by S. E. Babin
“I do miss this,” she said, stepping out from under the overhang in front of the theater and turning her face to the sky.
“Me, too. I haven’t seen it snow like this in years.”
Oh, crap. Why had she said anything? She was practically asking him to bring it up.
“I’m in California now,” he added.
And there it was.
“Yeah. I’m, uh…” In California, too, and actively avoiding you.
“Yeah, it’s okay. Congrats on the getting into the doctoral program, by the way.”
She gave him a quizzical look.
He looked down, shuffled some snow with his foot. “I might have cyber-stalked you a little. I mean, I don’t think it really counts as stalking. I found your Twitter profile. And sometimes I see you comment on Facebook. We have like eighteen mutual friends.”
Nineteen, actually. Not, again, that she was keeping track on purpose. Just. You know, you notice these things.
“Anyway,” he said, looking up, “Good for you. USC’s a great school.”
“Yeah, well so is—” Crap she wasn’t supposed to know he was at Caltech.
He gave her a lopsided grin. “You knew.”
Dammit.
“I’ve been busy.”
“It’s okay, Ming. I didn’t really expect…”
“You could’ve looked me up.”
“Would you have wanted that?”
She said nothing. She wrapped her arms around herself. Suddenly, she was cold.
“Where’d you park? I’ll walk you to your car.”
Was he kidding?
“I can walk myself to my car, Charlie. I’m a grown woman.” In the interest of being able to say she’d at least been polite, she thrust out her hand. “It was nice seeing you.”
He shook it. She gave him a curt nod, then turned and walked toward the lot on the other side of the building. Unfortunately, Charlie Brown followed. Good grief.
“I told you,” she said, looking back at him, “I’m fine.”
He nodded behind her. There was one other car in the lot. His mom’s old Corolla, parked at the opposite end.
“Oh.”
“So I guess… I guess good-bye, then,” he said, almost sadly. Which was rich, coming from the guy who had rejected her. No, Charlie, we’re not going to be pals back in SoCal. So sorry. Seriously, she wanted to ask him what his deal was. But not as much as she wanted to get into her car and turn the heat on. She hadn’t dressed for lingering out in the cold.
The imagined scene between the movie posters came back unbidden.
“Yeah, bye,” she snapped, squelching it.
She stalked to her dad’s Accord, which she had borrowed for the occasion, pulling her sweater sleeves down over her hands for warmth.
She never could figure out what had possessed Charlie to handle the whole prom thing the way he had. If anything, she had been extra nice to him in school. She had, for instance, never once mentioned the time freshman year when he had asked her to a dance only because his parents made him ask someone. They were concerned he wasn’t being “social” enough. So he’d gone and asked the biggest nerd he could find with an XX genotype. And she’d never even brought it up. Fortunately, she had turned him down with some excuse about visiting cousins that weekend (really, what did he expect, coming up to a girl he’d never spoken to outside of class and asking her on a date?), but she’d felt bad when she learned his folks put him up to it (Brian tipped her off). And, actually, in a weird way, it was what made her notice him. What made him stand out from the rest of their dorky peers as someone bordering on relatable.
After that, she sat with him at lunch sometimes, called him if she missed class to get the assignment, passed him the occasional caricature she’d doodled of their teacher in Advanced Bio because she knew it’d make him laugh. It had been the start of what became a real friendship. What she had thought was a real friendship.
Her car was so covered, if there had been others there, she would have had trouble picking hers out. Fortunately, the snow was wet and lightly packed, so it only took a quick sweep of the brush to clear the windows. She willed herself not to look back at Charlie as she worked, though she heard his engine start up and saw the glow of his headlights lighting up in the corner of her eye.
She took a deep breath and let it out. She knew she was fooling herself if she thought it hadn’t affected her to run into him. But there would be lots of time to process her resurfacing adolescent angst and whatever else bobbed up with it. Right now, she just wanted to get the hell out of there.
She dropped into the seat, slipped the belt into the buckle, slid the key into the ignition, and turned it. All one smooth motion. Only one problem. The car didn’t start.
Okay. Okay, no need to panic. She turned the key again. Nothing. Maybe… maybe what? Maybe the cold? Yeah, that was right. She remembered now, the car had trouble in the cold. The starter sometimes took a few tries to catch. But usually it sputtered a little and this time it hadn’t… Okay, well, she would just try again.
Nothing.
Crap.
Okay. She could figure this out. Maybe a fuse? She needed some light in here—
Oh. Shit. Shit. The lights. She didn’t want to look but… Yup. The lights were on. Well, no, they weren’t on. But they were switched on. Because she’d turned them on, driving in at twilight, and then left them on.
Of course. Because she couldn’t just have one simple getaway to herself. She couldn’t just have a tiny bit of Christmas happiness. No. She had to run into Charlie freaking Brown. And have him ruin her favorite Christmas movie by sitting there all smug, like he had never done her any harm. Not to mention inspiring obscene fantasies she didn’t want to be having and… tears were pricking her eyes… and she was freezing and now… her breath hitched… now her battery was—
Knock, knock, knock. “You okay in there?”
