Eluding Fate

by Delilah Mohan

  I wasn’t looking at Mari to free me from the unrealistic expectations that were being held above me repeatedly, but her lack of interest in me did peak my curiosity. That need to satisfy this curiosity had me rearranging my morning routine so that I could catch a few minutes of her time and hopefully get her out of my system.

  I set my alarm for three thirty instead of my usual four hoping I could use the additional half hour and catch the girl at Jolts. I’d seen her in passing multiple times before, usually cowering down in a corner, pecking away at her keyboard as if her life depended on it. Who knew, maybe it did, but that wouldn’t stop me from insisting she stop what she was doing and give me a few minutes of her time. She owed me that much, right?

  The door chimed when I walked into Jolts, and she didn’t bother raising her head or show interest in her surroundings. Which was fine, it gave me time to order my drink, grab a couple extras to share, and check the Jot Wall for that piece of paper I knew would be there, the one written in that flowery feminine handwriting just for me.

  My eyes skimmed around the wall, searching for what I wanted before finding it with quick precision. Taking my paper from my pocket, I switched them out then held the crisp, white sheet in my hand, memorizing the words before folding the paper. A faint hint of flowers wafted from the paper, and I brought it up to my nose and inhaled. Bliss. Whoever this was, her words, her smell, this person was my little bit of sanctuary. The little bliss in my day.

  My name was called, and I put my sheet of paper in my pocket for later. I gathered the tray of cups and the two bakery bags off the counter and made my way over to Mari’s table. I sat down my bounty in whatever space she didn’t have occupied with her bags, books, and computer equipment. She stopped biting the pen she was nibbling on and gave me a solemn look over the top of her computer screen, her glasses slightly askew. It was cute if the librarian look was your thing; I personally liked blonde women though so I left my thoughts there.

  I gave her my best grin, letting her know that she wouldn’t intimidate me. I reached over and pulled one of the headphone buds out of her ear, “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a little of everything.” I started opening up bags, pulling out pastries.

  “I like privacy, that’s really what I like.” She tapped the bitten-up pen against the edge of her computer.

  “You owe me this,” I stated.

  “I don’t owe you anything,” she shot back instantly.

  I started rubbing my upper chest. “Ow. My clavicle. It hurts. It must have been cracked when some careless person plowed into me at the gym last night.” I took out my phone and pretended to dial. “Hello, Diane? I can’t work today, actually, this month. I’m injured. I know, I know, people are counting on me but…”

  She rolled her eyes and took the chocolate chunk muffin out of my hand. Ah, I’d found her poison. “Put your damn phone away and sit down. I hardly tapped you, and if anyone was injured, it was me and my nose.”

  “No one told you to run into me.”

  “No one told you to scorch me with coffee either, but I let that go, despite the fact you ruined my favorite shirt.”

  “You said you hated that shirt!”

  She shrugged her shoulders, “I lied. But regardless, I let the incident go.”

  I took a bite of banana bread, “If you are bringing it up now, it’s hardly being let go.” She rolled her eyes and took a piece of the muffin and nibbled. “Are you one of those girls that eat like a rabbit?”

  “No. it’s just…” Her nose scrunched up and it was adorable, partially because she didn’t know she was doing it. She wasn’t trying to act cute, or rope me in, if anything, she wanted to repel me, and I liked that about her.

  “Just what?” I prompted.

  “You’re watching me and it makes me uncomfortable,” she confessed.

  “Why? I’m just trying to have a conversation.” I took another bite of my banana bread and chased it down with coffee. “See, I’m eating too.” To push home my point, I reached across the table and broke off a piece of her muffin, shoving it in my mouth. Banana bread and a muffin; I was going to have to work extra hard at the gym tonight, probably the whole week, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was making her comfortable around me because I wanted to be comfortable around her.

  Her shoulders relaxed, and she took a small bite, still self-conscious, which I hated. I felt like every girl I was around only wanted to pick at unseasoned lettuce, detox pills, and other people’s opinions. Crowd pleasers. I didn’t want crowd pleasers, I wanted a real conversation, and I knew this girl would give that to me because last night she had no problem turning me away.

  She reached across me and took a coffee from the tray I brought over, read the label, and then took a sip. “So, Mr. Sully, what would you like to discuss?”

  “Please don’t Mr. Sully me. I’m not at work. I’m not at a public event. I’m at a coffee joint designed for hipsters and mom socials,” I responded.

  She took another sip of her coffee, giving it an approving look. “This is good. So, what would you like me to call you, then?”

  I reached over, taking her cup from her hand so that I could read the label, filing the information away for later, then handed it back to her. “Spencer.”

  “Okay, Spencer. How are you saving the world today?” she asked, a hint of sarcasm laced her voice.

  “Well, Mari, if you must know, we are doing a segment on raising money for third world orphanages as well as kicking off a shoe drive for Africa. “

  “I can’t tell if you’re serious or if that was sarcasm,” she told me.

  “Maybe a bit of both? That isn’t what’s going live today, but we do have a meeting about it later,” I confessed.

  “Do you think it’s productive?” She shut her laptop, giving me her full attention.

  “I don’t see how it’s not. Orphanages need funding and people need shoes, do they not?” I didn’t picture her to be heartless, but her reaction had raised my interest.

  “Well, yes that’s true, however, aren’t you damaging the economy more than if you supplied an actual means to provide for their loved ones?” she asked me and her brown eyes watched me, waiting for my answer.

