“The world needs more honesty. Maybe then everyone could stop hiding behind masks and just fucking live.”
He regarded me. Toothpick twirling, twirling, twirling. I felt that nervous energy thing itching at the back of my throat again.
“This might sound off the wall, but did you know that when a cat licks its wounds, it’s because there’s something in their saliva that helps the clotting process?” I asked, just to get his eyes off me and fill the air with something other than tension.
He chuckled, looking a bit confused. “Is this something your nona said?”
He was disarmingly observant.
My stomach tingled. He paid attention enough to already peg where I pulled from, which could only mean he truly listened when I spoke. That was a rarity in people nowadays.
Especially men.
“No. Not this one, but it will make sense once I explain where I’m going with this,” I said, smiling. I decided then I liked him. Maybe more than I should. He didn’t toss one-liners in hopes for a dance in between the sheets. He didn’t pretend to care while only thinking with his second head.
He was raw. Honest. Fresh.
“Okay… I’ll bite.” He shifted his stance, still twirling that toothpick between those perfectly pouted lips.
I focused my gaze on the tip of his nose. “Cat saliva also carries bacteria. Sometimes, a cat thinks a wound has healed over because the skin has clotted and scarred, not knowing what’s festering beneath the surface. But what was left unattended to will continue to grow underneath the freshly healed skin, until one day it pops back open, worse than it was before.”
“I think I know where you’re going with this,” he said. There was a twinkle in his eyes that wasn’t there before. A twinkle I’d put there. “You think I have deep-rooted wounds?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
I matched his gaze. “Speaking from experience, I don’t think… I know.”
A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. Even his smirk was perfect. I feared what I’d feel when he let out a full-blown smile.
“Maybe you’re right.” His tone shifted to a more serious side. “But don’t we all have something festering beneath the surface? We wouldn’t be human if we didn’t.”
There was a moment then. One where I knew the person I’d locked eyes with was someone who’d wreck me in all the best ways. It me hit me so hard it scared me. Made me break away from the intensity of his gaze.
A gust of wind kicked up around our feet, pushing a stray Styrofoam cup across the parking lot. It reminded me of time and how it pushed us forward against our will. How even though in the flesh we were strong, present, and whole, it didn’t matter when stacked against the unseen forces of time.
Even if we weren’t ready to face the future, it would come one way or another.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure of being compared to a cat and its saliva,” he said in passing thought, pulling the toothpick from his mouth.
“Bear,” I corrected, looking to my feet.
“Hmm?”
I lifted my gaze to his. “I’d say you’re more like a bear. But the way you treat your wounds is like a cat.”
He smiled then, and it stole my breath away. He didn’t just smile with his mouth. It was his entire face that lit up until his eyes shone like two bright stars. “Man, you remind me so much of someone I was once close to. Someone I—” His eyes flared, and my lungs stilled. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Who?” I asked, finding myself leaning closer, wanting to step through the crack in the door he left open.
But just as quickly as he had opened it, it was shut again.
“No one. Never mind.” He stood straight, watching as a car pulled into the parking lot and an old man stepped out. “I should get back to work.”
“Okay,” I found myself saying, trying to keep up with him.
He started heading to his car, but then stopped and turned. “It was nice… this.”
“It was,” I stated, letting him lead this time.
“Do you like coffee?”
I heard what he was really saying underneath that question.
My smile grew. “Yeah.”
“Well, I owe you one. If you stop by the diner, I make a killer concoction.”
“I’d like that,” I said, then he turned and got into his car.
Maybe a Monte Carlo wasn’t so bad after all.
I SPENT THE ENTIRE NIGHT playing back our conversation through my head, noting the little things about Hudson that set him apart from anyone I’d ever known. How could someone be so scared of communicating with another person, but then open up as if we had always known each other?
Because there was something more than chemistry brewing between us, I thought. I only ever went against my own principles when there was an attraction I couldn’t fight. It was a sign that there was something different there… something deeper, when I could spill everything to an almost stranger because it felt right.
I pulled out my phone, and searched for him on social media. I couldn’t help it. The stalker had awoken in me. There was a lot to be learned about someone by stalking them online. I knew, because I did it often. A way to fish out potential morons in the dating scene.
He had a Facebook page, but nothing else. I liked that. He was a private person. Real. Not trying to create a facade online for everyone to follow. I gave up social media a year ago as a New Year’s resolution, and haven’t done anything with it since.
I scrolled down his page, but didn’t have to go far. There was only one post. It was made seven years ago, in 2008.
I’ll be here, waiting.
That was all it said.
I wasn’t sure how many times I read, and then re-read those four mysterious words. Waiting for who? A lost love? Was that what I saw in his eyes? Was that why he was so hesitant around me? He didn’t have any friends to dig through. No about me or corny intro. Just a profile picture of what I could only assume was his house, which had that Old Florida southern flare I rarely saw around where I stayed. Most everything was gated communities with a limited amount of personality and space between each squared house.
