Page 12

Abby

Every day for the next few weeks, I see Ve. He accompanies me every morning on the way to school. In the beginning, it really pissed me off. I don’t like intrusive people. Add to that the fact that Vicks and Max, Ve’s friend, keep pestering me with questions about if I’d go out with the guy. Jesus, let him ask on his own! What? Doesn’t he have the balls? I’ve never been on a date. Or, maybe I did, but during primary school. Child’s play. Now it’s different. He’s older than me, and I wouldn’t like to be left alone with a guy I know next to nothing about. I could take Vicky with me. It’s a bit too awkward for my tastes. How do I hightail it? If I refuse, he won’t stop pestering me.

Each day I get more used to our morning walks. It’s nice talking to him. One time I even asked him to walk me home. He looked happy with my proposal.

I’m going to school, like always, thinking that it’s just the end of March, and you can already smell spring in the air. It’s still cold but getting warmer. I reach our crossing and I find myself looking around for him. I seem to be waiting for our meetings with growing enthusiasm every day. I’ve even started choosing outfits with greater care. There’s a pang of disappointment as soon as I realize he won’t be here today. I look around, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

The next day the situation repeats itself. I feel a growing unease. Maybe something happened to him? When another day comes and he’s not there, I’m sad. He must be ill. I give it some thought, but I’m fairly certain he’s not. He’s okay. He’s ghosting me. Only why would he do that? Am I not his type? Maybe I said or did something that scared him away. That’s it—what can someone like him see in someone like me? I saw how Elsa was looking at him, devouring him with her eyes. If he so much as nodded her way, she’d spread her legs for him. Who knows, maybe she already did. She’s tall, pretty, thin—maybe she’s more his type. Those nightmarish thoughts spin through my head. A quiet whisper is offering me contradicting conclusions. Maybe he can also feel this strong energy in the air whenever we’re together? Maybe it scares and puzzles him too? Then the reasonable part of me chimes in and chases away the whispers: It’s impossible. Men cannot feel things like that. He’s far from my image of the perfect guy, but if you think about it long enough, he’s got everything I need, and I find everything about him attractive. The worst thing is that whenever he appears nearby, my heart always skips a beat. That’s not good. I can’t control that. I have never felt something like that before. Those feelings are unwelcome and unexplored.

My hurt pride is getting the best of me. You can’t just ghost me like that! Me?! I know what I’ll do!

When I return from school, I meet Max. Now or never, I think.

“Max? Wait up, please.”

“Hey, Abby, what’s up?”

“Listen, does Ve still want to go out with me?”

“Uh, yeah. I think so.”

“Great. Tell him I’ll do it.”

“You’re serious?

“Yes. I’m free on Friday. Five thirty. He can pick me up. Will you tell him?”

Yes! I’ll go on a date with him. My parents are going away to Daisy Valley, so I’ll be left alone. Well, with Grandma, but that doesn’t count. I love my granny, she’s great. I know what to tell her. I’ll go out and be back before she can notice.

The next day at school, when my emotions calm down after an exam and my head is cool enough to think, I’m again assailed by startling thoughts. I’ve never been on a date. Not like this one. Not alone. I’m getting seriously nervous. My self-confidence has dispersed into nothing. I’m fucking stressed out! Suddenly, I come up with a genius idea. I’ll set up a tanning session for eight. That way I won’t have to sit around with him for too long.

It’s incredible that a million things can fly through your head in just a few seconds!

“It’s so exciting that you’re going out on a real date!” Nikki’s cry breaks me out of my train of thought.

“Calm down, girl.” I poke her in the arm, but she’s right about one thing: that weird new feeling of excitement has been with me since morning.

Stop it! It’s only a stupid date. And you’re about to dump him then and there, show him what he loses by keeping you in the dark. That’s what my subconscious says at that moment.

Quarter to five. I’m just about dressed, my lashes are done, hair too, stilettos on. I look okay. Not too provocative, not too modest.

The doorbell rings at five. I open the door and see him standing there, gaping at me, lost for words.

“You look stunning,” he manages after a while, offering me a single red rose. Oh, how nice. Completely unlike him.

