by Ava Danielle
“That was beautiful,” Rosa comes out of the kitchen as I stand by the patio door frozen in time staring at the rain pouring down outside.
“I don’t know what that was, Rosa. It’s as if someone out there invited me in not knowing who I am,” I don’t know any other way to explain it.
“Whatever it was, honey, it was beautiful,” I smile and agree with her.
Placing my violin back in the case, “how’s dad?” I help her clean the kitchen.
“He’s resting I think,” she’s wiping the counter as I put up the dishes she had pulled out of the dishwasher.
“I hope he feels better soon.”
“When are you going back to your apartment?” she worries about me.
“Probably this weekend, but that depends how dad feels, maybe he needs me.”
“Honey, knowing your father, he will probably go back to work next week. He’s not one to stop,” she has a valid point.
At the local shop late afternoon, I shop for some snacks for my father Rosa refuses to buy for him, “They are not good for his heart,” she always jokes, even before he had his heart attack. Clearly, straying away those snacks didn’t cause him any harm, I’m sure it was stressed. So, to linger his heart and make my father smile, I buy all those cookies and chips Rosa is absolutely against. Good thing she’s neither my mother nor his wife to stop us. My father’s heart is as good as the happiness makes him feel. I don’t worry too much.
I twist and turn the cart as I listen to the music from the speakers above understanding every lyric to sing along. I’m so zoned out, I don’t even here the thud from two shopping carts colliding, barely recognizing it as I feel the cart push into me. “I’m so sorry,” a voice says but I shrug it off with no care in the world, “It’s okay,” I say without even knowing if it was my fault or not.
“Hey, aren’t you my mother’s neighbor I helped the other day?” a recognizable voice says.
Twisting and turning my body into his direction, away from the cookies I couldn’t decide which to buy, I smile at him, “Oh hey, yeah. Thank you so much for helping me the other day. Those bags just suck, next time I’ll bring my own,” I laugh.
“Oh, like they’re forced to in California?” he snorts.
“Excuse me?” I’m beyond confused.
“Never mind. So, Melody, was it?” either he has good memory or, well, I don’t know.
“Yeah, umm, forgive me,” I can’t believe I actually did forget this name, then again, I’m really bad with names.
“Elliot, Elliot Harper,”
“Well, Elliot Harper, it was nice running into you again, I have to find a pack of cookies for my dad and can’t choose which,” I turn my head back to the oodles of choices of cookies.
When did we go from Chips Ahoy and Oreos to these many choices? And to top it off, each of those brands is filled with choices. Do I want double stuffed Oreos? Pop Rock Oreos? Mint? Regular? What’s with the many choices? When I was a kid I loved Chips Ahoy, the regular blue pack, but once they came out with the chewy, I was hooked. I admit, I’ve eaten an entire pack during one movie. You know how you sit there and eat one after the other sucked into the movie not realizing how many you’ve actually already eaten. Time just consumes you.
“Well, if I can make a recommendation, chewy Chips Ahoy are my favorite,” he smiles as he hands me the red packaging and places it into my hand, “but don’t go off what I say,” and starts to walk away.
“Elliot Harper, I think you’re my soul mate,” I kid.
“Could be,” turning around he gives me a small glimpse of a wink as he disappears from the isle.
Too bad I have no desire to meet any guy at the moment or I’d be smitten by him. I have this fantasy of a sweet, romantic, sexy guy to sweep me off my feet. A gentleman, who knows exactly how to treat a woman. Someone I can rely on day and night, someone that will be there for me for support, someone that understands my passion for music, someone that I can see myself with knowing damn well he’d never leave me. Someone like that however, doesn’t exist anymore. They’re few-a-dozen when they do and most of them are already taken. I’m too conservative for most men this generation. I’m not saying I’m expecting to be in the kitchen while he earns the money, but there are a few values from generations ago I still think should be implemented. Nothing wrong with caring for the man and in return he does the same.
