Luck of Love

by Aleman, Tiffany

  Narrowing his eyes in her direction, a slight grin forms on his face as he replies, “No, you’re not.”

  Swallowing her drink, she chuckles and says, “You’re right, I’m not sorry. That has to be one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard.” Grinning she adds, “And when I see Jake at your parents I’m totally going to ask him about it.”

  “Whatever,” he says rolling his eyes.

  “So Blake, since you’re going to be Dean, did you want to come out with us?”

  “Umm, it just depends I guess. What are y’all thinking of doing?” She says.

  “I don’t know. Dean and I don’t really get to hang out that often, so when he comes to the city we normally just wing it.”

  I watch as she sucks her bottom lip in between her teeth. I know she’s contemplating on whether or not she should go out with us. I know she’s skittish around people. Why, I have no clue, and I don’t think I really care. I like her attitude. I like that she’s feisty. I like that she’s not afraid to stand up to me. I really like that she’s fuckin’ gorgeous. Her body is fucking incredible. She has a little meat on her bones, no bigger than a size nine, I’d say. Her hair is a natural sun-kissed blonde, but her eyes are what pull me in—those insanely beautiful emerald green eyes. Taking a deep breath, she says in an unsure tone, “Yeah, I guess I’ll go out with y’all.”

  “Great,” I say as I look over to catch Dean’s eyes bulging out of his face as he looks at her.

  She sees it too and says, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Shaking his head he answers, “Nothing, I’m just a little shocked. We’ve been to the city a few times; and I’ve tried to get you to come out with me, but you always end up staying with my parents.”

  Shrugging she says, “Yeah, I know.”

  Daniel arrives carrying a tray in one hand, holding it high above his head. Lowering it to the table, he begins passing out our dishes. We all thank him as he tells us he’ll be back to check on us in a little while. We sit silently while eating; I pick up my napkin, wiping my mouth. Then taking a drink of wine I say, “What are you guys up to for the rest of the day?”

  Dean looks up pointing his fork at Blake and says, “Blake likes to do Chinatown when we come here. So, we thought we would do that and catch the five o-clock train back to Jersey since she has to work at nine. You want to come with us?”

  “Yeah, I’m mean, that’s if Blake doesn't mind.”

  Wiping her mouth with her napkin, she looks at me with a smile and says, “No, I don’t mind.”

  With my eyebrows raised, I ask in a disbelieving tone, “Really?”

  Laughing at my reaction she says, “Really I don’t mind. I think it’d be fun. Like you said you and Dean don’t get to see each other often.”

  “All right then,” looking down at my watch to see that it’s already two in the afternoon I add, “how about we get out of here then.” Waving Daniel over, I ask him for the check.

  Pulling in front of Chinatown, I can’t help but notice the look of pure joy on Blake’s face as she smiles like a kid in a candy store. Paying the driver, I exit out of one door while Dean and Blake exit out of the other. Dean and I flank each side of Blake as we walk into Chinatown. Looking down at Blake I ask, “So where to?”

  A smile spreads across her face from ear to ear, as she replies, “Canal Street.”

  Making our way to Canal Street I take in the scents of different spices and herbs wafting through the air. The smells of different meats cooking at the same time drift through the autumn breeze. Street carts lined up and down Canal Street offer anything from pretzels, to hot dogs, to kabobs. Everything’s written in Chinese, from the sign on McDonald’s to the banks that line up and down the street. Making our way further into Chinatown, the only language that seems to be spoken is Chinese, with the exception of the occasional tourists who speak English.

  Nudging Blake with my elbow I ask, “So what makes you like Chinatown so much?”

  Looking up at me with a smile she shrugs and says, “I don’t know, I just do. It’s like an escape from reality. It feels like I’m really in another country, but still at home, you know. I like coming here and buying mindless trinkets. I know they don’t serve a purpose or anything, but I like them.”

  “That’s cool. So what is your story?” I ask her and immediately I regret it. Her face goes blank as her shoulders and back tense. Her eyes leave mine as she looks forward.