“Thanks. You too.”

He’s wearing corduroy pants and a dark blue jacket. He lost his cap. His head is clean-shaven. It’s a turn-on, which surprises me. I always thought I liked boys with longer hair, which you can pull on, run your fingers through…

We walk hand in hand. I feel so small next to him. He’s tall, at least six feet. I’m five foot three. Maybe a bit more in these high heels. He smells of cologne. The scent is narcotic. I’m very susceptible to smells. Now I feel as if it has enveloped me, gently tugging at my senses.

“Where are we going?”

“That one spot. You’ll see.”

We take the bus, and I ask him directly why he wasn’t around. He says he had a rough week but doesn’t want to elaborate. He brushes me off, suggesting that I’m only asking because I missed him. I drop the subject. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of admitting he’s right. Not to myself and especially not to him. So, I leave him with a curt, “Maybe.”

We reach downtown, walk for a short while, and stop by Lost of Memories. The pub is atmospheric. I’ve never been here.

He asks if I’d like to eat something, but I’m not hungry.

“So, what will you drink?”

“How about you?”

“I’m having a beer.”

“I’ll have the same, only with syrup.”

I take the opportunity to watch him. His walk, his outfit, his mannerisms, gestures. He takes off the jacket. Underneath is a cherry polo, wrapped closely around a toned torso and biceps. Does he work out? My imagination is in full swing. I wonder how he looks without the shirt. Are you insane? Remember why you’re here! my head reminds me.

Ve is back at the table. He looks at me in silence, as if trying to read my thoughts. The waiter brings us our beers. I sip. It’s delicious. I’m not really into beer, but this one is great. Maybe because we’re on a date. We laugh, talk, and tell stories. I’m having a good time. He’s a great talker, and the conversation flows naturally—no awkward silences.

“What were you playing at, Ve?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, surprised.

“All the driving around and catcalling me, the knocking at my door and running away.”

“Oh, that. I had nothing to do with that.”

“But what was that?”

Ve keeps quiet for a few moments. He’s clearly thinking of something or coming up with a lie.

“Well?” I nudge him impatiently. He won’t get the time to spin some bullshit story.

“The truth is that I saw you once in church. I started asking around if someone knew you. That’s how the guys learned about you. Meanwhile, Phil developed a crush on Lizzy.”

“Interesting…” I mutter. So now I know for sure that our eyes have met. I remember that one time at church when I felt someone watching me. When I turned around I only saw those beautiful blue eyes, staring holes into me. I can recall how taken aback I was.

“What’s so interesting, Abby?”

“Interesting and childish. I’m happy you weren’t part of that.” Maybe he did speak the truth, but definitely not the whole truth. “Why wouldn’t you ask me out on yourself?”

“I wanted to, but if you need to know, I’m very shy. I didn’t think you’d say yes. I’m a realist and I knew what my chances were. And I didn’t ask anyone to do it for me. Just so we’re clear.”

“So your buddies helped you out?”

“I think so.”

I knew what my chances were . Did he actually think I was out of his league? I ponder that for a few moments, trying to understand why he’d think so. I was the one who thought that someone like him would probably never even look my way—that shy little girl next door. I’m not a star like Ivy.

He notices our glasses are empty.

“So, another beer?” he asks.

“No, that’s probably not the best idea. Unless you want to carry me home.” I chuckle. Another one is a bad idea. I can’t keep alcohol down. And with him, I’m even more defenseless. It’s as if he is intoxicating enough on his own.

“Oh, come on, don’t be silly. After two beers?” I’m not sure if he’s making fun of me or seriously can’t believe anyone could be such a lousy drinker.

“You’ll see,” I warn him.

“Also with syrup?”

“Yes, please.”

After a while, the bartender brings us another round. I don’t notice the two hours pass.

“Gosh, I booked a tanning session for eight. I completely forgot!”

“Then cancel it,” he snaps.

“I can’t; I’ve already paid.” I’m beginning to regret planning it like that. This date is better than I expected.

“Alright, finish your beer. I’ll go with you.”