It Was You

by Kim Hartfield

  “Whatever you say,” Wren said. “Here he comes!”

  She made a silent exit as Sam came toward me. I gave him a nervous smile, getting ready to say something about the song he’d recommended to me last night. Before I could speak, the door chimed once more and our first customer of the day walked in. Just my luck, the woman wanted a fancy steamed-milk latte that was going to take a minute to make. And another customer was already coming in behind her.

  The morning was so busy that I only got to talk to Sam as much as I normally did. We exchanged a few glances, and made the odd comment towards each other, but there was no time for an actual conversation.

  “All right, I’m going to take my break,” I said at eleven. “I’m going to listen to the rest of the album from that band you told me about, by the way. I downloaded the whole thing.”

  He dropped fruit into the blender to make a smoothie. “Band?”

  “You know – ”

  He pressed the blend button, and the sound drowned out what I’d been about to say.

  Shrugging, I headed into the back room and put my headphones on. The band, Luscious Karma, made an eclectic blend of folk music and indie pop. I’d been listening to the song he’d recommended on repeat all night, and if the rest of the album was like that, they’d soon become a new favorite.

  Out of habit, I checked my phone for new messages. It was silly, since the person I wanted to hear from was right out there – I’d been next to him all morning. But somehow, even though he was physically present, I felt like he wasn’t there at all.

  Oddly enough, I did have a new text from him. Morning! Did you listen to any more of Luscious Karma’s songs? He’d sent it half an hour ago.

  Frowning, I heaved myself onto my aching feet. There were no customers in line, for once, so I held up my phone. “When did you have time to text me this?”

  He blinked, then grinned. “I’m talented.”

  So he was being shy? “It’s cute that you want to text me while I’m right here, but… you know you could just talk to me in person, right?”

  “I know that.”

  “And to answer your question, I was listening to more of their songs during my break.” I still had a few minutes left, but I looped my apron back around my neck anyway. “I really like ‘Set A Fire.’”

  “Oh yeah, that one’s really good.” He scratched the back of his neck and rubbed a cloth over the counter, even though it already looked clean.

  I stepped closer, wanting to make the most of this moment before more customers came in. “What’s your favorite of their songs? Other than the one you sent me, of course.”

  “Um… I love them all. I couldn’t pick a favorite.”

  “But if you were to choose one?” I pressed.

  “I couldn’t.” He tossed the cloth to the side. “I’ve actually been listening to Raw Dog a lot lately.”

  “Raw Dog, the rapper who just got out of jail for assaulting his girlfriend?”

  He nodded brightly. “He was already good before he went to jail, and his new album is even better. The beats on the first single are dope!”

  Fucking meathead. He didn’t even care that Raw Dog had laid hands on a woman? I’d seen the pictures of her online, her face bruised and bloodied. No matter how good someone’s music was, I wouldn’t support them if they did things like that. I couldn’t, and I didn’t want to date someone who would, either.

  “I’m surprised,” I said, trying to hide my disgust. “I thought you were more into folk music, indie…”

  He blinked rapidly. “I like all kinds of music, actually.”

  A customer approached the counter, and I turned toward her. Sam took his apron off, mouthing something about taking his break. I wished we’d been able to talk a bit longer. The lunch rush would start soon, which meant we wouldn’t have another moment to ourselves for hours.

  Could it be that we vibed better over text than in person? My friends who had tried online dating had told me that some people had a different persona when they communicated through the written word. I wouldn’t have thought that could happen with Sam since we already knew each other, but it seemed like it had to be something like that.

  All of the playfulness we’d built up over the past few days was gone. He hadn’t referred once to our little jokes or hit me with any mild teasing. He was acting the exact same as he had before he’d ever texted me.

  Or… could it be me who was different over text? Had I felt more comfortable with him when I wasn’t looking at him face-to-face? Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t acted any friendlier than usual with him this morning. I’d been so nervous to see him, I’d probably come across a bit standoffish. I’d try to do better when we had another chance to talk.

  The fact that he liked Raw Dog was a turn-off, but not an immediate dealbreaker. Straight white men weren’t exactly known for being into social justice. Maybe he’d never thought about the implications of listening to an abuser’s music. It was worth having a conversation about it. I’d see if he was open to changing his views.

  The real test would be how he reacted when I told him I was bisexual. A lot of straight guys took it to mean I was some kind of kinky sex addict who would give him all the threesomes he wanted. I kind of expected Sam to be like that, which was probably why I was putting off telling him. I needed to bite the bullet and do it, and let his reaction tell me what to do next.

  I worked assiduously through the lunch rush, only speaking to Sam when it was necessary. Once things slowed down a little, I looked over at him again.

  “What are your plans for the rest of the week?” I asked. “I mean, other than work and watching creepy documentaries.”

  He frowned slightly. “Not too much, I guess. I’m scheduled every day until Friday.”

  “I feel you. I’m working every day through the weekend.” The other days were busier, so Wren or our other coworkers would be here. We wouldn’t be alone again until next Wednesday.

  “I’m going to watch the football game with some buddies tomorrow, and that’s about it, in terms of fun.”