“Twenty dollars,” the cashier asks as I’ve bought maybe a few packs too many cookies, but I really don’t care.
Grabbing my two little bags I head out of the store. In my thoughts I’m already home, but I regret not paying any attention to the road I was crossing. It was nearly too late.
If I hadn’t sworn off women and promised myself no more relationships after the last one with Samantha, I can’t help but think about Melody and how pretty she is. She’s really hard to read and maybe that’s why she won’t leave my mind. One minute she seems shy, the next she talks like we’ve known each other for years. She doesn’t feel, even after seeing her twice now, like a stranger. There’s something extremely worldly about her. And if not worldly, then something else.
I’m walking right behind her leaving the store. I keep my distance though, I don’t want her thinking I’m stalking her or even freak her out. If she happens to turn around, I’m already ready to pretend to look around and act like I had no idea it was she in front of me. Something like that. I’ll wing it. I wasn’t prepared for my plan to flunk, one minute I’m walking behind her, the next minute I’m pulling her away by the back of her shirt and pulling her towards me knocking us both over.
“What the fuck?” I hear her scream as she’s lying on top of me with her back facing me.
“Are you okay?” I’m seriously concerned.
“Fuck. Shit. Damn,” she tries to get up as a stranger pulls her up off me, “Thank you,” she situates herself, “Oh my god, Elliot, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I jump up pretending I’m in the best shape of my life, “I hope I didn’t hurt you too bad,” I stare at her from head to toe making sure she’s alright.
“I don’t know what happened,” she’s baffled.
“I almost got ran over by a car because you weren’t paying attention,” I’m blunt.
“You just saved my life,” she’s flabbergasted.
“And your cookies,” I hand her the bags I’ve gathered off the ground and saved them from being run over by cars.
“And my cookies. Well, my dad’s,” she smiles.
Together we walk to our cars in the parking lot, I’m not letting her out of my sight, not as distracted as she seems.
“This one’s mine,” she stops right behind a Buick.
“Nice ride,” I admire the car, a little big for one person to be driving a Buick Enclave, but as I watch her push buttons on her key and the car starts taking a mind of its own, I’m a little jealous.
“It’s my dad’s, I live in the city so I don’t have a car, but when I come to visit I usually have to take it for a ride because it’s so awesome,” she babbles as I stare while opening the trunk to my car, “This one’s yours?” she says stunned.
“Yeah, bought it last year.”
“Wanna trade?” she laughs, but she looks serious.
“You like it?” I raise my eyebrows at her.
“Love it,” she’s all giddy shutting the trunk never taking her eyes off my white Chrysler 200, which I’m not a car guy, well I am, but I’m not sorta deal, but it is a pretty fancy car I admit.
“Maybe I’ll take you for a ride one day,” I joke, but I don’t think I really am joking.
“May I’ll accept,” she smiles, “Thanks again for saving my life, but I have to get going now,” and with that, she’s behind the wheel and leaving the parking lot, leaving me behind.
“Maybe you should,” I whisper knowing damn well she can’t hear me.
I’m a girly girl. I love dressing up. My favorite season being fall, where I can wear long wool sweaters, mainl
y in beige, you know the one’s you wear to the mountains, and a black pair of leggings with my favorite brown boots. If I could wear that every day year-round, I totally would. But there’s also a not girly girl side to me. I love dirt bikes. Yep. Dirt bikes. Sometimes even four-wheelers, but dirt bikes just have more of an edge. And the best part of dad’s house, is the free land behind our house, in the woods, with a great path I’ve created over the years riding along. Not many know this about me, and when they first meet me, they never detect I have such a wild side. Could possibly be the reason I don’t have a man in my life. I’m not just the girly girl, I can hold my own with them out doing guy things. Not that I would ever volunteer to be with them 24/7 but if he ever did want to spend time with me besides a fancy dinner or a movie, I’m definitely down.
