Get to You

by Albany Walker

  "I can tell how much you love it. It shows."

  "Thank you," I accept the compliment easily. We're both quiet as I collect my purse from my office. I don’t feel nervous being alone in the store with him, which is unusual. I haven't given myself the chance to be alone with a man in a very long time. Maybe I'm getting past my distrust of unfamiliar men. Truly, only one man earned my abhorrence, so I shouldn't fear them all.

  "Would you mind stepping out so I can set the alarm?" He nods, drops his hat back over his eyes, and waits just outside the door.

  When I reach up to pull the metal gate down further protecting the store, he anticipates my move, and tugs it down for me. I thank him again and engage the lock.

  "Well I'm this way too," I say feeling a bit shy.

  The scuff of our shoes is the only sound for the first block. He shoves his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans and hunches his shoulders up a bit. I watch him as his head tilts following the heavy traffic of cars that still line the streets.

  “Have you always lived here?” he asks.

  “No, I actually grew up in the South. How about you? City or county boy?”

  He looks over at me, his smile reaching his eyes, “A bit of both really. I’ve been living in California since I got out of school, before that, Nevada.”

  “What brings you to New York?”

  My question has him glancing over at me. His lips purse, but his expression ends with a grin returning to his features.

  “Just needed a break.” He fires back with, “How long have you been here?” He doesn’t seem to want to talk about why he’s here.

  I’m surprisingly still at ease as we continue to talk. He throws questions at me about the city, the stores, and the neighborhood as we walk past.

  Almost too quickly, we’re at my door. I stop and gesture to the door, "This is me."

  He looks at the door and nods. Before things can get awkward, I thank him and unlock the door, closing it behind me quickly. I dash up the stairs, not stopping to check my surroundings or the mailbox. It's another first for me, but this time it’s because I’m caught up in the moment and not because of my over vigilance. I tell myself that's why I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

  4

  I am shelving some reserved books behind the register, when I see a canvas B. B. & B. bag tucked into the corner of the shelf. It's been a little over three weeks since I tried contacting Beau through Facebook to let him know he left his purchase at the store. He never responded.

  It colors the rest of my day in shades of disappointment.

  As I walk to work the next day, I try not to take his disappearance too seriously. I was kinda hoping he'd stop by and pick it up. I shake my head at this thought and stride quickly down the sidewalk. I don’t want to look too closely at why I want him to come back. I should just be happy I had a normal conversation with a man, and a man that wasn't geriatric, or gay at that. "I surround myself with men that make me feel safe. They are usually either fatherly or friendly. Beau felt neither of those things; he was certainly too flirty to be just friendly."

  As I reach the store, both Jess and Anna are waiting outside. Anna is holding a large brown paper cone, her face shoved down deep to smell what must be flowers.

  "Somebody must have an admirer," I sing-song. They both look at me and Anna shoves the flowers my way. I see dozens of red carnations; my belly tips uncomfortably. My face must show distress, because Jess pulls Anna's hand back. I'm no longer assaulted with the smell of the one flower that I can't stand.

  "They're for you Sam," Jess says.

  "Huh," I say sounding like I can't manage the English language.

  "Here's the card," Anna flips her free hand forward. A small white card with my name scrawled in messy writing lands in front of my face.

  "I don't want them!" I say a little too loudly. Both women stare at my outburst.

  I rush into the store, turn off the alarm, and throw myself into my office. I'm panting by the time I throw the lock. I close my eyes trying to center myself, but my closed lids serve as a blank background for unwanted memories to project themselves.

  Red carnations everywhere. They were my mother’s favorite flower. The funeral home was bathed in red upon my step-father’s request. A large heart bouquet of them covered her closed casket. The smell was overwhelming, but that's not why I hate them.

  I hate them because when we left, he brought dozens of the flowers home with us. That was the first night he got so drunk. He confused me for my mother. He kept trying to give me the flowers.