  “Oh, yeah. The Broncos are playing the Cowboys, right?”

  His eyes lit up. “You know your stuff.” He hesitated. “I’d invite you, but it’s going to be a bunch of bros. I don’t know if it’d be fun for you.”

  “I definitely want our first date to be more romantic than that.”

  Now his whole face lit up. “I agree. Um… maybe we could go watch a game at Shady’s on Sunday night.”

  The local sports bar? That wasn’t too romantic, either. I’d thought he might want to go see an interesting movie, or even drive to Denver to see a show. We had so much more in common than sports.

  He must’ve seen the distaste on my face. “Or we could go to dinner.”

  “Great!”

  “Do you like burgers?”

  For a first date, not really… But if I said that, I’d sound too picky. I wanted to go out with this guy. Why would it matter where we ate? I forced myself to nod. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Cool.” He rearranged a stack of coffee cups. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Me, too.” Leaning on the counter, I watched him move. “You know, you’re really different over text than in person.”

  He froze. “Am I?”

  “Mm-hmm. Very different.”

  He gave me a weak smile. “Well, I hope you like me better in real life.”

  Five – Ella

  I lay on the couch, wrapped up in a heated blanket, the latest psychological thriller from my favorite author in my hands. People thought librarians sat around reading all day, which was the furthest thing from the truth. My work kept me occupied from nine to five. On top of that, I’d been calling different companies every day, looking for sponsors for the Pride festival. I only had time to relax with this book right now because Sam was doing my chores for the week.

  The plot was just beginning to get juicy. The narrator’s daughter had disappeared, and then he
r husband had vanished as well. I’d thought he was the bad guy, but now it was becoming clear that she was an unreliable narrator, and it seemed like maybe she’d kidnapped the daughter herself. I licked my finger and turned the page, silently thanking Sam for allowing me this free time.

  “Ella!”

  Speak of the devil. Sam had just stepped into the room, and he looked furious.

  I lowered the book by an inch and pushed up my glasses. “Just a second. I’m in the middle of the chapter.”

  “Put the book down,” he growled. “What exactly have you been saying to Judi?”

  Reluctantly, I set the book, open to the page I’d been reading, across my chest. “Nothing in particular,” I said. “Just chatting.”

  I’d actually forgotten Sam was going to see her in person today, and I’d texted her like usual. Sometimes when we texted, I forgot he had anything to do with her. Talking to her felt like talking to a friend, albeit one I hadn’t met.

  “You were supposed to get me a date!” he said, throwing up his hands. “Now she thinks I’m a whole different person. She thinks I’m into folk music, for heaven’s sake. And documentaries.”

  “Well…” I sat up slowly, pushing the blanket aside. “I thought you wanted her to like you.”

  “Yeah, to like me,” he said. “I thought you were going to pretend to be me. Like, a cooler, more suave version of me. You made me into you instead!”

  I bit my lip. I was starting to think I’d fucked up. “I was trying to bond over things we have in common.”

  “And now she thinks I have them in common with her!” He shook his head, pacing around the room. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t tell her she was talking to somebody else. I’m going to have to pretend I like folk music until the day I die. Folk music!”

  “You’re being dramatic. You’re not going to marry this girl.”

  “I could’ve!” he said. “I told you, I really like her. I thought this could be something serious, but it’s not going to be if you start off by lying to her about who I am.”

  “Hey, don’t blame me. You asked me to do this.”

  “I asked you to make me look good, not to make me into someone else entirely!”

  I rubbed my temples. “Okay, clearly we had a misunderstanding. We can fix this.”

  “Let me see the messages you sent her.”

  Nervously, I handed him his phone. He’d lent it to me for the duration of the Judi Project, and had installed texting apps on his tablet so he could keep in touch with his friends.

  He looked from the screen to me, and then back. His eyes bugged out more and more as he read through the conversation.

  “You’ve been texting her nonstop since I gave you her number!” he said, still scrolling up. “Oh my God, it doesn’t end.”

  “Is that so bad?” I asked in a small voice. “I thought I was bonding with her for you.”

  “More like for yourself,” he said. “I don’t even know anything about half the stuff you two talked about!”

  “You wanted me to make you sound smart.”

  “By throwing a big word in here and there!” he said. “Not by talking about the inevitable downfall of civilization! How am I supposed to talk about this on a date?”

  “That’s it!” I said. “I’ll ask her for a date. Then you can meet with her in person and just be yourself. You can win her over in your own way.”

  “She already agreed to a date,” he said unhappily. “I asked her in person.”

  “Then my work is done!” I said. “That’s what you wanted… isn’t it?”

  “No!” He waved the phone at me. “She’s expecting this person to show up, not me.” He sank into the armchair. “What am I going to do?”

  I didn’t know what to tell him.

  After a minute, Coco appeared in the doorway. “Sam, I’m hungry,” she said. “Are you making dinner?”

  “Yeah, I was about to get started.” He stood up, then paused. “You know what? I think it’s Ella’s turn to cook tonight.”