  “What do you mean what’s my story?” she asks without even looking up at me.

  Sticking my hands in my pocket I say, “You know, the normal stuff. How old you are, when’s your birthday, what you’re studying at Rowan?”

  “Oh, okay. Well let’s see, I’m twenty-two, but I’ll be twenty-three soon, on December twelfth. I’m a third year student and I’m an advertising major. When I finish college, I plan to move here to the city to work for an advertising firm. I really like it here. It’s always so full of life and there’s always something to do. I’ve already started scouting out firms to apply to for my internship.”

  Relief washes over me after I realize Landon was not trying to ask anything too personal of me. For a second there, I thought he was going to ask me why I’m skittish around people. When asked questions about myself, I tend to keep my answers vague, or steer the topic in another direction.

  With Dean flanked on my left, he barely nudges me with his elbow trying to get my attention. Looking up at him, I raise my hand as a shield covering my eyes from the sun. With a small smile, I know it’s an “I’m-proud-of-you-smile”.

  When I say I’m going to do something, come hell or high water, I’ll get it done. I don’t like to fail. When I told Dean I was willing to try and change, I meant it. I’ve been this way for too long. I’ve guarded myself, kept myself closed off, and pushed too many people away. Ultimately, the only person I’ve done the most damage to is me. Giving a slight shrug of my shoulder, I grin up to him showing my gratitude.

  Passing by a store loaded with trinkets on glass shelves in the front windows, I veer to my right to go in. I have no idea what the sign written in Chinese says; I don’t care. This is just the type of store that I love to venture into when I come to Chinatown.

  The smell of incense impales my senses as I walk into the store. To my right stands an old man behind the register. He’s short in stature and balding, but his eyes are kind as he smiles over at us. I can tell that he realizes that we don’t speak his native tongue. In a thick Chinese accent, the old man greets us, “Hello, how are you today?”

  Smiling back I say, “Fine, and you?”

  “I’m just fine; if you need anything please let me know.” He replies.

  Nodding my acknowledgement at his request, I tug on Dean’s arm and push myself to do the same to Landon’s as a twinge of anxiety begins to course through me. We walk through aisle upon aisle looking at all the different trinkets in the store. There are Buddha statues ranging from pocket size to massive. Elephants that looked carved out of ivory, but aren’t, litter the shelves that we continue to pass. As we continue towards the back of the store, there’s shelving that hold only medicinal herbs. Sifting through the different types of herbs, I feel Landon’s breath fan across my ear as he asks if I’m ready to go. Startled and surprised by the closeness, I barely turn my head to look at him now that we’re at eye level. Taking a step back, I nod my head. Looking behind me for Dean I catch him examining the contents on another shelf.

  Walking in Dean’s direction Landon trails closely behind me. Stepping up to him, I look at what has caught his attention. In his hand, he holds a white stone with Chinese writing meaning inner peace, with inner peace written in English in a beautiful script underneath the Chinese letters. As he holds onto it he says, “I want to buy this.” I have no idea why, so I just go along with it.

  “Okay,” I respond. I look over to Landon to see that he doesn’t get it either when he just shrugs his shoulders. Dean walks to the register and pays for t
he item. Returning over to us he says, “You guys want to go to the park?”

  When Dean mentions going to the park I automatically know he’s talking about Columbus Park. Walking to the park, I couldn’t help the bemused feeling that overtook me. It’s a vast open space with copious amounts of trees. People of all different ethnicities pass by us talking, walking their dogs or running.

  I walk briskly over to a park bench that sits nestled between two large trees. The picture is both breathtaking and serene. Red, orange and yellow leaves hang from their branches, draping over the lone bench. Taking a seat in the middle of the bench, I tilt my head back and breathe a sigh of relief. I take in the sounds of the birds chirping, the colors that hang above me, and the slight breeze. I block everything else out, no past, no present, no future—this moment is the only thing that I hold onto.

