I waitwith bated breadth as we finish dinner. Since I don’t eat too many foods with dairy or gorge myself on gluten like other people, I brought him to a place that specializes in fair food, Bird & Daughter, all year long that happens to have a full gluten-free and dairy-free menu.
“You know, I thought gluten-free foods would taste like cardboard. But I liked it,” he says as he crumbles up his trash.
“Really?” I ask as we sit at a picnic-like table in what’s called the food arena. Several businesses occupy this not-for-profit space. So instead of one stuffy restaurant, we’re in a massive food court with an atrium-type ceiling. Pots with plants that thrive indoors are spread throughout the one-hundred-square-foot-space, and a few birds fly through, letting a small bit of the outside in here.
Brandon nods. “Yeah. If it was bad, I would’ve told you.”
I nibble on a salted sweet potato fry and look at him like he’s an alien. Apart from Hannah and those who work at the restaurant, where their honesty is refreshing—it’s not something I expected from Brandon. Maybe I expected him to placate me to get to know me better, but I don’t get that vibe from him.
“Do I have something on my face?” he asks and frantically wipes it off with a napkin.
“No,” I tell him with a sigh and push the rest of my fries toward him. “Your face is oddly perfect.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I watch him with a soft smile and take a sip of my dairy-free milkshake.
“Tell me what your day usually looks like when you’re not fantasizing about me.”
I guffaw and toss a crumbled-up napkin at him, but my cheeks spread with a smile, and it seems like that’s been Brandon’s number one goal.
“For your information, my days are packed. Depending on the day, I’ll have a virtual meeting with my therapist at around 7:30. Nothing says good morning quite like being skinned alive for your feelings. And then I’ll see if I have any assignments or tests I need to study for before editing a video of my playing piano.” I look at him to make sure I’m not boring him with my monotonous routine, but his reassuring smile encourages me to continue. “And if I’m on the schedule, which is five days out of the week, then I’m at the TapHouse.”
“Have you ever thought about having a piano night there?”
I shrug and shake my head. “I mean, the thought has crossed my mind. But I don't think any of the classical pieces I’m trained in fit that vibe.”
“And that’s where opening your own piano bar comes in?”
“I like that you remembered,” I mumble just loud enough for him to hear.
“When it comes to you, I remember everything.”
That feeling I get when I’m playing the piano, and I know the finale is coming up, so I get this excited energy to float through people–that’s how I feel around Brandon. Like every moment is a crescendo. Loud. Excitement. Joy. Love.
If I open my mind, I think I could love someone out loud.
If I open my heart, I think I could love him out loud.
11
BRANDON
I’m running my towel through my wet hair when my phone chimes. Looking at the clock on my nightstand, I see it’s earlier than usual for anyone to be awake. Let alone texting. Grabbing my phone, my eyebrows fly to my hairline.
Angie: I don’t know what to wear tomorrow.
Angie: I’ve never been golfing.
Her freak-out shouldn’t make me smile. But it does.
Me: How about you give me your sizes and I’ll surprise you with something.
I watch the text bubbles pop up over and over, until they stop altogether. Figuring I lost her, I wait a few more seconds before placing my phone back on the nightstand and getting ready for work.
Is it odd that I offered to buy her a golfing outfit? Maybe? This is where my lack of platonic female friendships putsme at a disadvantage. I think about reaching out to Emily for her input but talk myself out of it. When she wants to talk to us, she will. I don’t want to rush her healing process and I fear doing that will disrupt her path.
I’ve just finished buttoning up my shirt when my phone pings. Instead of rushing to see what she’s said, I take my time. Maybe I’m fearing for her cancellation, but deep down, I know she’s not the type to do that.