  I accepted them after repeatedly saying my name wasn't Naomi and that I wasn’t my mother. He'd become increasingly agitated, then he'd curse me for leaving him, and seconds later he cursed me for not being my mother. His actions were unpredictable, never making sense.

  Looking back, I think he must have known I wasn't my mother, no matter how how much he drank.

  He was pretending. He wanted to punish me for not being what he wanted.

  I stopped taking the flowers that he'd bring home everyday after work. He still left them for me. I locked my door at night, but I'd still find the red carnation on my dresser. A few times on the end of my bed. I don't think I ever slept a whole night through, after I started finding them on my bed.

  The phone ringing brings me out of the past. I need to find out where the flowers came from, but right now I just want to forget they exist.

  "Barron's Books and Baubles, how can I help you?" The phone call lasts long enough that I am able to calm myself, but I stay in my office most of the morning. By lunch I step out to find everybody avoiding me, for fear of me snapping at them. Jess stays stationed at her coffee cart but tracks my movements around the store.

  I approach Anna at the front desk, "I'm sorry I was rude to you Anna."

  She smiles and tells me all is forgiven, “Never seen a reaction like that to flowers.”

  I ignore her comment, and get to what I'm truly dreading to ask, "Anna, what did you do with the card and flowers?” My words come out in a rush. I try slowing them down as I finish with, “Did you see who dropped them off?"

  She looks worried when she answers, "I put them in the lounge. I didn't see who dropped them off, but Jess was here before me."

  I nod and head over to Jess.

  "Hey. I’m sorry about earlier. Were you here when they were dropped off?" Jess doesn't bat an eyelash at my pathetic apology

  "Nope, sorry Sam. They were just laying right in front of the door, so I picked them up." She shrugs, "When Anna showed up and saw me holding them, she asked if they were mine. When I said no she grabbed them and started looking for the card. You walked up right after she found it."

  I nod and walk back to the main store, heading for the lounge.

  The flowers are in a leftover vase, from when Anna was dating a guy too cheap to buy crystal. She left the vase here and never went out with him again.

  The white card is suspended by a clear stick. I wasn't imagining things; my name is clearly written on it. The same name I've gone by for seven years. The thought of him knowing my new name is alarming. The possibility of him being anywhere near me is frightening. The letters are large and overly-messy, like they were drawn by a child or someone trying to disguise their writing. No florist name adorns the card, but it is rather small, maybe none would fit. I look closer and see an uneven edge, it was torn.

  My gut tells me that he’s found me, but my brain is trying to rationalize the occurrence and dismiss it as a coincidence. I know I'd rather be in denial then face the chance he's here, in my new life.

  I drop the contaminated vase and flowers right into the trash and empty the half full container. I take the bag out back to our shared trash receptacle, making sure I prop the door on my way out. I don't want to get locked out and stuck in the ally on top of all of what’s happening today.

  As I drop the lid in place, I take a minute to try and relax. I close my eyes and breath deeply. A few breaths in, I hear the do
or creek open, then slam shut. My eyes snap open.

  I hear a male voice mutter, "Shit." I back up slowly, not knowing who it is, and move closer to the front of the ally, but it's still a good block away.

  Should I run?

  I'm crouching behind a large trash bin when I hear, "Sam, you out here?"

  I don't recognize the voice, so I don't answer it.

  "Sam!" He sounds more urgent. "Samantha!" he shouts again.

  I hear rapid footsteps coming my way.

  Don't see me and just pass by, I think over and over as I crouch further behind the trash bin. The footfalls pass me. I'm able to see a large male frame, much larger than him. As the man turns around upon reaching the end of the ally, I notice a blue baseball cap in one of his hands.

  "Beau?" I croak. As I say his name, his head snaps in my direction.

  I stand quickly realizing I'm cowering behind a dumpster.

  "Why didn't you answer?" He sounds agitated. Which makes me angry, he’s the one who scared me.

  "I was scared," I yell at him.