  I feel the weight of the bench dip to my left, but don’t look to see whom it is. The scent of his cologne drifts with the breeze in my direction. I know it’s not Dean. This cologne smells of something citrusy—maybe lime—and musk. Landon. My eyes barely crack open as I peer over at him through the corners of my eyes. His face looks peaceful with his eyes and mouth closed, just breathing through his nose. Closing my eyes I take a deep breath when he says, “This is nice.” I don’t know if he’s expecting me to answer, so I remain quiet. “I haven’t done anything like this since I was kid.”

  “Where’s Dean?” I ask.

  “He saw an old friend across the way and went to say hi,” he replies.

  With my eyes still closed quietly I ask, “What was your childhood like?” A few minutes pass as Landon and I sit quietly enjoying the peace around us. I give him time, not pushing him for an answer. I know I’d need more time than one would like to give if asked that question. He finally speaks.

  “It was good. I never wanted for anything, and my parents loved me a lot. My dad was always busy, but made sure to make time for me. My mom stayed at home so we spent a lot of time together. We’re still really close even now that I’m thirty-two.”

  “You and your mom, or you and your dad,” I ask.

  “Me and my mom, though my dad and I are close too, just in a different way.”

  “Why was your dad always busy?” I know I probably shouldn’t be so intrusive, but I’m curious.

  “He was a judge. He’s retired now.”

  Scoffing I say, “Boy would my dad love you.”

  Silence builds around us as neither one of us knows what to say. I can feel him watching me, and even though I don’t want to look at him, I do anyhow. Opening my eyes, I barely turn my head and see the curiosity behind his eyes. Before he can even ask I say, “My dad’s a lawyer. He always assumed that I’d follow in his footsteps, and when I told him I wanted to work in advertising our relationship turned sour real quick.”

  Looking into his eyes, I wait to see the pity, but it never comes. Instead, only understanding reflects back at me. Reaching over he grabs my hand. My breath catches as I stiffen from the contact. I’m not sure what to think of this. I mean it’s not intimate in any way. He hasn’t tried to intertwine our fingers—it’s comforting. I don’t know what has happened between him and his father, but obviously it’s a sore spot for him as well as it is for me.

  I didn’t tell him that my father and I drifted apart way before that. That when I started closing myself off from my friends, family and reality, both of my parents knew something had happened to me. They didn’t ask and I didn’t tell. They both turned a blind eye, and buried themselves in their work. I’ve become a shell of the person I used to be, and never really outgrew it.

  I jump from the sound of a throat clearing near me. My eyes spring open, and my reprieve’s interrupted. Seeing Dean with a smirk on his face eyeing our joined hands, I immediately pull my hand out of Landon’s grip. With a raised eyebrow Dean asks, “You ready to go?”

  Nodding I stand up, stretching in the process. A yawn escapes me as I ask, “What time is it?”

  Pulling his phone out of his pocket checking the time he says, “It’s almost four. We need to head back to the train station so we can get home in time for you to start your shift.”

  “All right.” I say. Landon stands and we all set off to get a cab.

  As the cab pulls up outside of Penn Station Dean exits first, while Landon tells the driver to hold on for a second. Sliding out after Dean I see Landon exit out of the other door. Landon walks around the back of the cab and tells Dean goodbye, giving him one of those guy hugs, where they shake hands and lean into a hug just briefly while maintaining a good amount of distance between their chests. I wave at Landon signaling my preference in saying goodbye. I don’t think I’d be able to handle it if he hugged me. Ignoring my gesture, he saunters up to me and says, “You’re still coming with Dean in a couple weeks right?”

  Cocking my head in confusion I say, “Yeah…why?”

  “I was just making sure.” I can tell by the uneasiness in his tone there’s something else he wants to say, but thinks better of it. Taking a step towards me, he opens his arms like he’s going to hug me, but when he sees my whole body tense, he drops his arms and nods in understanding and begins to walk back over to the cab. Looking over his shoulder at me he says, “I’ll see you in a couple weeks then.” Waving at both Dean and I he adds, “Take care.”

