Poemsia

by Lang Leav

  “Where is here?” I asked, my eyes searching his.

  He answered like I had asked him a trick question. “The rest . . . of our lives?”

  A tide of emotion swelled up in my chest. “Sash—”

  “Wolf,” he murmured, and his mouth found mine again. For some reason, I thought of the scene in The BFG where Sophie had her first sip of Frobscottle. It was like a sugar rush straight to my bloodstream that ran down instead of up.

  He traced my lips with the tip of his thumb. “I think this could really be something. Don’t you?”

  “I think it could be everything.”

  The following day, I met Jess outside Mei Lyn’s office.

  “Sash kissed me!” I announced.

  Jess grabbed my shoulders. “And?” she practically yelled.

  That morning, I had woken up to two texts. One with a single red rose emoji from Sash and one from Jess all in caps instructing me to get down to Mei Lyn’s office ASAP because there was NEWS. Even though I was dying of curiosity, my mind and, not to mention, my body kept drifting to the night before. It was like Sash had flicked a switch somewhere, and I was in a perpetual state of arousal. I literally had to change my underwear twice that morning.

  “Told you he was hot for you,” Jess beamed when I gave her a quick recap of the night before.

  “Speaking of hot, what’s with your professor?”

  She glanced at her phone. “Whoops, we’ve got to go in; don’t want to keep Mum waiting.” We walked through the glass door and into the reception area. Donna smiled at us from behind the desk. “Go straight through, girls.”

  In her office, Mei Lyn was pacing up and down, talking furiously on her phone. The moment she saw us, she ended the call and threw her arms out for emphasis. “Verity! Do I have news for you—big, big news! Carry Way has been in touch, and they want you—get this—in New York when your book launches next month.”

  “New York?” I cut in. “New York?”

  “New York?” Jess repeated. Our heads kept snapping back and forth, like a pair of squawking parrots, looking from each other to Mei Lyn.

  She nodded impatiently. “Yes. New York. Carry Way is teaming up with Barnes & Noble, and they want to put on a show for you at the Sojourn Theatre. They want to capitalize on all this momentum with Karla Swann sharing your post on Instagram. Oh, and one of their poets will be chairing your event—interviewing you on stage etcetera.” She glanced down at her writing pad, where a mess of her ineligible writing was scrawled. As she scrutinized it, her forehead creased, lips moving silently as though she was trying to work out what she had written. “It seems here that her name is . . . Meenie Row?”

  My mouth fell open. “Do you mean Mena Rhodes?”

  “Yes, that sounds about right. She’s a huge fan of your work.”

  I grabbed Jess by the shoulders, and we jumped up and down, shrieking at the top of our lungs. Mei Lyn shot us a look of disapproval, and we settled down.

  “You don’t understand, Mum. She’s, like, our hero. She’s totally famous and amazing! Like, she does all this charity work, and she’s beautiful and recycles—”

  “She’s got a Frenchie named French Fry. She knits him these tiny sweaters—”

  “I’m following French Fry on Instagram—Mena took him to a café yesterday and got him a puppacino.”

  I clapped my hands around my face. “I can’t believe she’ll be chairing my event. Like, seriously, is this really my life? Guess I don’t have to worry about no one showing up!”

  “Remember when she chaired Sara Woo’s event? Sara was literally unknown, and suddenly she was huge, all thanks to Mena Rhodes. They call it the Mena effect. Everything she touches turns to gold.”

  “Oh my God, Jess. I’m going to get the Mena effect!”

  This set us off again.

  “Girls!” Mei Lyn clapped her hands, her voice as sharp as a drill sergeant’s. We straightened up, heads snapping to attention. “So here is the deal. I managed to wrangle business class tickets for you, Verity.”

  “Oooh, fancy,” said Jess.

  “Whoa! I’ve never flown business before! Can Jess come with me?”

  “Um, not sure if you’re aware of this, but plane tickets cost money.”

  A sudden thought popped into my mind. “What if we traded the business ticket for two economy fares?”

  “That could be arranged, and I can give Jess a bit of pocket money to spend while she’s over there. She can visit Aunty Hoy and finally meet cousin Pei Pei.”

  Jess shot out of her seat. “Really, Mum?”

  Mei Lyn smiled benevolently at her daughter. “Yes, really.”

  Then Jess turned her head slowly, her eyes meeting mine. The realization dawned like sunlight on her face. “Vare,” she breathed.

  “MOMA!” I cried.

  “Barnes & Noble!” she shrieked.

  “Central Park!”

  “Times Square!”

  We squealed so loud that Mei Lyn had to thump her tabletop several times more than usual.

  Sash was at the store when I got back. He looked dangerously sexy in full building gear, hands clamped around a mallet, ready to strike at an old water-damaged wall.

  “Hey!” he said, putting it down.

  “Where’s Pop?”

  He took off his goggles and came up to kiss me.

  “He’s gone to pick up sandwiches.”

  “Do you know when he’ll be back? I have really exciting news!” I couldn’t wait to tell him, so I began spilling all the details of my meeting with Mei Lyn.

  His face lit up. “Go, you!”

  I beamed at him. “And Jess is coming with me, too!”

