“I don’t want money from you, Paul. I just want you to be all right.”
“I’m not.”
“I know.”
But she doesn’t really know. What would she think if I told her the truth about myfriend? However brief it was, it will follow me forever, I’m sure. The hurt is hitting me full force now. The confusion. The feeling of not knowing what to do. He’s gone, just left, and said not a word. Would he really do such a thing to me? I thought…I really thought…
“Did you love somebody and they didn’t love you back?” The words tumble out of me like a pile of sticks.
Aunt Amy blinks in confusion. “What?”
“Is that why you’re alone?”
“I’m not alone, Paul, you’re here.”
“You know what I mean.”
A look comes across her face, flattening her mouth into almost a warning, but not quite. “It’s just how things are sometimes. Some people marry. Some people don’t.”
“But why not you?”
She stares at me.
“I’m right, aren’t I? You loved somebody, but he didn’t love you.”
She stares at me harder, a long studying look. “I think you should go up to bed,” she says gently. “It’s been a difficult day for you.”
I almost say to her that I’m already in a bed, dreaming this very moment, and when I wake it will all vanish like vapor, and won’t she feel silly telling me to get to sleep?
But I listen to her. I go up to bed.
And I take the broken plate, the casualty of unrequited love, with me.
In the morning, I decide to take a walk, and I end up walking the six blocks to Eckert’s.
It’s an intolerably hot day already with the aging summer heat, and I’m dying for a soda pop. I notice a sign out front that they’re hiring and to inquire within and that’s just what I do. I inquire to the stuffy square behind the cash register, gray hair coming out of his ears and glasses so thick they make his steel-colored eyes look tiny.
I don’t try too hard to sell myself. I tell him I’ve got no experience, but that I have nothing better to do with my summer. I’m free all day, every day. One corner of his mouth shifts thoughtfully. He points to the soda fountain and asks if I can start tomorrow. I feel a nervous flutter, the phantom of giggling girls ridiculing me, but I say I can. I promise him I’ll be in at 10 a.m. sharp.
I smile to myself as I leave with an ice-cold Coke and the humidity wraps around me like a blanket. The accomplished feeling follows me the rest of the way to Aunt Amy’s house, until I hear thevroom, vroomof an engine near me. I look up, my heart in my throat, and see a fella on a bike wearing a leather jacket stopped at a light. I come to a complete halt as he guns the engine at the green light and turns right.
I drop my Coke and sprint down the sidewalk.
My hair is plastered to my forehead and my pits are soaked by the time I get to the corner and turn to see the motorbike parking in front of a tobacco shop. The guy gets off and goes inside. I run like my life depends on it, my breath nearly splitting my lungs wide open, until I get to the shop. I fling open the door, the bell jingling frantically, and the fella and a man at the counter both turn to me.
The guy’s eyes are a hard brown. His nose too long and lips too thin.
I let out a whimper and they stare at me.
The guy ambles over, holding his paper sack of goods. I get out of his way.
“You okay, kiddo?”
His voice is deeper, rich and baritone. I nod as I watch him mount his bike. For one wild moment, I want to hop on and ride with him to anywhere. Tangle my arms around him, put my fingers into his pomaded hair, and just pretend and beg him to pretend with me.
He zips off down the road, leaving me in his dust.
Just a mess made and left for no one to clean up.