  How this man invokes the complete opposite response from me than any other is mind boggling. I was just frozen in fear of a man half his size, and now I'm yelling at an angry behemoth. The only explanation is---I am losing my mind.

  "Of what?" He asks crossly. I don't know why he's so mad at me, but I can’t find it in me to care right now.

  I throw my hands in the air saying, "An unfamiliar guy yelling my name and running into an alley where I’m basically trapped.” It’s not the entire truth, but I keep it at that, “Why wouldn’t I fucking hide?” It's a lie. We probably both know it.

  He walks up to me close enough to see my face; he stops and stares. He must come to some conclusion, because when he speaks again it's much gentler.

  "At first, I couldn't find you then when I saw you down here, I thought you were hiding from me on purpose." he explains regrettably.

  I can see his whole face uncovered. His eyes are a fresh grass green and his messy hair is longer and lighter than I expected. Taking in these small details gives me pause.

  "I didn't know it was you," I say as a way of explaining.

  His eyes squint and he asks, "Who did you think it was?"

  By the way he asks, I jump immediately to the conclusion that he knows. He knows that I was hiding from someone specific. I try to derail that thought, because it’s impossible.

  I say with more conviction than I feel, "I got spooked. That's all."

  He doesn't believe me. He frowns at my answer, but doesn't push further.

  Looking back towards the door, I ask, "Was that the door I heard slamming?"

  He looks down embarrassed, "Yeah, I tripped over the wedge."

  "No shit?" I ask through a fit of giggles. Now that I know I'm not facing my nightmare, the adrenaline needs a place to go. I start roaring with laughter. He looks over at me as if I'm losing it. I snort, and he starts laughing too.

  When I finally wind down, I tell him, "Thanks I really needed that. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time." I frown at the overshare and vow to better censor myself in his presence. "Well I'm locked out, so I need to walk back around front." My side hurts, and I'm still breathless as I recall reading a book where the heroine is forced to laugh herself to near death. Cursed by a fae, I think. I don't ever want to experience that, so I breathe deeply now, trying to contain my sense of relief.

  We walk up the alley together.

  He doesn't speak until we reach the store fronts, "Sorry I yelled at you. I got scared when I couldn't find you." His hat is already back on his head, covering his face again. I feel more comfortable looking at him but wish I could meet his eyes again.

  "It's okay. It's been a weird day." I bump my elbow into his arm, "And hey, I kinda freaked out on you. We're even."

  He chuckles, "Yeah, laughing at me because I fell over your door wedge so hard you snorted, was pretty bad." The reminder of my not so lady like response makes my cheeks flush.

  "How dare you suggest anything so unbecoming. I would never ever snort." I say in mock outrage. "You, sir, are no gentleman." Am I flirting with him? The realization hits me like a cold shower. I place some much-needed space between us.

  Beau looks down and I swear he’s talking to my breasts as he says deeply, "Never claimed to be one."

  Whoa that voice could melt panties.

  He reaches for the door handle and places his hand on the small of my back to usher me through the door.

  Jess looks up and smiles slyly when she sees us, while Anna looks like she swallowed a wasp. Her face is pink as she sticks her lips out like a little duck. I tilt my head and study her. That's her flirty face. I see her use it on customers. I'm not sure how men find that look attractive, but if I ever did that, I would be in trouble. Someone would probably ask if I was okay.

  Anna wastes no time making her way over to us. Beau notices her sashaying our way and turns his body, so he's standing behind me. It looks like he's using me as a shield. She's undeterred by his overt body language.

  "I see you found Sam," she croons up at him.

  Beau moves even further behind me, "Yeah thanks for your help."

  Anna leans past me and places her hand on his bare forearm. Beau looks down and grimaces. He's clearly uncomfortable.

  I move forward forcing her to step back, "Thanks for telling him where I was Anna." I end my comment in the air, trying to hint that she should head back to the register, but she doesn't take the hint.

  "I told you. I can help with anything you need." she says.