Ming jumped about a mile. She turned. Charlie. Standing outside her window, looking concerned.
She took another deep breath and let it out. Just great.
“I’m—” she pulled the window control before realizing it, of course, wasn’t going to budge. She cracked the door. “I’m fine. Battery’s dead.”
“Oh! Let me jump you!”
She shot him an evil look. This time the streetlights made it very clear he was blushing.
“You know what I mean.” She said nothing, so he added with a smile, “Come on, it’s right up my alley. I am an electrical engineer, you know.”
She did know. A very promising one, from what she had seen in her cyber-snooping. He’d won a grant to research some new method of nano-something that might revolutionize something as we know it. The bastard. Not that it had anything to do with him helping her get her car started.
She weighed her options. A few more uncomfortable minutes with Charlie and then on her way home in a warm car or waiting God knew how long for a tow truck on Christmas Day. In the snow. Without a coat.
“Fine.”
He smiled, clapped his hands together. “Great!” She noticed he was wearing the same insulated orange gloves he’d had in high school. They were just as asinine now as they had been then. “Let me just go get my car and… oh, crud.”
Who says “crud”?
“What, Charlie?”
“I just remembered, my mom took all the extra stuff we usually keep in the car out to make room for all her last-minute Christmas shopping. I don’t think she put the cables back.”
“Well, go check, then!”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I don’t have to. I saw them sitting in the garage when I left earlier. I was going to grab them, but I was already late for the movie. I didn’t want to miss any of it.”
She really wished he had missed all of it at this point.
“An electrical engineer with no jumper cables on him. Impressive.”
“Cute, Ming. Very cute. Do you have cables?”
Did she? Wait, yes, she
did!
“Do I have cables?” Thank goodness one of them was prepared.
She brushed past him and walked around to the trunk, where she grabbed the jumble of cords and thrust it at him. He fumbled with it.
“Does the electrical engineer need me to help him with that?”
“Nooo. Uh…”
Jeez. “What?”
“Ming, this is only one cable. This is a single jumper cable.”
Crap. Really? “Maybe the other one’s still in the—”
“No. It’s empty,” he said, looking into the trunk.
“Oh.” And then the jerk actually started cracking up.
“This is funny to you?”
“I just… I didn’t even know it was possible to have only one—I mean, they usually come permanently attached to each other.”
She glared at him. “Your parents should have just named you ‘Blockhead.’”
His smile dropped. “You know, Ming, I’m just trying to help you. You don’t need to snap at me.”
She didn’t need to, but it sure felt good. She grabbed the tangle of useless cable back from him and shoved it back in the trunk, which she slammed shut.
“Well, thank you, anyway. I don’t need your help. I’ll just call Triple A.” She pulled out her phone, hoping the number was stored. If it was, it didn’t matter. The phone was dead, too.
Was this some kind of punishment for opting to go to the movie over the game of fortune cookie dreidel her parents had offered to play?
“Here.” Charlie handed her his phone. 96 percent. Typical.
She dug out her membership card, made the call, and handed the phone back to him.
“Thanks. All set. You can go now.”
He shrugged. “I’ll wait with you.”
She shot him a tight smile. “Very gallant, but I’ll be fine.”
“You have no phone, the place is deserted, it’s snowing heavily, and you’re dressed for winter in Los Angeles, and how long did they say it’d be?”
She could lie. He’d probably know she was lying and make a big deal of it, though.
“An hour or two,” she mumbled.
“I’m staying.”
“At the most. And only because… the storm’s so bad,” she added quietly. Not really helping, Ming.
“I’m staying.”
“Fine,” she said, refusing to acknowledge the part of her that felt relieved not to have to be here all alone. “You can go wait in your car till the guy gets here.” She climbed back into the driver’s seat of her car and wrapped her sweater around her.
“Are you flipping kidding me?” said Charlie.
“Are you flipping really using the word ‘flipping’?” Seriously, what a dork. For the life of her she couldn’t figure out what had possessed her to want to go to a prom with him anyway, platonically or not.
Wham! There they were between the posters again. Damn her mind. What the hell did it think it was doing? Although, maybe this was just hypothermia setting in.
“Come on. You’re freezing.” He held his hand out to her to help her out of the car. Because apparently it was 1940, in the movie and out. She slapped it away.
“You can wait in your car, Charlie Brown.”
“I will. And so should you. I have this crazy new invention called ‘heat’ in there.”
“I’ll be fine.” If she sat on her hands, surely that would stave off frostbite for an hour or two.
Charlie stood there staring at her. She stared forward, concentrated on the puffs of visible breath floating out in front of her, and willed him to go already. To her side, she heard the rustle of nylon against nylon.
Suddenly, an enormous ball of ski jacket was stuffed in front of her. He was giving her his coat.
She turned to protest, but Charlie was already on his way back to his car, hunched against the cold. His feet left silent prints in the wet, new snow as he walked. Ass.
She leaned forward and sank into the pillow of a jacket. Still warm. It also smelled like him. Why did she know what he smelled like? More importantly, why the hell did she like it?
A moment later, she was stalking after him.
“Hey, Chuck!” she yelled. He turned.