I studied the profile. A two-story home with yellow siding and a green roof. Large knotty oak trees with swaying moss. Endless gardens and a sprawling green yard.
One thought popped into my head.
If I was stuck waiting somewhere for someone, I’d definitely want it to be there.
SEPTEMBER 14, 2015
SOME DAYS I WAS MODEST. Others, I’d stop in front of a mirror and smile.
Today was one of those days.
I waited an entire day before I went back to the diner. It was another rule of mine. Don’t seem too eager.
And I wasn’t… I definitely wasn’t.
I pulled into the parking lot of the diner. Sat there for a moment, trying to calm the rapid flurry of butterflies threatening to fly away with my stomach. I was really doing this. I was going to take him up on his offer. I was going to indulge in this weird thing happening between us.
My hand hesitated over the shifter. I could put my bus in reverse and leave. Move to another town, and he’d become one of those faces I could have known. I probably should have.
So why don’t you?
Pulling the visor down, I did a quick check of my face. I didn’t wear a lot of makeup. A little eyeliner. Some mascara. Usually Chapstick, but if I felt spunky, then I’d use a subtle pink gloss instead.
Today, my lips were liquid pink.
It was a Mary Poppins kind of morning. The sky rolling with clouds, a storm on the verge. I imagined her floating down, an umbrella in her hand, feet touching at the heels.
There was already a water set on the table when I walked in. Hudson was wiping one down and glanced up, a slow-burning smile tugging at his lips.
That’s why.
He’d better be careful with how many of those he gave out, because they were like receiving little gifts. The more he gave,
the more I wanted.
I pointed in question to the table with the water, and he nodded.
I didn’t pull out my laptop.
Hudson wandered over with a menu in his hand.
I dug inside my canvas tote, a smile brewing. “I have to tell you a secret.”
He sat across from me, setting the menu between us. “I’m all ears.”
I laid a baggie of Oreos on the table, a loyalist to the original kind. I didn’t touch that flavored shit. “I have a bad habit of enjoying dessert before my meals.”
His eyebrow dipped in question. “You do?”
I nodded fervently. “I figure if I’m always full from dinner, then I’ll never get to enjoy dessert, so why not eat it first to ensure I get the best part of the meal?”
He smirked. “So you’re one of those then?”
“It gets worse…”
His eyebrows lifted. “Oh?”
I pulled out the Oreos, sat them on top of the baggie, and then reached for a butter knife hiding within a rolled-up napkin. Hudson didn’t let out a peep as I proceeded to twist them open and pick at the cream, forming shapes. When I was done, I sat the knife down and smiled up at him.
“Is that the phases of the moon?” His head tilted, eyes grazing over my masterpiece.
“That’d be correct,” I said, beaming from ear to ear.
He chuckled. “So, not only do you eat dessert before your meal, but you also like to play with your food?”
“I like art in all its forms.”
“Is that why the inside of your bus was covered in drawings?”
“How did you…?”
My eyebrows dipped, and then it hit me. The day he pulled over to help me. He had the eyes of an eagle.
“My bus is as close to a home as I have. Especially since I’m always on the move. I spend so much time behind the camera, translating my outlook on life with images, that it sometimes feels refreshing to capture a memory differently. Use my hands in a different way.”
“Deep,” he said, hunger hidden beneath his words at. A desire brewing between us once again.
I picked up the full-moon Oreo, offering it to him. It was my favorite, laden with the most cream.
Disgust pinched at his lips.
I giggled. “You don’t like Oreos?”
He shook his head. “I’m not a big fan of chocolate.”
“Have you ever had one?”
He shook his head again.
I laughed, insisting by pushing the baggie closer to him. “Then you have to try it. Oreos are so much more than chocolate. They’re a religious experience. A nostalgic novelty at its finest.”
He scowled at the baggie. “Maybe… but I don’t like them.”
“How do you know you don’t like them if you’ve never tried them?”
He pondered that for a moment. “I could say the same to you.”
“How so?” I asked through a giggle, enjoying the light banter.
“How do you know you won’t like our fish if you haven’t given it a try?”
My mouth gaped. “How?” I couldn’t finish the question. I thought back to that first day in the diner when he was sitting by the window and Lucas read off their specialties. “You were listening in, weren’t you?”
He glanced around the room. “It’s a small diner.”
“Or maybe it’s because I interested you?” I posed.
The chemistry between us grew palpable. “Fine,” he said, meeting me head on. “I’ll try one if you try one of our fish dishes.”
My face screwed up.
He crossed his arms. “That’s my offer and I’m sticking to it.”
I chewed my lip, seeing in his gaze that he wasn’t going to waver. “Fine.” I stuck my hand out to shake. I never was one to back down from a challenge. Especially if I’d get my way out of it.
Once the deal was made, he was up and out of his seat, shouting to Martha to cook something I tried to block from my brain. The last time I had fish was when I was fifteen. After spending a night hugging the toilet, I vowed I’d never try it again.
Then again, what are vows for, but breaking?