  “Ha! I can just see the two of you, strutting down Fifth Avenue like you own it. Can I take you out to celebrate? It’s just occurred to me that we’ve never been on a proper date.”

  I clapped my hands. “Yes! I’d love to go on a date with you!”

  “Tomorrow night?”

  “Why not?”

  “OK, I’m going to plan something unforgettable.”

  “What do you have in mind?” I asked.

  “Well, what’s the most exciting date you’ve been on? I want to know what I’m up against.”

  “In the ninth grade, Vic took me to the gaming arcade armed with a bag of shiny coins and told me I could play any machine I wanted.”

  “Wow, how can I possibly compete with that?”

  “I wouldn’t wanna be you.”

  He laughed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him hard. “You know what—I’ll bet you could take me on the most boring date ever and it would still be the best date.”

  “Hey, why don’t we test that theory?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “You want to take me on a boring date?”

  “Not just any old boring date—the most boring, blandest, dullest date ever.”

  I laughed. “OK, you’re on. Let’s see what you’ve got, mister!”

  Our date kicked off at the State Library, where we attended an hour-long lecture by Professor Imran Frey, who spoke at length about the subject of topography and its relevance in the urban landscape. Frey spoke in a monotone voice and had all the charisma of the subject matter he was relaying to the audience of mostly middle-aged men. Once in a while, someone would cough, look around self-consciously, and mutter, “Pardon me.”

  When it was over, we stood on the steps outside, and Sash turned to me with a self-satisfied grin. “How was that?”

  “That was fantastically boring!”

  “How about Frey, huh?”

  “He might as well have been a GPS.”

  “So have I done OK so far?”

  “Oh, you’ve done more than OK, buddy.” I winked at him.

&
nbsp; “Well, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

  I rubbed my hands with glee. “Ooh! What’s next?”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes! Starving. Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see!”

  He took my hand and led me to his car parked at the curb. I was bouncing with excitement as my mind went through every uninspiring restaurant I knew. I wondered whether we were going to that salad place where the staff gave you judgmental looks if you asked for extra dressing.

  “Where to, Captain?” I asked.

  “We’re here.”

  My mouth fell open. “What?”

  He popped the glove compartment. Inside were two pieces of plain white bread wrapped in cling film and a bottle of water.

  I laughed. “Well, just when I thought you couldn’t possibly outdo yourself.”

  “Your dinner, madam,” he said, with a flourish of his hand. He gave me a piece of bread and a plastic cup. But when he poured the water, he missed the cup and it sloshed onto my thighs.

  “Woops,” he said and patted me down with a paper towel. His fingers brushed my skin, sending a hot flush of desire through my body.

  “Look at how much trouble you’ve gone to.”

  “Anything for my girl,” he grinned.

  We ate our meal, sneaking kisses in between.

  “Gosh, this really does suck,” he said, chewing on the bread.

  “You wouldn’t be saying that if you were a pigeon—they totally love this stuff.”

  “Seagulls, too—they lose their shit over this kind of thing.”

  “If you could fill your sandwich with anything, what would it be?”

  “Three kinds of cheeses.”

  “What kinds?”

  He wrinkled his forehead. “Gee, that’s a tough question.”

  “Is it really?” I teased, and he swatted at me.

  “I’d probably have a good aged cheddar, maybe a few slices of Camembert, and, ummmm, just a sprinkle of pecorino. How about you?”

  “Tomato and mayo, like Harriet the Spy.”

  “Good God, I’m dating a nerd!”

  “You kind of remind me of a character in that book.”

  “The Boy with the Purple Socks?”

  “Yes!” I said, surprised he’d guessed correctly.

  “You’re not the first person to tell me that. In grade school, someone pointed at me and said, ‘Look! The Boy with the Purple Socks.’”

  “Why would they say that?”

  “Probably because I was wearing purple socks.”

  I doubled over laughing. “You’re such an idiot.”

  “To the world’s most boring date.”

  We tapped our plastic cups.

  “OK, now for dessert!”

  As we approached the ice cream shop, I gave him a sidelong glance. “Uh-oh, looks like we could be playing with fire here.”

  “Trust me,” he grinned.

  I scanned the counter packed with an array of tantalizing flavors and toppings like hot fudge, M&M’s, and rainbow sprinkles.

  “Two vanilla cones, please,” Sash told the girl behind the counter.

  She stared blankly at him. “And?”

  “That’s it.”

  “You don’t want any toppings? Gummy bears? Popping candy?” She gestured to the colorful display. “It’s, like, the same price.”

  Sash shook his head firmly. “Nope, just plain vanilla, thanks.”

  “Vanilla, like our date,” I giggled as she handed over my ice cream. I bit into it with glee.

  We ate our ice cream on the sidewalk, holding hands. When we finished, Sash said, “And now for the grand finale!”

  “Oooooh!” I grinned.

  “Close your eyes and follow me.”

  I did as he asked, keeping my eyes shut tight, even though we had to apologize profusely every time we bumped into someone.

  He came to a sudden stop. “OK, you can open them now.”

  My eyes flew open, and I was standing in front of a park bench.