  Dean and I watch the cab pull away from the curb and into congested New York City traffic. Looking at each other, I shrug my shoulders because I have no idea what that was all about. Dean stretches his hand out to me, and I take it as we make our way into the train station.

  Sitting on the train, I lean my head up against the window. I watch as husbands hug their wives and children goodbye—for what I don’t know. I focus on the conductor as he paces back and forth in front of the train waiting for the rest of the patrons to board so that he can depart. Turning my head looking forward, the train is not anything spectacular. Worn red leather covers the bench seats. Carpet runs down the middle of the aisle with rope lights that illuminate each side. Wood paneling makes up the walls in the cabin. Reading lights embedded into the walls are above the windows.

  Dean’s leg nudges mine as he pulls the sign he bought out of a bag. Holding it in both hands, he turns in my direction and hands it to me. Looking up at him, I smile taking in its beauty. It’s simple and plain, but beautiful. “I bought this for you,” he says.

  My jaw drops as I take in his words. Before I can reply he adds, “Inner Peace, that’s what I wish for you Blake, and today I saw it. When you were sitting on that park bench, you looked so peaceful, like you didn’t have a care in the world.”

  Shaking my head, words escape me as I swallow the lump in my throat while trying not to cry. Clutching the stone in my hand, I reach out for him and pull him into a fierce hug. He can be so sweet sometimes, and it’s times like this that I’m so thankful that I have him in my life.

  Walking into our apartment, I was beat. I had a good day with Dean and Landon, but now all I could think about was the desire to crawl into my bed, under my cozy comforter and go to sleep. Dropping my purse on the floor next to the door, I walk over to the kitchen and pull a bottle of water from the fridge.

  Taking a pull from the water bottle, I hear Dean yell from the hallway, “I’m going to hop in the shower.”

  “All right,” I yell back at him.

  It’s already seven forty-five and I have to be at work in little over an hour. Dean’s off tonight, so he mentioned on the way back home that he would come down to the bar to keep me company.

  Twisting the cap back onto the bottle, I put it on the counter only to see that damn business card Derrick gave me staring back at me. I left it on the counter this morning and forgotten all about it, until now. Picking it up, I head back to my room.

  Climbing onto my bed, I cross my legs and stare at the card I hold in my hand. Dean had said he thought I should call him. A part of me really wants to, but I just don’t know. I groan and lean my face into my hands b
ecause I’m so conflicted. The new part of me that I’m working hard on says, ‘call him’, while the scared and cautious old me says ‘are you fuckin’ crazy’?

  Uncrossing my legs and throwing them over the edge of the bed, I stand up, reach into the back pocket of my jeans and pull out my cell phone. Pacing back and forth in front of my bed, phone and Derrick’s number in hand, I list off all the reasons why I should and shouldn’t call him. It’s too soon, not really, I’ve met him three times now. You’re supposed to be taking baby steps, yeah but he did give me his number and hoped that I would use it. You don’t really know him, that’s true but he did save me from getting my ass beat by that drunk last night.

  Shrugging my shoulders I think, screw it, I’m going to do it. Unlocking my phone, I plug in Derrick's number, and as I’m about to press send I think better of it. Anxiety courses through my veins as I tell myself over and over ‘you can do this Blake, it’s just a damn phone call’. Rolling my shoulders back, I take a deep breath in, hold it a couple of seconds and exhale slowly, trying to calm my nerves. Trying again, I go to hit the send button a second time, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I can text him, that’s a lot less personal and not near as frightening. Deciding that texting him is my better option, my nerves can finally quit inflicting havoc on my stomach.

  Me: Hey, it’s me Blake, just thought I’d see how your day went.

  Releasing a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, I toss my phone onto my bed. If he texts me back then he texts me back, if he doesn’t then he doesn’t. A small part of me knows that I would be disappointed if he didn’t text me back.

  Walking over to my closet, I scour through all of my clothes hanging up. Deciding on a pair of Daytrip boot cut jeans and an off-white camisole to go under my black tank top, I lay them out on my bed, and head for the shower.