  I think I am witnessing the reason why Anna does not have many female friends. She's a viper. What if I was seeing Beau? Would she still act like this? I shake my head, before that thought goes any further.

  "Anna, there's someone that needs your help." I point to the woman approaching the register. "I can take care of Beau." I cringe when I realize how suggestive that sounds. A choked sound comes from behind me, and my head falls forward. "That sounded terrible," I admit. "You know what I mean," I try to recover.

  Anna seems surprised I’ve dismissed her, but she does return to the register. I choose to ignore my verbal blunder and walk back to my office with Beau.

  "Do woman always behave like this with you?" I scoff. "You've been in my store twice. The first time a cat fight almost breaks out, and today my employee of over a year was dangerously close to sexually harassing a customer in front of her boss." I plop down in my desk chair.

  Beau follows suit dropping into the chair in front of me. He grunts noncommittally.

  After a few moments of silence, someone knocks on the open-door frame.

  Jude pokes his head in to say, "Hey Sam. I just wanted to make sure we're still on for later?" At first, I question what he means, but the twinkle in his eyes tells me to play along.

  "Yeess?" I nod slowly.

  Jude slaps his hand on the door. "See you soon," he says then winks, what a cheeky bugger.

  "Hot date?" Beau inquires.

  "Not that I know of," I answer quickly. He removes his hat and sets it on his knee. His left hands run through his hair causing it to stand up. He pats it back down immediately. My eyes are drawn to his arm as the muscles flex with his movements. I turn away to grab the first piece of paper I see. It’s an application for the one of interviews I have set up. With the hectic morning I had, I’ve forgotten about it. I look up at the wall clock and see the first one should be here in about five minutes.

  Grabbing the papers, I stand, "I have to interview a few baristas. You feel like having a complicated drink? It's on the house. I hate having to test so many.” I look at him, “Don't tell Jude, but the coffee is all about the cream for me," I say half-jokingly.

  Beau stands, rocking on his feet. He seems unsure, like he wants to say no. I remember he's probably just here for his book.

  "If you need to get going, I can grab your book for you right quick."

  He puts his hat back on, and I wonder why he hides under
it. "I guess I could try something."

  I think he's just said yes not to be rude, and it makes me wish I hadn't asked. "Let me grab your book first, that way if you need to get going you'll be set." I add, letting him off the hook.

  As I reach the front, Jess and Jude are leaning close and talking quietly. Anna is looking toward my office. She perks up when she sees Beau coming out. Her makeup, which is always picture perfect, looks even more so now. Did she have time to freshen up?

  I take her in. Her pin straight black hair falls across the front of her shoulders stopping just above her breasts. Anna is model thin. She comes from a family with "old money" and appearance is something she takes very seriously.

  It's rare that I feel intimidated by her looks, but I do today. I guess I've never wanted someone to notice me. I'm being ridiculous. I'm acting drastically out of character for a guy, purely because I am more comfortable around Beau than any other man. He doesn’t belong to me, even if it makes him feel special to me.

  I hear his steps behind me slow as I get closer to the desk. I smile at Anna before rounding the cash register to grab his bag.

  I make my way to where he's stopped, "Here you go." He takes the bag from me and peeks inside. "I just realized I need to interview her first, so it could be awhile before we get to the taste testing.” I look up at him, under the brim of his hat to meet his eyes, “You don't need to stick around. I can use a few of my regulars as guinea pigs." I keep my voice light, like it’s no big deal, which it shouldn't be.

  Beau looks around the store. We're not too busy this time of the day. It's too late for the lunch crowd and too early for the after-work people.

  "I have a few minutes," he says quietly. I'm surprised he's not leaving.

  "Ah okay. Why don't we grab a seat over there? She should be here any minute," he nods. We walk over to the soft, old sofa with two empty chairs angled in front of it, and low table that separates the grouping. I place the papers on the table as Jude walks over to us and extends his hand out to Beau.