Tempus

by Tyra Lynn

  I always found excuses to get rid of guys; too tall, too short, too hairy, walked funny, talked funny, didn’t drive well enough. I figured that if something bothered me within weeks of first dating, and it always did, there was obviously no way we would end up together, so why continue? I was being nice, really. I wasn’t wasting their time, and I wasn’t wasting mine either.

  The first and only guy who had ever broken my heart was Steve. That thought brought me back to the present and the cause of my nostalgic stroll through ex-boyfriend land. Steve, though I hated to admit it, was still a good-looking guy. If I were completely honest, he was better looking now than back when I had my crush on him. He had started working out a couple of years ago, and though he wasn’t exceptionally tall, his muscles made him look huge.

  He still had short, spiky blonde hair, almost white on the tips. His green eyes seemed even greener today, and they were shaped like cat eyes, turned up a little at the outer corners. His eyelashes were dark, much darker than his hair, as were his eyebrows. Blondes weren’t my type, but as far as blondes go, he was probably the best looking one I knew, beside Claire the Queen. And Alecia.

  CHAPTER V

  Perfection is attained by slow degrees; it requires the hand of time.

  —Voltaire

  The thought of Alecia brought me back to reality. I had to have been imagining things; Steve could not have been flirting with me. Next to Alecia, I still looked like that thirteen-year-old goofy kid that had tried to kiss him on the swing. That one thought settled things in my mind and put me back on track. Shopping. New clothes. My phone!

  I hopped up from the chair, placed the book back on the shelf, and went out into the mall. I passed the first couple of stores and decided where I would go first. I found the little kiosk I was looking for, tried out a couple of phone cases, and settled on one that suited me—black leather with plain black stitching. I liked black.

  From there I found my way to a clothing store I had never even set foot in. It was all the rage, and everyone who was anyone shopped there, or so I had heard. I didn’t like most of the stuff, but a couple of things caught my eye. I picked out a few pairs of skinny jeans and some ‘jeggings’ to try on, a cute little black and red corset vest, a black lace pull-over tank, a gray racer back sleeveless cardigan top with lace on the bottom, several other girly tops that caught my eye—stuff I normally would never wear.

  I changed from outfit to outfit, checking myself in the mirror each time, making two piles. On the right were my keepers; on the left were my wouldn’t-be-caught-dead-ins. I was surprised that the bigger pile was the keepers for a change. This is where I needed Mom. Mom was a girly girl, and she had wanted me to be a girly girl. Every school picture I had was a girly girl picture, until after.

  I tried to imagine myself through Mom’s eyes. What would she pick? I wandered out of the dressing room with the keepers and browsed the racks. All the lacy things jumped out at me, pastel colors, frilly and feminine. I groaned internally. A makeover I could do, but frilly pastels and I did not get along anymore. I could compromise, though. Pastels in chic styles I could do. Frilly, but dark, I could do. Maybe a gothic look, just a little. A girly Goth. Or not.

  The young sales clerk noticed me then and approached, nearly dancing on her tiptoes. She all but pirouetted around me—a ballerina with a nose ring—making me slightly self-conscious. She didn’t say a word, just grabbed a few things here and there, and held them out to me with a smile, her eyes all a-twinkle. I dutifully took them and returned to the changing room.

  I tried everything on, and to my surprise, each item fit perfectly, flattered my shape, and made me feel girly, but not uncomfortably so. I added the things to my keepers, and then grabbed the entire pile to head to the front. Even though Dad had offered to ‘treat’ me, I couldn’t let him pay for my frivolity—he could buy me ‘practical’ clothes later. I just about fell over when the total popped up, but I never lost my composure, handed over my debit card, and punched in my pin number.

  I continued through the mall, shop by shop, finding some shoes and boots and a few accessories. I hated shopping, but I was having fun today. I felt like I was building a new and improved me. As I passed one of the smaller shops, I saw they were offering free makeovers—a bid to sell ridiculously over-priced makeup, no doubt. I thought ‘why not’ and slipped through the doorway.

