Tara’s demeanor changed from friendly to hostile. “No,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “She hasn’t lived here for seven years.”
“Oh. Well, do you happen to know where she moved to?” I asked hopefully.
“Nope. Not a clue,” Tara replied, stepping back and folding her arms. “Are there any other girls you’d like to know about, or is that all? Because I’m kind of busy here.”
“Um, no. Sorry for bothering you.”
She rolled her eyes and slammed the door in my face. I exhaled. So far my search for Glory was a dead end. I hadn’t really expected her to be living at the same place, but I stillfelt a little deflated. Maybe it was because Tara had been so rude. I had determined that I would find Glory one way or another because I wanted some questions answered, and I knew I could probably find her on the internet, but while I was in Arizona I wanted to try one more place.
I got back into my rental car and looked up Monet Cafe. I drove away from Tempe and headed to downtown Phoenix, easily finding the cafe and a parking spot.
“Things are a lot different here than they are in New York,” I muttered to myself as I stepped out of the car and into the clear, warm air. It had been snowing when we left Manhattan a few days before.
I paused outside of the cafe, trying to calm my nerves.Why am I feeling so anxious?I thought. I figured it was highly unlikely that she was still working there, but still, there was a chance. I blew out a breath and pushed open the door. The first thing I saw was a large, colorful menu that featured smoothies and sandwiches named after famous artists. The place was almost empty, except for a couple of older women eating in the far corner. I glanced to my right and peered into an open room with a sign that read “Art Studio” hanging above it.
And that’s when I saw her. I froze. It was really her. She looked like that homecoming picture she had sent me years ago, the one I had spent hours and hours staring at, fantasizing about what it would be like if I ever actually met her. But now she looked older, more sure of herself, sexier. Her blonde, tightly curled hair fell past her shoulders and her large brown eyes looked mischievous and a little sad at the same time, just like I had always imagined they would. It was like I was meeting a celebrity, someone who I had admired from afar for so long.
She noticed me standing there and smiled, then took a few steps toward me, looking at me expectantly. The effect of it nearly overtook me. She was stunning.
“Glory,” I said breathlessly, trying not to sound like a giddy schoolgirl and failing spectacularly.
“Yes?” She replied evenly, raising an eyebrow.
I wondered why she wasn’t surprised that I knew her name, but then I glanced down and saw that she was wearing a name tag.Now she’s probably thinking that I’m staring at her breasts, I thought with growing panic, which were perfect, and that’s what I wanted to tell her all those years ago when she said they were too small, but I didn’t because she would have thought I was a creep, and I definitely wasn’t going to say it now, because that would absolutely make me a creep.Oh man, this is turning into a disaster.
“Glory,” I repeated, clearing my throat to keep my voice from cracking, “that’s a cool name.”
To my relief, she smiled and nodded.
“Thanks. I had a friend once who told me it reminded him of Battle Hymn of the Republic. Do you know that song?”
I let out a weird little laugh. She was talking about me. I couldn’t believe she remembered that little tidbit from one of my first letters.
“I do know that song,” I said. “It’s not my favorite piece of music, but it always manages to pump me up.”
She laughed and I felt victorious. With this confidence I was about to tell her who I was, but I hesitated. She would probably think I was a stalker. And I kind of was.
“So, how can I help you?”
“I, um...” I glanced around, trying to find some excuse for why I would be there, and I spied a large schedule of the art classes offered that week. “I’ve been wanting to learn howto draw comics,” I said quickly. “Someone suggested that I should come here.”
Glory smirked. “Well, it’s never too late to learn a new skill.”
I frowned. “Are you saying I’m old?”
Her smile deepened and her eyes twinkled, teasing me. “I’m saying that you might be the most mature student in the class, but you’re definitely welcome to come.”
I laughed. “I believe that. My seven-year-old nephew draws better than I do and he makes fun of me for it. I want to surprise him the next time I see him.”
She nodded. “Yeah, kids can be great motivators. Do you have any?”
“Kids? No, I don’t have kids. Or a wife. Or even a girlfriend,” I added, wondering if I was going too far.
“That’s good.”
Now it was my turn to smirk. “That’s good?”
Her eyes widened. “I mean, it’s just good that you don’t have any of those things, or people, or relationships, because if you did, you probably wouldn’t be here, alone, talking to me.” She cleared her throat and turned to the class schedule, clearly flustered. “Um, our Cartoons and Comics class is tomorrow afternoon and Saturday morning.”