When he sat back down, his smile was eating up his entire face. “You’re going to love this dish. It’s Martha’s best.”
My stomach sloshed a little.
We bantered back and forth for a while until Martha came out presenting a plate doused in a white cream sauce. “This is award winning,” she said, setting it down in front of me.
I kept my face even, though I was beginning to panic on the inside. I didn’t want to get sick again.
She turned to Hudson, making small talk for which I was grateful for as I slowly picked up my fork and knife.
Here goes nothing.
I cut off a small corner, and then plunged it into my mouth. No need to prolong the inevitable. I found my worry slowly dissipating within the glorious flavor of cream, garlic, and briny fish. It was remarkable. So much so I cut off another piece, then another and another until the plate was cleared and I was sitting back, thanking Martha for making it.
She left us, taking the plate with her as my gaze settled on Hudson.
“Now it’s your turn,” I said, pushing the baggie toward him.
He hesitantly picked up the full moon, inspecting it as if something would jump out at him.
Around him, I couldn’t stop giggling.
Pressing it to his lips, he nibbled a small bite, and then set it back down. I glanced at it. There was barely a crumb missing.
“Hudson!” I said, laughing so hard I snorted.
“What?” he said innocently.
“That doesn’t count! You have to actually take a bite.”
With a groan, he picked it back up, and then shoved the whole thing in his mouth. I waited for the light bulb to go off, but then his face morphed into disgust and he held a finger up, excusing himself.
He was drinking a glass of water when he returned.
“Nope. Don’t like it,” he said. “Sorry.”
I was still laughing. “You tried it. That’s all that matters.”
He studied me for a moment. I fiddled with the Oreos, trying to pick the best one.
“You know… there’s something about you. Something that scares the hell out of me.”
I raised my eyes to meet his. “What’s that?”
“You make me smile.”
My forehead wrinkled as my heart bloomed inside my chest. He was full of saying things I could have never predicted. He was an anomaly.
I shoved an Oreo into my mouth when Lucas came barreling up to the table. He looked like a spooked cat. “That batty old lady is coming in. Can you take her? I don’t think I can take another jab at my intelligence.”
“I’m coming,” Hudson said. Pushing up from the chair, he offered me a small smile. “Until tomorrow?”
I grinned. “Until tomorrow.
SEPTEMBER 27, 2015
THE TOWN I STAYED IN had the whimsical charm of another time when small towns were the norm, and everyone knew everyone. It was a jackpot of imagery to shoot. Tree-lined streets. Smiling faces parading down sidewalks, accompanied by friendly waves. Windowed shops filled with a store for every need. It was parks, heritage, and history highly regarded. I felt the edge of summer in my veins. The American flags whipping proudly in the wind. The way the oven-warm air would part every now and then for a welcoming fall-kissed breeze.
There was a vibe that never seemed to dull. A sort of toes-in-the-sand easiness that said life was only as complicated as people made it out to be.
I spent the past week recording more footage than I’d recorded in a long time. It was like this town had breathed life back into my brittle bones. Opened its arms to me, beckoning me forward.
I’d received a few more offers for work from all over the nation, but with the royalties coming in at a steady pace, I couldn’t bring myself to accept any of them. Not even the few that piqued my interest. I couldn’t explain why. It was a feeling I had
. This town still had more to offer me. I just needed more time to discover what that was.
“How long are you planning on staying?” my mom had asked the night before.
“Until it’s time for me to leave again,” I said.
Laying on my stomach on a soft pad of grass underneath a canopy of swaying branches, I was recording a straight shot of Main Street, going for a time lapse, when my phone buzzed in my back pocket. My heart did that weird flippy thing again when I realized it was from Hudson.
This is like the tenth time I’ve ran into you this week. I think it’s time we consider you as a local.
I grinned and turned, scanning for any sign of him. I’d seen him nearly every day. Lunches at the diner. Random trips to the beach where he taught me how to boogie board. Occasional run-ins at the local grocery store where he pointed out I had an unhealthy relationship with Oreos. Four packs were in my basket. I’d run out of my weekly supply.
He was becoming a routine. So much so I caught myself searching for him everywhere I went. I didn’t know what was happening between us, but I decided not to overanalyze it. Like every other man I found myself tangled up with, I’d do the same with Hudson… let life take the wheel. Maybe we’d just be friends. Maybe something more. I wasn’t going to force this one. There was something unique about him. Something different.
Where are you? I texted back.
A second later, an image came through of a fountain I immediately recognized from the park behind me. I picked up my camera, stuffing it into my bag before heading in that direction. He was waiting beside it, wearing khaki shorts and a plain white T-shirt.
He made simple look so damn good.
“You know the longer you stay, the harder it is to leave.” He was all grins and muscle, and it made my mouth water.
“Is that so?” I tried to push away the fluttering in my stomach. I had to find out what cologne he wore.
“It is.”
“Good thing I’m still two weeks shy of hitting that deadline,” I said as we sort of fell in step beside each other. “I’ll have to prepare the suitcases before my time is up.”