  The clerk was all too happy to show me to a chair and sing the praises of the latest ‘back to school collections.’ She worked on my face and chattered away, asking me to close my eyes, suck in my cheeks, or pucker my lips as needed. I complied, and in a shorter time than I had feared, she spun me around to face the mirror. I was stunned.

  The girl looking back at me was beautiful. Her eyes were dark, mysterious, and smoldering. Her complexion was flawless, her cheekbones well defined, her lips full. She looked older, much more mature, and rather sensual. My dad would kill me.

  I bought everything she had used, including the brushes, and had her give me tips and pointers before I left.

  I decided to do something that would normally seem very odd to me, but today I felt different. I found the nearest bathroom, dug through my new clothes, and changed right there in a stall. Off with the old me, and on with the new. The finishing touch was clipping on my new phone in its new black leather holster case.

  I checked myself out in the wall mirror near the sinks and groaned. My hair didn’t look right. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a proper haircut, so that was next on my list. There were several places in the mall, so I picked the one with the fanciest name and asked if they had time for me. The stylist ushered me back, asking what look I was going for. I had no idea.

  She flipped through a few books with me, and I pointed out some cuts I liked, or at least the things I liked about the different styles. We decided that leaving it long was best, but she wanted to give it some layers and add highlights. I had never colored my hair, not even a little, but since this was the new me, I told her to go for it. I made it clear I didn’t have a lot of time to spend working on my hair, so it had to be something I could work with that wouldn’t take forever.

  The cutting and coloring took ages, but once that was done, all she did was wash, rinse, and dry. I watched as my hair fell into place, soft and feathery around my face, cascading over my shoulders. It looked so shiny, shimmering as the light reflected off the newest shades of color throughout. I had never loved my hair so much.

  After a substantial tip, and a more substantial bill, I glided back out into the bustling mall. I was starving, and when I looked at the time, it was clear why. I decided I should end my day, call Dad, and get home. Perhaps I would parade around the mall while I waited, though; I hated wasting a good dressing-up. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number as I strolled along with my bags slung over my shoulder, pretending to be nonchalant.

  “Timeless Treasures, this is Steve, how may I help you?”

  Him again. “Hey Steve, let me talk to Dad.”

  “Hey, Jessie. Your dad’s in the back cataloging all that new stuff. He told me to just lock the store, pick you up, and take a late lunch when you called. Took you long enough, I’m starving!”

  “Yeah, yeah, sorry to ruin your day. Just meet me at the main entrance in fifteen then.”

  “You got it.” He hung up without fanfare.

  While I was strolling and talking, I noticed I had been getting a few looks. Quite a few looks. I knew by the type of looks that they were appreciative. One poor guy got a whack to the back of his head from his girlfriend for it. That made me smile, but not until they had both passed by. I was going to like the new and improved me.

  As I headed for the main entrance, my phone rang. It was fun to pull out my phone to answer, as if I had always had one. I tried not to make a production out of it, but I couldn’t help myself. Now I was acting weird.

  “Hello.” I answered, elongating the ‘oh’ sound.

  “Jessie! You got a phone!” It was Ju
lie.

  “Ohmigod, yes! Dad left it for me this morning! You should see it!” I went outside and sat on a bench near the front doors. We laughed and talked over each other for the next fifteen minutes, until I heard the monster approaching—the sound was unmistakable. I had been sitting with my head down, shielding my eyes from the sun with my hair while we talked. Julie would be back tomorrow, and we made plans to spend the day together. I told her goodbye, hung up, and slipped my phone back in its case.

  I looked up, and Steve was watching the people coming out the doors. He was raised up in his seat, looking over heads and into the mall entryway, searching for someone. I wondered if Alecia was back, since this was her favorite place on the planet. I walked over to the truck and climbed up, opening the door and tossing in my bags.

  “Who ya looking for?” I asked as I took my seat.

