seconds later and stepping in behind her. He took the sponge from her hand and proceeded to scrub her, then pushed her under the spray for her to rinse.

  “Done?”

  “Hair?” she said, looking at him, all pitiful and pleading, while pointing to the shampoo bottle sitting in a basket attached to the tub. “I hadn’t planned on it, but since you’re here.” She enjoyed the feel of his hands, strong moving over her head, massaging and shampooing as she leaned back into his body. He was something standing behind her, helping her to get clean. He pushed her head forward, making sure all traces of shampoo were gone. “Done?”

  “Yes, thanks,” she said.

  “It’s the least I could do,” he said, stepping out of the shower and putting a towel around his waist before he found one for her. He wrapped her in a towel and proceeded to dry her, hair and all. Then he helped her dress and found something for her to eat. It was only cheese and crackers, but it would do for now. He gave her a pain pill that knocked her out cold.

  He sat for a while watching TV and watching her sleep. He debated whether to leave now to go home and pick up some clothes. He had work in the morning, but decided to stay here for the next few days. Hell, he was here most nights anyway. They were so far past friendship, and there was no use pretending about what they were becoming or what she was coming to mean to him. He checked his watch, stood up, left her a note, locked up and left to run a few errands.

  He returned a couple of hours later and she was still asleep, finally getting some much needed rest. He’d stopped by the store for drinks and brought leftovers from his home. Elsa’s cooking was overflowing in his refrigerator; he needed to take some to work or ask her to stop for a while, as he was no longer at his apartment much. He’d also stopped by Joshua’s to tell him about Mariah’s accident and that he would look after her.

  This pu
lled a smile and thanks from her brother. Said he was glad he’d hired an additional waitress. Adam found something on TV and sat and waited. He watched her as she slept, pondering again the knowledge that he was falling for her, in spite of his efforts to avoid this, with her or anyone. He felt protective of her; she was becoming more and more his.

  * * *

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  End of the fourth week of August

  Okay, this was starting to get weird, Mariah thought. Adam had taken this helping her too far.

  “What have you done to my brother?” Yvette asked. She watched as Adam, an apron tied around his waist, played bus boy at Mariah’s brother’s restaurant.

  “Not sure,” Mariah said, captivated. He had started helping her brother here at the restaurant in the evenings since she’d hurt her arm. Two weeks he’d been at it, and as much as she’d tried to dissuade him, he wasn’t hearing it. As it turned out, Adam was a pretty good waitress.

  Joshua was at the register now, talking with Jessica, a recently hired waitress who had made it one week and counting.

  Yvette had joined her for dinner. She had been coming to Joshua’s often now, mostly watching her brother. Mariah hoped she wasn’t going to be another female friend lost to her brother’s charms. She glanced over to find Yvette’s eyes trained on her brother. She’d been watching him most of the evening.

  Mariah spotted Casper walking towards them. She was surprised because she hadn’t talked to her friend in a while. The newness of her relationship with Adam, Casper’s practices for the upcoming bout, and her dislocated arm had limited their normal get-together time.

  “Hey, it’s been a while,” Mariah said.

  “I know. Your new boyfriend won’t let you out of his sight,” Casper said.

  “Yvette, this is Casper,” Mariah said, introducing them to each other while ignoring Casper’s comment.

  “I know, the pivot from Team Thunderstorm?”

  “Correct. You know your derby?”

  “I do,” Yvette said, smiling.

  “I thought we told you that Adam couldn’t skate,” Casper said, looking pointedly at Mariah’s arm in its sling.