“Be careful,” dad stands on the edge of the deck watching me slide the helmet over my head, “Always dad,” I retort as I swing one of my legs across the seat and start the bike. Giving it the extra little rev to let him know I’m headed out into the woods.
Descending along my path, I fly over some rocks, tilt my body to the right, to the left, depending on the turn, and think about absolutely nothing as I soar with the wind through the woods and out into the green field. I’m focused. Determined. But totally taken back when a four-wheeler passes me by stopping me dead in my tracks. As I take another look, the man on the four-wheeler has also stopped and is looking back at me. We’re both facing each other, but unclear to make out a face with our helmets covering our face. Coincidently we’re removing our helmets curious about each other.
“You?” I laugh.
“You?” Elliot laughs and we’re both surprised by this unexpected run in.
I pull my dirt bike back inching closer to him, “You know this is my path, right?”
“What do you mean?” he’s confused.
“I’ve ridden my bike so much, it’s left tracks. You’re riding my tracks,” I look around.
“Honestly, I didn’t peg you for the dirt bike kind,” he smiles at me and for the first time, I’m looking at him in more ways than one. He’s sexy. His dark hair, the scruff on his face is very chiseled and attractive. However, he looks weather-beaten, it definitely shows he’s been outside for a while.
“Well, I’m not always what you think,” I joke around.
“You are definitely a woman with surprises, intriguing,” he looks as if he’s star struck.
“Don’t stare too long, you might fall in love with me,” I quirk.
I swing the helmet back over my head, start my bike, and continue my drive, leaving him behind. But not for long, I hear the sound not only of my dirt bike, but the four-wheeler following my every move. We’re enjoying the time together, but we’re not together. I’m not even sure what he’s doing besides following me.
An hour has gone by, and I still wasn’t able to shake him, he’s been keeping up with me at every speed. He actually captivates me. I hadn’t met anyone before that could hold his own with me. They’ve either tried to pass me. Or they couldn’t handle I was better than them. But Elliot has been cruising behind me never attempting to pass, but staying right with me.
Arriving in my backyard, I’m surprised he’s still with me, “You never passed,” I state the obvious.
“I enjoyed the view,” he teases.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m just kidding. It was actually fun watching you,” he helps me pull the gloves off my hands that seem to be stuck from sweat.
“Thanks,” I whisper taken back a little from our touch.
I feel like a schoolgirl. I’m not supposed to feel that way. But I do.
“Question,” he states pulling my helmet over my bike handle.
“Answer,” I remark.
“How would you like to join me for a drink around the fire for a little while,” he points in the direction where his fire pit appears to be.
“Sure,” I don’t even think twice, “I’ll have to put the bike up first and freshen up.”
“Sounds good, I give you fifteen minutes,” he smiles.
“Be there in ten,” I wink, turn around, and grab my bike heading towards the garage.
As soon as I walk inside of the house, I take a breath. Behind closed doors where I know he won’t see me smile, giggle, and dream.
“Honey?” Dad catches me and scares me so much I squeal.
“Daddy!” I scream.
“I’ve seen that look before,” he picks on me.
“Not now, I have to get changed,” I run up the wooden stairs to my old bedroom.
“For what?” I hear his screams from below.
“None of your business dad, by the way, the cookies are in the top cabinet behind the white plastic cups, you’re welcome,” I smile into the mirror as I debate which shirt and which pair of shorts to wear.
She’s gorgeous. I know I just left a relationship, well not intentionally, I’m still trying to get over Samantha, but when Melody walked over to the fire pit, and I know it’s just a friendly chat, I’m struck by her beauty. Not many can pull off black shorts as tight as hers with a white top, nearly where I can see through and a shimmer of a black bra shines through. The blue and striped blouse she has on over the bra, looks like something a girl would steal from the guys’ closet the morning after, cute nonetheless. But on top of all that sexiness, her long brown curly hair, that’s what does it for me. I can’t get over how one minute she’s rocking the girly look, then she’s muddy and so not lady like on a dirt bike, and then not but a few minutes later, she looks like a runway model. I know girls have tricks, but she has to have more than a few tricks under her belt.
