“But it would have been nice.”
We find the men’s section and I put him to work, picking out what he’d usually wear. Then, when he hands me lots of baggy jeans and oversized T-shirts, I put them back.
“Let’s not do what you’ve always done that hasn’t worked,” I tell him. “Let’s do something different that might work.”
“But these make me feel comfortable,” he says as “Jessie’s Girl” blares out from the boom box.
“I know, Benjy, but… sometimes what makes us comfortable doesn’t show off our best features.”
“Me? Have features?” He steps back and runs his hands up and down himself, like he’s a salesman showing off a car. “Guess again.”
“We all have features, Benjy,” I tell him. “And one of them is confidence. You have none, so we need you to dress like you do.”
I ignore him and pick out some wheat cords, a rust colored T-shirt and a maroon button down sweater. “What?” is all he can say.
“Try them on,” I say, nodding toward a shower curtain that houses a closet size dressing room behind it. “Just… trust me.”
He huffs off, rustles around, bumping and flailing behind the shower curtain, grunting and, occasionally, cursing. Finally he emerges, red hair sticking up all over the place, brow covered in sweat, apples in his cheeks and sweater way too tight.
“Close,” I frown, handing him a rust colored jacket I found while he was changing. “Trade out the sweater with this.”
He admires the jacket, like maybe it might have potential, and hands me the sweater. “Burn that,” he huffs, slipping his arms into the jacket. Once it’s on and he’s tugged down the T-shirt underneath, I nod.
“That could work,” I tell him.
“Yeah?”
“Is it comfortable?”
He shakes his head. Emphatically. “I mean, does it feel comfortable, Benjy? Is it roomy enough, say, if you go dancing or something?”
“Dancing?” he chuckles, a pleasant snort that is infectious. “There will be no dancing. I’ll be lucky enough if Toby says ‘yes,’ let’s pace ourselves here.”
“Okay, well… is it comfortable enough to sit in a restaurant or café for a couple of hours while chatting Toby up?”
He shrugs. “That I could do.”
I nod. “Then let’s do it.”
He nods, too, and disappears back into the dressing room to change into his old baggy jeans and too-big T-shirt. On the way up to the register he sees a hat he likes, a rust and black plaid fedora, and snatches it on impulse.
“Benjy?”
He reaches for his wallet, chagrined. “I’ll pay for it,” he harrumphs.
I chuckle and wave him off. “I said it’s on me, it’s on me,” I explain, frowning at the fedora. “Just… you sure that’s the right hat for Valentine’s Day?”
He beams, nodding. “And St. Patrick’s Day and Easter and Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas…”
He’s still babbling as we reach the smug little cashier, all ripe and raw with a ring in her plump upper lip and raccoon shadow around her smoldering hazel eyes.
She kind of sees us coming and does an upper lip sneer and I hate her instantly and wonder how many girls do that to Benjy all day long and is Toby one of them?
She rings them up without an ounce of interaction with us and because I have nothing to lose I say, “Getting ready for Valentine’s Day?”
She makes an ugly little “pfft” sound and rolls her raccoon eyes. “Nope.”
Benjy is kind of blushing – and sweating – but I press. “Why not?”
“Twelve bucks,” she says, taking my cash before answering, “Because Valentine’s Day is for losers like you two.”
“Nice,” I grunt as she hands me the bag. “Your manager around?”
Suddenly Benjy isn’t the only one blushing. “She’s in the back,” she says, meekly, meeting my eyes so pitifully I’m suddenly sorry I flexed like that. “I mean… do I have to go get her?”
I deflate a little, shoulders sagging. “No,” I say before turning from the register, “but, you know, we’re not losers. We’re actually pretty nice guys…”
“Do you always talk to hot chicks like that?” Benjy asks a few stop signs later.
“Like what?”
“So… confidently?”
“Only when they’re bitchy like that,” I confess. “And not quite as smart, or as hot, or as cool, or as slick as they think they are.”
“But how did you know all that?” he asks, eyes wide like a pupil hungry for knowledge. “I mean, I could never have said all that.”
