walks in, looking adorably pitiful in his thrift shop getup.
“Benjy!” we both shout, before looking at each other – eyes wide with delight and surprise – and then back to him.
“What’s up?” I ask, rushing to him like an overprotective parent.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” he asks, glum but not angry.
“Here,” Marnie says, whipping up a fresh cup of cocoa with a stack of heart shaped cookies on the side. “Sugar, sugar and more sugar, that’s what you need.”
“Thanks,” he says, cheering up a bit as he sits on a stool at the service counter.
“So what happened?” I ask, pacing behind him so that he has to turn, cookie in hand, lips already covered in crumbs.
“So Toby said ‘no’ to tonight,” he explains, twirling around in his stool to grab his cocoa before swiveling back around to face me. “No ifs, ands or buts. Just… no.”
“Why?” I ask, as if I’m the one who’s been rejected.
“It was never gonna work anyway, Todd,” he says, putting his cocoa down. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I do,” I say. “You were thinking you deserve it, and you do. You just need to find someone who feels the same way.”
He chuckles, straightening his fedora, tugging on the lapels of his too big jacket. “You should write greeting cards or something,” he says. “But I appreciate everything you said, even if it was totally and absolutely wrong.”
“Not wrong,” I correct him. “Just wrong for Toby.”
He nods, and swivels back around to face Marnie. “So good looking,” he says in a grown-up voice. “How about you be my Valentine?”
She chuckles and pops him on the shoulder again. “If only I were ten years younger,” she sighs, wrapping him up in a short, sweet hug. “You’d be my first choice.”
He sighs. “Story of my life,” he grumbles, swiveling back to me and winking.
I look at him, frowning, then smile. “Can I say something?” I ask.
“No more words,” he grumbles, reaching for a cookie. “Tonight, we feast.”
“Okay, okay, but, before we feast… I just want to say… you were right about that fedora.”
“Really?” he asks, brightening and instinctively touching the brim of his plaid hat.
“Definitely,” I say, smushing it down on his ginger curls for emphasis.
He chuckles and turns back around, sipping his cocoa eagerly as Marnie watches him with sad, beautiful eyes.
The door opens, the bell rings and a tall black kid walks in wearing grey skinny jeans and a navy blazer and a gray flannel… fedora.
“Welcome to the Books ‘N Beans,” says Marnie cheerfully as I slump down into the stool next to Benjy. “How can I help you?”
The kid looks bashful, brown eyes darting around the empty café before settling on Marnie again. “I’m… I’m looking for a friend of mine. He said… he said he might be here if… if…”
His voice trails off and Benjy whirls around on his counter stool. “Toby?” he asks, sliding off the stool and approaching the new kid awkwardly. “But… but you totally blew me off at the bus stop today.”
Toby shrugs and says, softly. “I wasn’t expecting that, Benjy,” he says. “Not… I mean… not from you.”
Benjy is inches shorter – and wider – than Toby, but I can hear the same gentleness in their voices, see the same kindness in their eyes. “I’m sorry,” Benjy says. “I just… had to do it, you know?”
“No,” Toby says, reaching out toward him, then pulling back as if changing his mind about something. “I’m glad… I’m glad you did.”
“Really?” Benjy asks, as if someone’s just told him there really is a Santa Claus after all.
Toby just nods, and they drift closer to the cluster of battered leather chairs and coffee tables scattered in front of the crackling fake fireplace.
I slump down in a barstool, watching them. They inch closer to each other, huddling on seats pushed next to each other, oblivious of me, and Marnie and the roasted coffee scent and the softly playing smooth jazz overhead.
“My, my, my,” Marnie sighs and, when I turn to face her, she’s in the stool next to me. “Betcha didn’t see that one coming, did you Todd?”
“I did not,” I confess. “I did not, but… this whole time, he made it seem like Toby was a girl’s name.”
“Did he?” asks Marnie knowingly. “Or did you just assume it was, and he didn’t correct you?”
I think about it and… she’s right, of course.
“Either way,” I sigh, as Toby and Benjy settle into the deep, comfy leather wing chairs. “I’ve never been so happily surprised in all my life.”
“Really?” she asks and, without warning, leans in to kiss me, softly, warmly, sweetly, on my lips. “How about now?” she purrs when, seconds later, our lips gently drift apart.
“That was a happy surprise,” I gush, so eager to do it again that… I do. And she lets me!
We wise up and calm down and Marnie stands, sliding off the stool to swing behind the bar and fill two plastic glasses with non-alcoholic cranberry champagne. From a cooler behind the bar she slides out two slices of chocolate cake topped with crumbled conversation hearts, some of the chunks still big enough to read.
“I Do,” says a pink one.
“Luv U,” says another, this one a faded purple.
She puts it all on a tray and wriggles toward Benjy and Toby, calling out “Happy Valentine’s Day” as she approaches. They look up to face her, eyes as wide as their smiles, nodding appreciatively, reaching for the cups and plates so she doesn’t have to work so hard setting them down.
I turn, the moment too intimate, and stare out the windows that face Sunset Street as all of Frostbite celebrates Valentine’s Day. For so long I’ve been apart from it, hiding in my home office watching scary Valentine’s Day movies and content with the fact that plenty of folks did the same.
Who knew it would take a neighbor kid, his secret crush, a little white lie and a buxom barista to make me fall in love with Valentine’s Day all over again?
* * * * *
About the Author
Rusty Fischer is the author of A Town Called Snowflake and Greetings from Snowflake, both from Musa Publishing. Visit him at Rushing the Season, www.rushingtheseason.com, where you can read his FREE stories and collections, many about the fictional town of Snowflake, South Carolina.
Happy Holidays, whatever time of year it may be!!
Conversation Hearts: A Romantic Valentine’s Day Story Page 3