“I’m not taking your coat.” She had caught up to him, halfway to his car. She shoved the warm ball of fluff back at him.
“This is stupid, Ming. Come wait in my car. It’s seventeen degrees out here.”
She huffed. She didn’t need his sarcastic exaggerations right now. He nodded behind her. The digital display outside the Village Credit Union blinked. Seventeen degrees.
Well, whatever. The tow truck guy could be here in as soon as 55 minutes.
A gust swept through. Her face stung, but only a little because she could only half feel it.
“Fine. I will wait in your car.”
“Okay. Good. Let’s go.”
She girded herself for him to push the coat back on her, but he didn’t. Which was fine. It was his coat, after all. She willed herself not to shiver as she walked as fast as she could toward his car without, she hoped, looking like she was walking as fast as she could.
* * *
It only took a few minutes for Mrs. Brown’s car to warm up, but between the cold and the awkwardness, it seemed like much longer. Charlie had offered her a blanket from the backseat, which she had gratefully taken, even though she was pretty sure its usual purpose was to protect the upholstery from excess dog fur. And judging by what was clinging to the plaid fleece, it was certainly doing its job. But even as the air warmed up, Ming wasn’t quite ready to let the extra layer of insulation go.
“Music?” Charlie held up a few CDs. Barbara Streisand, Bette Midler. Barry Manilow. His mom certainly had her own taste.
“Oh my God, is the radio still broken?”
She hadn’t driven with Charlie a lot. They had been more school friends than anything else. But there had been a few rides here and there. Home after French Club. Out to a Saturday debate team practice when she hadn’t had another ride. His mom hadn’t bothered to fix the broken tuner because all she listened to was her music anyway. Charlie would bring his own discs when he took the car back then. She remembered being surprised to discover he liked Classic ’80s Alternative, too (for her, it was a Pretty in Pink thing).
Charlie shrugged. “The Neil Diamond kind of grows on you.”
“No thanks.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the hum of the engine, watching the flakes fall.
Ming’s stomach rumbled. Loudly.
She threw a hand over it.
“Sorry. I didn’t really eat.”
“Me neither,” he admitted. “I think I have a fruitcake in the back someone at the office gave my mom.”
“Jumper cables were nonessential, but fruitcake made the list?”
“It’s wedged under the spare. I think she may have been planning to ‘accidentally’ misplace it.” He grinned. “Technically, though, it is food. Do you want some?”
“Ugh.” She winced. “No. Just no. That’s something you don’t wish…”
“On your worst enemy?” He arched a brow. Great. Now they were quoting lines from the movie. Together. And yet…
She smiled in spite of herself. “Let’s not quarrel anymore.” Okay, enough of that. She dug in her bag. “Here, I think I have some—yes! Here we go.”
She pulled out several foil-covered coins and handed a couple to him.
“Hanukah gelt!”
“Chag Sameach!” She held her coin up in a toast.
They both smiled. And for a moment she felt almost comfortable. Weird.
As she was opening her second coin, Charlie cleared his throat.
“Ming, can I ask you something?”
“Can I stop you?” she asked. But she smiled.
“Why do you hate me?”
Oh, shit.
“I don’t hate you.”
“Oh, and I suppose you love me?” he quoted the movie again, this time
with a sly grin.
But she was no longer in the mood. “I don’t hate you.” She didn’t, too. Not really. Did she?
He turned squarely toward her in the suddenly much-more-cramped-feeling car. “Seriously. I mean, I’m guessing we’re not going to hang out in California, so this is the last time we’ll see each other until who knows when. Maybe ever.”
Ming felt a strange pang. Nostalgia, definitely. The town, the theater, present company, they were all just playing tricks on her. Well, she would just ignore it.
She looked out the window. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“So just tell me what happened. What changed? I know it’s not like we were ever really close or anything, but I thought we’d reached something resembling mutual respect there for a while. I mean, you were reasonably nice to me through most of high school. And I think I’ve been pretty, I don’t know, gentlemanly over the years, given our history—”
Gentlemanly? Gentlemanly?!
Because refusing to be seen with her outside of official school hours even for one night was gentlemanly. Leaving her on her own while he went to the dance with his guy friends (because apparently there was no problem with that) and then almost certainly spending the night laughing at her was gentlemanly. Because, what? Heaven forbid he have to look at her in a dress rather than a Statistics Club T-shirt and pretend it didn’t disgust him. Right, sure, that was gentlemanly.
“You know what?” she said, practically tripping over her own feet to get out. “Thanks, but no thanks. I think I’m going to wait in my car.”
* * *
She was halfway across the parking lot, wrestling to wrap the blanket around her so she stayed warm and also didn’t trip over it when she realized: she’d taken his blanket. Well, screw it. She’d have her mom drop it by his parents’ house after she flew home. Yeah, that would work.
She flung the long end of the thing over her shoulder and soldiered on. The wind had picked up, and the flakes had become smaller, which if she recalled correctly, meant it was getting colder. Was that right? It sure felt like it was getting co—
Suddenly, the world spun up on its end and Ming found herself colder, wetter, in pain, and horizontal. Goddamn black ice. Now she remembered why she had been happy to move away from New England.