I shrug. “You get older,” I say, steering toward my favorite café for Benjy’s last lesson of the day. “You start to care less about what people think and more about how you’re treated. It’ll come to you in time.”
“I doubt it,” he says, slumping, and I can tell he really thinks it never will.
“Toby isn’t like that, is she?”
He turns out the window, looking at the souvenir stands and surf shops as we drive down Sunset Street, what passes for a main drag in Frostbite, Florida.
“Who would want to spend Valentine’s Day with someone like that?” he asks, by way of an answer.
“Good,” I say, finding a spot in front of the Books ‘N Beans Café. “Because I’m not going to go to all this trouble if you’re just going to ask out someone who’s not worthy of you.”
He turns, chuckling. “What makes you think I’m so worthy?” he asks.
“We’re all worthy, Benjy. Just remember that.”
“Yes Obi Wan,” he chuckles, getting out of the car.
It’s nearly evening now, but inside the Books ‘N Beans is aglow with strings of white lights in every corner, and the smell of fresh roast something is always in the air.
Marnie chirps from behind the counter, “Hey guys.”
“Hey Marnie,” I say, taking a seat at a small table for two by the window. “Two Sweetheart Specials, please.”
“Coming right up,” she says, lips full and frosty and creamy and sparkling, like her soft, green eyes and the heart-shaped barrettes wedged in her raven black hair.
“Is that your girlfriend?” Benjy whispers and I blush.
“I wish,” I huff, finger combing my hair like an eighth grader staring into his locker mirror. “But, no, we’re just… coffee pals, you know?” His crinkly face says he doesn’t. So I explain: “I stop in, say hello, she’s all sweet because she has to be, way out of my league but I can fantasize… that kind of thing.”
He chuckles. “I get it… so she’s your Toby?”
I chuckle, looking at him differently all of a sudden. “I guess so.”
He sits back, nodding, sly, watching Marnie as she moves behind the counter, body lean and snug against her red sweater. She drifts from behind the counter, green work apron hugging her body like a second skin, gingham skirt short and sweet.
“Thanks,” I say, nodding and trying not to stare.
“What are you two eligible bachelors up to tonight?” she chirps, grinning at Benjy and winking at me, like maybe she knows exactly what we’re up to.
“Todd here is helping me get ready for Valentine’s Day,” Benjy blurts.
Marnie pauses, a dish rag slung over her shoulder like a short order cook. “Oh yeah?”
“He just styled me up with a new outfit,” Benjy brags, and I swear… it’s more than the kid has said all day. Maybe I should be asking him for help! “Now he’s going to teach me the finer art of flirting.”
“I am?” I ask at the same time Marnie says, “He is?”
Benjy chuckles and leans closer to her, so that she has to bend down. “I hope so…”
She laughs and smacks him on the shoulder, so already the kid has gotten farther with the smoldering hot barista than I ever have. “Good luck with that,” she says, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “Todd’s one of the Books ‘N Bean’s better flirts.”
In stereo, Benjy says, “He is??
?? just as I blurt, “I am?”
She chuckles, sashaying away and leaving me speechless.
Benjy ignores her curvaceous behind and the way her skirt swishes just above the dimpled backs of her shiny knees and stares down at his mug of cocoa and heart shaped molasses cookie.
“So school me, Master Jedi,” he says, the cookie already half gone.
“She’s kidding,” I say. “I just… it’s not about flirting, anyway; it’s about listening.”
He nods, mouth full with the second half of his cookie. I’m watching my weight so I give him mine as well. While he eats, I ask, “How often do you and Toby talk?”
He practically coughs up a wad of molasses crumbs. “Uh… never.”
I nod; no judgment here. “Okay, so we’re starting from scratch. No worries.” I sip my cocoa, just to buy myself some time.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
“How… how were you going to ask her out?”
He shrugs, sweet tooth finally sated. “Well, I thought… we walk to the same bus stop after class every day. I thought… maybe that would be good.”
I nod. “So something casual?”
He nods. “I don’t feel very casual about it, but… sure.”