“What are you drinking?” she struts towards me.
“A beer,” I find myself staring more and more at her.
“No shit, I can see that. Got one for me?” I’m surprised she would even consider drinking.
“Definitely,” I hand her a Corona with a lime attached.
“Wouldn’t be my first choice, but it’ll do.”
Together we sit drinking a beer watching the fire crackle and the darkness start to roll in. We’ve talked about our childhood, her losing her mother and never getting a chance to meet her, me not caring for my father, but worried my mother would never love again. Our parents are equally bruised. I hadn’t mentioned Samantha though, so to Melody I’m just as single as she is. Once we’ve tapped into the conversation of hobbies, she was overwhelmed knowing I play the Piano.
“So that was you,” her golden-brown eyes get super wide.
“What do you mean?”
“I play the violin,” she states so sure.
“That was you?” I’m just as shocked as she is.
“Elliot, that was so beautiful, it’s like our music found its own connection,” she starts to ramble and I notice when it comes to music, the two of us can’t keep up with raving about our passion.
After long hours into the night, daydreaming about our careers, discussing Julliard and my audition, we realize we should probably call it a night. We have so much more to talk about, so much more to explore together when it comes to music. I look forward to hear her play again as much as she’s looking forward to hearing me. We’re equally excited about the next day.
“I’ve enjoyed this, Elliot,” she smiles a bit stand offish.
“Come here,” I pull her into an embrace, “I’ve enjoyed it too, see you tomorrow?” I hug her tight not really sure if I want to let her go.
“Definitely. Have that piano cleaned for me, I’m coming over,” she looks up at me, her 5” fitting perfectly into my 5”8.
I debate on kissing her. I can envision it. But I don’t. Out of respect. We’ve only known each other, not even a weekend, so it wouldn’t be right. But deep down, I want to feel her lips against mine so badly. Her licking and biting them every few minutes, or even applying Chapstick, didn’t help my situation of desire for her.
Lying in my bed I stare at the ceiling above, remnants of my childhood still ap
pear through the cracks on the ceiling. The stickers I had placed to cover up some of the pin holes I have made to hang CDs. Did you ever do that? It was the hip thing to do. Hang CDs from the ceiling so when the light shined on it just right, it would give the room this disco like look. I was into that. But then when I wasn’t, I noticed all the holes, so I decided to cover them with stickers. Probably not my smartest thing since I got in major trouble for it. But they were music notes. The Eighth note and sixty-fourth note mainly, because they seem to be my two favorites to look at. And now I find myself staring at them wondering where I am in life.
I wanted him to kiss me. Why did I want him to kiss me? I barely know the guy. But the five hours we spent talking and getting to know one another, he’s turning out to be quite dreamy and charming. I don’t need a man to distract me, but he’s doing just that – distracting me. And the sad part is, it’s going to happen with him just like it did with the others, he will think I’m spending more time with the music and less time with him. Even though, deep down, with his music passion equaling mine, it might not be that way, and that’s the part that scares me. Maybe we are compatible? But just because I’m crushing on him dreaming of a future with him, doesn’t mean he feels the same. Otherwise, perhaps he would’ve kissed me.
Tossing and turning, I can’t stop thinking of Elliot. His brown eyes. His soft luxuriant blonde-brown hair. His sexy smile when he smirks one corner goes up more than the other. When he smiles big, it feels like it’s going to reach his ears at any minute. His shiny white teeth. The shimmer of his brown eyes. I’ve mentioned his brown eyes, right? He kind of reminds me of Jake in my Mother’s favorite movie. 16 Candles. Once I was old enough to find out what her favorite movie was, I couldn’t stop myself from watching it, to the point it turned into my favorite movie. Elliot is my Jake. I can imagine him leaning against his red Camaro, well in Elliot’s case, white Chrysler, smiling at me, falling for me as much as I’ve fallen for him. I mean, crushing on him.