  Steve appeared to choke on his own tongue for a second. “J-J-Jessie?” he managed to stammer.

  “God, Steve, WHAT?” I snapped. The last thing I wanted was for Steve to ruin my very good day by being an idiot.

  “J-Jessie.”

  “Juh Jessie WHAT?” If he did that one more time, I was going to hit him in a green eye, maybe even both of them. Then I noticed the actual look on his face. It was definitely shock, but it was something else. It was as if he didn’t even know me, like some stranger had just climbed in his truck and made themselves at home.

  I opened the door and started to get out. I had no idea where I thought I was going. Just out. Out is where I was going. That snapped him out of his stupid stammering.

  “Jessie, wait! Stop! Close the door!” He all but shouted the words at me.

  “Why, Steve, so you can make fun of me? So you can tell me how ridiculous I look? So you can tell me what Dad’s going to say?” I was furious with him for ruining my mood, so I slammed the door and glared at him.

  His eyes darted to my lips and back up. It was almost too quick to notice, more like his eyes ‘flickered.’ He took a deep breath and said, “Hold on just a second. I need to move.”

  Steve drove the truck around through the parking lot and pulled into a space. He just sat there while I continued to glare, but I wasn’t quite as angry as I had been at first. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but I could tell his mind was racing by the expressions that crossed his face. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was having a conversation with himself. My dad had those sometimes—internal conversations.

  “Okay. I don’t know what the hel... heck to say. Umm.” He ran his fingers through his spiky hair. I hoped it poked him. “Okay. I tell you what. Are you hungry?”

  “That’s a question. You don’t tell a question.” I said sarcastically.

  “Yeah. Well, are you hungry? I thought maybe we could stop at that Mexican food place on the way home. I’m seriously starving. You have to be hungry. Are you hungry?”

  My stomach decided to answer for me, long and loud, regardless of what my plans may have been. I was honestly starving too, so I nodded my head and turned to look out the window. I knew I was acting juvenile, but I was annoyed. If it had been any other guy, I would have said his reaction was because he liked what he saw. I didn’t read Steve well, and I knew that from experience, so I had stopped trying a long time ago.

  “So, you did something different to your hair. It looks really—it’s pretty. It sparkles.” He tried to draw me into conversation as we pulled out of the parking lot. “And those clothes. They look good on you. Not your usual stuff.”

  All I said was “Mmm.” It was the best ‘thanks’ I could muster at the moment.

  Steve turned up the stereo, but not as loud as usual. We rode the next few miles in silence, except for the music, and I pulled out my phone and played some dumb game. I saw him glance over several times. Some glances lasted longer than others. I pretended not to notice, and concentrated on making a worm thing eat dots.

  When we pulled into the parking lot of El Matador, I put my phone away, disconnected myself from the monster, and hurriedly climbed out. I was already walking toward the doors before Steve got his own door open. He jumped down and yelled, “Wait up!”

  I stopped and waited until he jogged up beside me, and when we got to the door, he held it open. I ducked under his arm and stepped inside.

  It was dark after being out in the glaring sun and my eyes took a moment to adjust. We waited in silence until someone came to seat us. She took us to a small table in the dimly lit back area, handed us two menus, asked for our drink order, and told us our waiter would be with us ‘shortly.’

  Steve opened his menu as she walked away. “I know what I want. What do you want?”

  I didn’t even open my menu. I was ravenous, and already knew what I wanted. I gave him a one-word answer, “Fajitas.”

  The waiter came to our table with chips, salsa, and our drinks and then asked for our order. Steve answered, “Two beef fajitas,” then looked at me for confirmation, so I nodded. “No appetizers,” he added.

  As soon as the waiter was gone, he leaned on the table toward me. “So what is this?” He gestured with his hand to indicate me.

  “I don’t know. Guess I wanted a change. I was in a good mood…” The words trailed off.

  “What do you mean was? You look fantastic. I almost didn’t recognize you. No, I didn’t recognize you until you got in my truck.” He dipped a chip into the salsa and stuck the whole thing in his mouth, crunching.