“The worst she can say is ‘no,’ Benjy.”
He nods, like she already has. “I know,” he mumbles. “But I really want a Valentine this year.”
“Why?”
“Cuz I deserve one,” he says, making me push the pause button on my cocoa mug, halfway to my mouth. “Cuz I’m a really nice guy, I think. And funny, too. And we like a lot of the same things, and would have a lot to talk about and I’m tired of being so lonely all the time.”
I smile, little chills running through my body. “You’re done,” I tell him. “Finish your cocoa and let’s go home.”
“What? I’m just getting started.”
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head and peeling off a twenty for the cocoa, cookies and a nice, fat tip for Marnie. “You’re done. Nothing else to see here.”
“How has this helped?” he asks, chugging his cocoa as if he might not have time to finish it.
“You already know what you have to say, Benjy,” I tell him. “What you just told me.”
“I can’t tell Toby all that,” he says, looking shocked at the very idea of doing so.
“Of course you can,” I tell him. “It’s the most convincing thing you’ve said all day.”
“Really?” he asks.
I nod emphatically. “This is the only truth I know, Benjy: people want to connect. You, me, Toby, Marnie, it doesn’t matter. You’re young so you think it’s all about looks. That’s why you were walking today. But it’s really about connecting with someone you click with. If Toby hears what you just had to say, and can ignore it… then maybe you’re not right for each other. And maybe that’s okay.”
I stand up. “It won’t feel okay,” he says, following me.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I say as we hover near the table, neither of us quite ready to leave. “If Toby says ‘no,’ I’ll meet you here tomorrow night and we’ll drown our sorrows in enough hot cocoa and heart shaped cookies to feel sick for the rest of February, deal?”
I extend a hand and he looks at it, blushing. “Deal,” he grumbles.
“That’s it?” Marnie says, coming out from behind the counter. “The flirting master already shared all his magic with you?”
Benjy smiles as I blush. “So he says,” he stage whispers, though they both know I can hear. “Personally, I think he’s leaving a little something out of the recipe.”
She chuckles and shoves him playfully as we approach the door. “Hurry back,” she says, looking at me. “I’d love to learn a few of those secrets myself.”
I sit in the car, sweating, until we’re almost home. “I’m not sure if I can trust your advice anymore,” he grumbles good-naturedly as we idle in his driveway.
“What?” I ask, distracted, heart still thumping behind my rib cage. “Why not?”
“Because you’re a mess,” he says. “Look at you.”
I chuckle, heart growing light. “Is this… is this how you feel when you see Toby?” I ask.
“Exactly like,” he snorts, getting out of the car.
I shake my head. “Then good luck.”
He shakes his, too, and I watch him disappear inside.
I drive the few doors down to my place, park, go inside and… nothing. I’m restless the rest of the night, go to sleep late, wake up early, and pace all day.
Okay, not all day. I work a little, futzing with the book cover design which is due the day after Valentine’s Day.
But I don’t get much done in between pacing. I take a jog, mid-afternoon, because I know that’s about the time Benjy will be asking Toby out and I’m extra double nervous.
For him, for me, for both of us.
I jog and jog, until I’m worn out and then I walk and walk, just to be extra tuckered. I shower and dress in something casual, but nice, just in case Benjy strolls into the Books ‘N Beans with a nubile young co-ed on his arm.
I can’t possibly wait until dark, so I drive to the café and park in back, figuring they’ll need the extra spaces along Sunset Street for the overflow holiday crowd.
Marnie is there, leaning against the counter, polishing pink plastic champagne glasses. She straightens up when she sees me, does her crooked little smile thing and pushes the rectangular glasses up her face.
“Well, well, well,” she chuckles, putting down a glass and smirking at me. “If it isn’t the Love Doctor, come to gloat.”
I blush and shuffle to the bar, sitting on a stool; a first. I usually sit at a table, even though I’m always alone. It just… it would feel like I’m stalking her if I always sat at the bar.
Wouldn’t it? God, Benjy’s right; I’m horrible at all this.