  I burst into fits of laughter. Placed on the center of the bench was a cardboard sign that read “wet paint.”

  I looked up at him. “What happens now?”

  “We end this uneventful date with the most boring activity known to man.”

  And there, under the soft glow of the lamplight, we stood shoulder to shoulder, literally watching paint dry. Somehow, I was having the time of my life.

  Nine

  A few days later, Sash came over for lunch and Pop had made his favorite—sausages and sauerkraut. We were enjoying our meal out in the courtyard with bottles of Deep Sea Diver. Pop was feeling spritely, buoyed by all the excitement we’d had lately. The small but significant improvements Sash was making to the store also seemed to energize him.

  “Bracket looks like it might be loosening up.” Sash nudged his head up toward the awning above the door.

  Pop followed his gaze. “I think the wood has split right at the joint with the rafter. It’s been years since it was treated.”

  “I’ll look at the damage after lunch and see what I can do.”

  They nodded solemnly at each other.

  I slid off my sandal and moved my foot under the hem of Sash’s jeans. He jolted, banging his knee loudly against the table.

  Pop turned. “You OK, son?”

  “Um, yeah. Just felt like there was a spider on me.”

  “You’ve got to watch those redbacks.” Pop pointed his fork at Sash, looking him dead in the eye. “They can kill you.” Sash looked shrunken. “Ah, I think it’s gone now.”

  “Good.” Pop nodded and went back to his meal.

  Sash kicked me under the table.

  I smirked at him.

  He glared.

  Pop was still under the impression that we were friends, and I was waiting for the right moment to tell him it was more than that. I knew he liked Sash a lot, but Pop didn’t always react so well when it came to the subject of boys. It probably had to do with his overprotective nature. That meant Sash and I had to be discreet, sneaking kisses whenever we could. I have to admit it was driving me crazy, and I couldn’t help finding every opportunity for us to be alone.

  “Verity, could you please pass me the salt?” Pop asked.

  “Sure.” I reached for it, but at the same time, Sash took a sip of his water. His elbow bumped my arm, and I dropped the shaker right into the plate of sausages. One flew across the table onto the floor. Zorro was nearby, saw his opportunity, and was on it in a flash.

  “Ooops.” I shot Pop a nervous grin.

  Sash put his glass down, coughing and sputtering.

  “What’s the matter with you two today?”

  My eyes widened. “Us?”

  Sash turned his attention back to the awning again, concentrating hard. Then he went back to his meal with exaggerated nonchalance.

  Pop looked from me to Sash and back to me again. Then a light bulb switched on in his head.

  “I’m guessing the two of you are an item now?”

  Sash’s fork froze in midair, and his mouth hung open as he shot a panicked glance my way.

  I smiled and looked down at my plate; then I nodded.

  After lunch, Sash and I went to our local hardware store to pick up some supplies. We were in the paint and thinners aisle when he said, “My sister, Marcia, wants to meet you.”

  “Cool! When?”

  “She’s invited us over for dinner tomorrow night.”

  “How do you I know I haven’t made other plans?” I teased. “I’m in real high demand these days, you know. You’ve got to book way in advance.”

  “If that’s the case, can I book you in for next week as well?”

  “Wow—another booking! What’s the occa
sion?”

  “It’s Dad’s birthday. Mum’s throwing a party at the house. Want to be my date? They’re dying to meet you.”

  “Your parents know I exist?”

  “I’ve told them about you, but I’m not sure whether they believe me. They still make quotation marks with their fingers every time they mention the words ‘Sash’s girlfriend.’”

  I laughed. “I think I like them already.”

  Marcia lived in a small apartment block just outside the city. After we were buzzed in, we walked up a short flight of steps to a dark blue door marked 201. Sash raised his hand to knock when the door was flung wide open. A pile of books came crashing down out of nowhere, falling around our feet. “Damn it, Georgie.” A young woman scowled at a furry orange blur darting down the hall. She turned to us and grinned. “Hey, lil’ bro.” Next, she turned to me. “You must be Verity, the girl I’ve been hearing so much about. You’re very pretty!”

  “So are you,” I blurted.

  Her eyes crinkled in the corners. “She’s funny!”

  “I knew you’d like her.”

  I took a good look at Marcia. She had the same striking green eyes as Sash, and she was tall and willowy, dressed in jeans and an oversized white shirt. She had a quiet, calm way about her, and she seemed like the kind of person you’d turn to in a crisis.

  We followed her down a short hall to the living room, sidestepping the litter of books scattered on the floor. It was cozy and warm, with overstuffed couches and colorful throws. A bookshelf took up an entire wall and was filled mostly with anything other than books—stuffed toys, framed photos, and other memorabilia. Books were stacked all along the walls and on the steps of a staircase. As I looked at their assorted covers, I couldn’t help but notice they all had one thing in common; they were books about cats.

  “Marcia collects cat books,” Sash explained, following my line of vision.

  “Which is just as well—they’re easier to keep than cats,” Marcia said cheerfully. “Luckily, we have only Georgie to worry about.”

  A strange yowling sound erupted as we walked past the staircase, and I looked up to see a Maine Coon with his head between the bannister struts, glaring down at me.