  “Yeah, well. Thanks, I guess.” I filled my mouth with my own chip, thinking maybe he would stop talking. He didn’t.

  “So why did you decide you needed a change now?” He stuck another chip in his mouth and crunched.

  “When else? Now is always best time.” I did my best Yule Brenner ‘kings’ accent. Then I laughed, because I knew he had no clue why I had said it, or why that way. “Yule Brenner. The King and I. Watch it some time, get some culture.” In went another chip, and I crunched.

  We went back and forth like that until the chips were gone and the food arrived, then neither one of us was interested in talking. I didn’t care if I looked like a pig while I ate, I was so hungry. I couldn’t slap the fajitas together fast enough. As I ate the last bite of my last fajita, well after Steve had devoured his, I leaned back and realized how tight my jeans felt. It had been fun dressing up, but I was wishing for a pair of sweat pants right now, one size too big. I was stuffed.

  Steve insisted on paying the bill and left a respectable tip. I thought I was going to have to ask for help standing up. Standing wasn’t the hard part; it was the leaning forward first that almost kept me seated. I managed to push myself up while Steve wasn’t looking, though, and I waddled behind him until he held the door again. Ducking was not fun.

  As we got to the monster, I thought there was going to be no way to raise my legs high enough to climb into that truck, not without exploding. I got to my side first and just looked, assessing the situation, figuring out how I could lean backwards, grab something, and maybe use my arms to hoist myself in. Steve reached around me and opened the door, and before I knew what was happening, he had his hands on my waist.

  “Grab that handle inside when I lift you up.” Before I could say a word, he had lifted me to the open door. I grabbed the handle in question, but Steve held on to my waist for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. He released his grip, but did not remove his hands. I pulled myself up, slid free, and onto the seat. I didn’t say anything, but I smiled as he stepped back and closed the door. I had forgotten about my stomach.

  I didn’t know what to make, exactly, of his actions and behavior. I had avoided his company as often as possible for most of my teenage years. I didn’t hate him, it was more that I was mortified over what had happened, and I never got over it. I had tried to hate him, but never could. The best I could manage was a version of indifference, facilitated by previously mentioned avoidance. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling now.

  He climbed into the driver’s seat, sa
t there for a second looking at me, then reached across my lap. Once again, I had forgotten to buckle myself in. This time I didn’t slap his arm away. I just sat there, and looked at his face. His eyes would glance at mine, at the seat belt, and back up again.

  It took him a while, mainly because I think he was taking extra time, but I wasn’t entirely sure. I could smell his cologne. I could also smell his hair gel, a pleasant, clean, masculine scent. I didn’t know gels had gender specific scents. When the belt clicked into place, he left his hands on it and looked up into my eyes for a moment before slowly leaning away and starting the truck.

  My heart picked up, just a little. Just enough for me to notice. It felt very strange, because I could see in his eyes, now, that he was feeling something too. I had no doubt, and I saw him glance again at my mouth and up, just before he reached over and cupped my chin. His thumb caressed the corner of my mouth, and I sat there frozen.

  “Guacamole,” he offered as an explanation, but he didn’t release my chin.

  I considered whether I should say anything, or wait to see if he had more to say, but I couldn’t continue to just sit here, my chin in his hand. Not with all the questions I had, questions that started popping into my head, one by one. The first question escaped without warning. “What about Alecia?” I screeched that one. I hadn’t meant to.

  He released my chin and smiled. “Oh, yeah. You don’t know. We split up a month ago.”

  “But Dad said she was coming back, like you were working so much because... Why doesn’t my dad know?”

  “C’mon, Jessie. Think for a second and you tell me.” He grinned at me.

  Ah. I did know why. When Steve and Leslie split up, my dad was constantly trying to set him up, and give ‘love advice,’ and asked all kinds of embarrassing questions. Steve almost quit just to get away from Dad. Duh. I shook my head and grimaced.