  I’d messed up my end of our deal. I couldn’t expect him to keep his anymore. “Right,” I said, regretfully setting my book on the coffee table. “I was about to get started.”

  *

  Sam and I stayed off the topic of Judi throughout dinner. Instead, we talked about Coco’s science fair project and the new car Mom was thinking of getting.

  The spaghetti I’d attempted to make was chewy and undercooked, and I knew from the way everyone kept reaching for water that I’d added too much salt. I wasn’t as good a cook as Mom or Sam, but tonight was bad even for me.

  Once we were finished eating, I cleared the table and washed the dishes. Sam hovered at the edge of the room as if waiting for Mom and Coco to leave.

  When they were gone, he came over to me. “I figured out the answer,” he said, his eyes bright, his voice nearly a whisper.

  “How you can win Judi over? Do tell.” I shut the tap off and turned toward him, crossing my arms.

  “You’re going to help me,” he said. “I’ll call you, and then I’ll put my phone in my lap. You’ll be able to hear our whole conversation, and you’ll text me what I should say.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “There’s no way this could go wrong.”

  “I know! It’s such a good plan.”

  “Sam, I was being sarcastic.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s a terrible plan! How would that even work without her noticing? And more importantly, how’s she going to fall for you yourself when you’d still be using my words?” I paused. “Are you even trying to get her to fall for her, or do you just want to get in her pants?”

  “It’s not about sex!” he said defensively. “I just need your help to get things started. Now that you messed up the texting, I have to pretend to be the person you made me sound like. Then I can be a little more myself on the second date, and a little more, until finally I’m just me.”

  “Why would she want to keep dating you at that point?” I asked. “Once she realizes you’re not the guy she fell for, won’t she break things off?”

  He looked worried for a second, then grinned. “Nah. By then, she’ll be stuck with me.”

  “This is a terrible plan,” I said again. “Why don’t you just tell her you were trying to impress her and you lied about being into some things you’re not actually into? Or, you know… be honest, and tell her you had your sister text her for a few days?”

  “Tell her I lied to her? That’s no way to start a relationship.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not going to do this, Sam. I’m not going to trick some poor girl into a relationship with you. If she doesn’t like you for you, you two aren’t meant to be.” I headed toward the door of the kitchen.

  Sam’s voice stopped me. “I’ll do your chores for another week.”

  I paused. “Two weeks total?”

  “Yeah. One night of helping me for one week of chores. It’ll be a win-win – for everyone.” He gestured at the stove. “All of us will benefit from not having to eat your cooking.”

  I scoffed. My cooking was fine – usually. But… “All of my other chores, too?”

  “Sure.”

  “Even if I don’t get you a second date?”

  “You better.” He glared at me. “But yeah. One week of chores, no matter what the night’s outcome is.”

  I thought longingly of the thriller I’d been reading. I could get through so many more books with another week of freedom from chores.

  Was it wrong? I’d be tricking this girl… but on the other hand, I didn’t even know her.

  “Fine, I’ll do it,” I muttered.

  What was the worst that could happen?

  Six – Judi

  The plan was to meet at Belly Burger tonight at six. I finished work at four and rushed home to get changed. I wanted to look nice for this date, even if I was back to being on the fence about Sam.

  Working with him on Thursday and Friday had felt like it did before I gave him my number. It didn’t feel
like our text conversations had brought us any closer. If anything, he’d seemed more distant. It was as if he was embarrassed about showing me his true self, and had decided to pull away again.

  He’d been texting me after work, but not like before. His responses were slower, and he was less enthusiastic. I almost wondered if he was losing interest in me. If he’d met somebody else he liked more.

  Flopping down onto my bed, I scrolled through our last few messages.

  Enjoying your weekend off? I’d texted. You’re so lucky you’re not at work right now. We’re slammed and it’s C-R-A-Z-Y!

  That’s a pretty long text for someone who’s slammed, he’d written back half an hour later. Seems like it must not be that busy if you’re still on your phone!

  I’d texted that on my break, so I hadn’t seen his message until later. Phew, I’d written then. Just got off. See you at 6?

  Right! Looking forward to it.

  It was a fine exchange, just… dull. If he hadn’t been so interesting before, I wouldn’t have minded. But a few days ago, he’d always responded near-instantly and our conversation topics had ranged from criminal psychology to space exploration and animal rights. He’d made my expectations go up, and now I wanted more than “fine” from him.

  But we’d get to that point again. I just needed to get him to share that side of himself with me. It was in there somewhere, or he wouldn’t have chatted with me like that. The only question was how to bring it out of him. If it was a matter of being comfortable with me, the only solution might be to give him time.

  I got up and peeked into my closet. I pulled out a couple of sweater-dresses and laid them across the bed. I wanted to look casual, yet cute and feminine.

  Much of my closet space was taken up by more boyish clothes. I tended to have a bit of a tomboy vibe, but I liked being able to femme it up when I felt like it as well. I’d often asked myself if I might be nonbinary or genderfluid – those identity questions had come up a lot during my major in gender studies. In the end, I’d decided I could be female and be a little boyish as well.