“Well then, I’m not so sure this will be a long-lasting friendship. Most people consider my choices odd when it comes ice cream flavors.”
Her answer intrigued me, but when she opened her mouth again, I placed my finger against her lips. “Don’t tell me. I want it to be a surprise. Let’s enjoy these last moments of friendship while we have them.” If she picked something simple like… Chocolate I’d have to reconsider everything I knew about her.
When you had an ice cream shop that offered over fifty flavors, you have to live a little. Try the raspberry or Tutti Frutti.
We walked side by side, and it took everything in me not to reach over and hold her hand as we strolled along the sidewalk of Bayside Drive headed to the ice cream shop. Why did I want to touch her so much? Every time I glanced and saw her empty hand, I cursed Pierce for stealing her from me. But that wasn’t what happened, even if it felt like it whenever I was near her.
“Are you enjoying Pelican Bay?” I asked to take my mind off our current situation—the one where I wanted to lean over and whisper sweet nothings in Mari’s ear before placing a kiss against the corner of her lips as I would if she were mine.
She smiled, staring off into the ocean, completely unaware of the turmoil happening inside me. “Yeah, I miss America more than I realized.”
I’d spent years abroad but always found time to make it home. Mari had been in Central America for two years without a single return. I couldn’t place myself in her shoes or even consider what her first trip back to the states would be like after having so little.
“That’s why I love the boat. I can return whenever I need a Philly cheesesteak or ice cream in Pelican Bay.”
Mari laughed, but my statement wasn’t funny. It was true. I loved being able to sail the world and meet new people while experiencing different cultures. I wanted to reach out to them and help the growth in their own communities, but there was nothing like being able to come back to America and enjoy a warm bath or a washing machine that didn’t turn off half-way through the cycle because the town you were staying at lost power every afternoon at three.
So many people took the little things in America for granted. Only when you experienced true poverty can you truly appreciate having new shoes to walk across the sandy beach or access to the beach at all.
We made it to the ice cream shop quicker than I wanted, but at the same time I was grateful. Did I want this to be over fast or last as long as possible? My heart and brain were in disagreement. We stood in line behind an older couple, and when Mari reached the front, I quickly put my fingers in my ears so I didn’t hear her order and hummed loudly. She glanced back at me with an expression as if I was crazy.
“I don’t want to hear you order. It will ruin the surprise and I don’t want my choice influenced.”
The woman laughed, her red hair flying over her shoulder as she swooped off to the side to pick up her ice cream. I whispered my order across the window before paying for both of us.
“Okay, now can I tell you what I ordered?” she asked as I joined her at the pickup window.
“Shhhh, no. That takes away the excitement.”
Mari laughed, and the carefree sound gave me hope she’d lost some of the turmoil from her confrontation with Melissa.
The order window opened, the screen pulled to the side, and a bright yellow ice cream cone was handed out the window. I reached out going to grab it, but Mari beat me to it.
“Banana!” the server yelled, looking at Mari and me both.
She smiled and swiped the cone, taking a large bite off the top swirl.
“You ordered a banana ice cream? Out of the fifty flavors they offer?”
She shrugged. “I love banana.”
I was about to make a comment when the order window pushed open again and an identical yellow cone was held out into the open space. “Banana cone!”
Mari’s eyes widened when I stepped up to the counter and collected my matching flavored treat.
“Seriously? You didn’t hear what I ordered?” she asked.
I held up three fingers. “Scouts honor.”
Mari laughed, closing her eyes quickly and then opening them for another giant bite of ice cream as walked to the public beach where families gathered on the sand.
“Everyone always made fun of me because I don’t even like bananas, but I love the flavor.”
I gasped pretending to be offended. “How do you not like bananas?” They were a staple.
She shrugged, obviously immune to my shock. “I don’t know. They’re bland, but ice cream has that extra punch. I guess I like sugar on my fruit,” she said taking another bite.
Together we found a picnic table which skirted the edge of the parking lot and beach area and took seats on opposite sides as we ate our ice cream in respectable silence. Each of us stared out onto the water, watching the waves lap up against the beach and crest on the sand while young children ran back and forth.