“Hardly,” I murmur, admiring the little Valentine’s Day special menu on the bar.
She looks over my shoulder to the door and asks, “Where’s your little buddy?”
I sigh and meet her eyes. They’re warm and soft and gentle, like always, but particularly so tonight. “He’s asking out his first ever Valentine tonight,” I say.
Her face lights up. “How romantic,” she oozes, voice bright and shiny. “So… what’s the plan?”
I shrug. “If he walks through that door, it means she didn’t go for it. If he doesn’t, well… it means they’re out on a date!”
“How exciting,” she says, sliding onto the closest barstool. Nervously, I look around the café at the leather seating area by the fake fire, where bookshelves feature local authors and black and white prints of long-dead authors cover the walls.
“I thought…” I mumble, turning back to her. “I thought this place would be a madhouse tonight.”
“On Valentine’s?” she scoffs. “Hardly. Everyone’s out getting all cozy with their dates at some fancy restaurant or the movie theater.”
“But later?” I suggest. “Surely after dinner and a movie, couples will want to slide in here for a little coffee and dessert?”
She snorts and shakes her head. “When’s the last time you had a Valentine?” she jokes. “Most folks want to get home and get busy after dinner… or so I hear.”
I nod, chagrined. “I guess… I guess it’s been awhile.”
She sighs. “Me too, Love Doctor. Me too…”
“Todd,” I finally get up the nerve to say. All this time, all these months I’ve been coming in here, and only now have I uttered my name for the very first time. “I’m Todd.”
She frowns. “I think I prefer ‘Love Doctor’.”
“Me too,” I chuckle. “Maybe then I could get a valentine after all.”
She winks and says, “You I’m not worried about. Now poor Benjy, that’s another story.”
“Isn’t he a sweet kid?” I ask, like a blushing parent.
“The sweetest,” she gushes. “How do you… are you
his uncle or something?”
“His neighbor,” I explain. “A few doors down. I… gosh, it feels like I’ve watched him grow up in the neighborhood, though, you know.”
“Really?” she asks a little skeptically. “You didn’t seem all that close yesterday.”
I shrug. “You’re kind of right. I mean, all these years, and yesterday was the first time we ever really talked. Let alone hung out.”
“Better late than never,” she says, getting off the stool. My heart stings to think of her leaving me, but she only settles behind the bar, whipping up hot cocoa for two.
I think that her comment could just as well describe us. She slides the cocoa across the bar, the mug on a saucer, a heart shaped cookie on the saucer next to it.
“Thanks,” I say, looking at the little heart she’s swirled into the froth on top of the cocoa. “Any big plans for the night?” I venture, because… if Benjy can do it, so can I.
She chuckles. “You’re looking at it.”
“Working all night?” I ask, with a frown in my voice.
Her eyes meet mine and stay there. “It’s not so bad… tonight.”
Something flickers inside and I smile. “How late are you staying open?” I ask, the cocoa, the frothy heart and the promise in Marnie’s eyes making me braver than usual.
“I was thinking of closing early,” she says, sitting back down and swiveling in her stool to face me. “But now, with you and Benjy and his mystery Valentine’s date, I’m not so sure.”
“That’s nice of you,” I say, without really thinking much of it. I take a sip and look up and she’s still looking at me curiously, as if waiting for an explanation. “To care about Benjy, I mean. I don’t think a ton of people do. I’ve never seen a father around and I don’t… I think his Mom’s pretty much always away on business. I hardly ever see her.”
“No friends?” she asks, concern in her voice. “No other little buddies to play video games with?
I sigh. “Not really,” I admit. “None that I’ve ever seen him hanging around with…”
My voice trails off and suddenly I notice the slightly jazzy soundtrack that always plays, just out of earshot, on the café’s sound system. Its suitably mournful saxophone solo makes me smile a little, if only ironically, even as she frowns.
“Now I really want to see that kid get his valentine,” she sighs, swirling back and forth in her seat.
I nod in agreement. “So what’s your—” I’m asking when the bell over the door rings and we both turn, gasping – literally gasping – when Benjy