  “I’m not sure I completely understand what you’re asking, Mari,” I admitted.

  She huffed out in exasperation, “Okay, say you live in a country where there are plenty of orphanages funded by richer countries, and you are just a poor, single mom who loves your kids but can’t afford them. So, you have to make one of the hardest decisions of your life; you drop them off at an orphanage. Not because they don’t have a loving parent, but because they did and that loving parent would rather give them up than let them starve. Wouldn’t it be more effective to put money into businesses that our single mom with kids could work at, earn money, and be able to provide for her children instead of surrendering them? So, you drop off shoes in Africa? That’s great and thoughtful, but, what about the local shoemaker there? He’s tied up everything he has to run his business and next thing you know, there’s a shoe delivery. No one buys from him any longer, he’s lost his revenue, and suddenly he is no longer able to support his own family. All I’m saying is the gesture is there, and it’s sweet, it truly is, but sometimes what helps some is damaging to others.”

  I thought on it a moment, watching her come alive with animation. I could do this again; sit here and drink coffee with this virtual stranger; I could definitely do this again. “You know what?” I scratched my chin thinking about it, “That’s some valid points that I might bring up today in the meeting. Thanks for that.”

  “Really?” she asked me as she reached for a big chunk of her muffin, shoveling it in her mouth as if she forgot her reservation from only moments before.

  “Really.” A smile lit up her face, and I didn’t have time to think much about it, to memorize it, to enjoy it to its fullest because my alarm beeped and my time was done. “Hey, it was nice chatting with you and sorry about
the coffee spill and the gym.” My eyes instantly wandered to her breast, and I fought not to outright leer at her cleavage.

  “You’re going already?” She sucked her lower lip into her mouth thoughtfully, waiting for an answer.

  “Work. Sorry. Hey, do you want these?” I held up the tray with the remainder of the coffee and the bag full of pastries.

  “I’ll stick to the muffin, thanks. Give them to soccer moms.”

  “Soccer moms?” I looked at my watch again, thankful I set it five minutes early so that I had enough time to part without seeming downright rude.

  “In about thirty seconds, a group of moms will come in from the yoga class from the YMCA. You know the type, right? Minivan driving, yoga doing, soccer moms.” I followed her gaze to the door, and right on cue, a group of moms toting rambunctious toddlers burst loudly through the door.

  “Well, look at that.” I stared in awe at her timing. “Hey, thanks again for this chat, you have a good day, okay?”

  She nodded her head, and I gave her a smile before grabbing the food and drinks and carrying it over to the gaggle of gossipy women. The moment I inserted myself into their conversation the women went silent, then giggled, then a level of flirty came out that I’m sure their husbands would not approve of, but in the end, they accepted my offerings with a renewed promise to watch me every morning.

  I gave one last glance toward Mari before leaving Jolts. Her head was down, studying some notes, her computer opened again, waiting for her. Her glasses sat slightly askew, something I noticed earlier but thought it rude to mention, and her deep auburn hair was in a bun, stray stands poking out every which way. She was different, and maybe in a different time her quirky differences would have repelled me, but today, in the now, every quirk only caused me to want a little more of her.

  I could be friends with this girl, I thought as I typed up my text message informing my intern of my impending arrival. In fact, I decided as I hit send, my mind was made up, and if there was one thing that always happened, it’s that I got what I wanted. And I wanted Mari as my friend, and whether she approved of this or not, it didn’t really matter because Mari Sinclair was officially part of my new altered schedule.

  Chapter Nine

  MARI

  “Vivian, you said?” He questioned, as he held out his hand. “My name is Ross.”

  Her petite hand came out and met Ross’ larger one, and he was infatuated. Completely, utterly, infatuated. She was familiar, like he had seen her before, maybe a thousand times in his dreams, but yet he couldn’t place the familiarity. A mystery, and as much as Ross loved mysteries the awareness that this woman had seen him before, in another time, another place, possibly at a low in his life, was unsettling.

  “Have we met?” he finally asked, “I feel like I’ve seen you before.”

  A smug smile tugged at her lips, “Only in passing.”

  The statement peaked his interest, and his eyebrows raised, “Oh, really? Where?”

  She worried her lip, looking like she was debating answering the question. Just as her mouth finally parted, a crash came from the shop a few feet away. Ross’ body turned, assessing the situation; checking to make sure no one was harmed. It was seconds, only seconds, but when he turned back toward Vivian, she was gone. Disappeared. Lost.

  I checked my watch, realizing it was already after ten and I had a few things to do today before I got lost in the world of writing. Hitting the save button, I then closed down my document and put my computer on sleep mode.

  I dressed in a pair of old jeans, a tank top, and my favorite cardigan, tossed on a pair of ballet flats, then left my apartment in search of my car. I tried not to use my car too much, reducing my environmental footprint, and the added savings on gas money was a plus. Not to mention that every place I usually went to was within walking distance. That fact was depressing and I avoided dwelling on my uneventful life that only existed within a three-mile radius.

  I needed a life.

  I needed friends.

  I needed to sign up for something that wasn’t yoga.

  I visited my parents once a month, which isn’t a lot, but too much if you asked me. Usually, after my visit, I spent the rest of the night eating ice cream and sulking about how alone I was in life. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t looking for anyone, and mostly I didn’t mind my loneliness, but there were a few occasions when I would like to pick up the phone and call someone just because I could. But I couldn’t because my contact list consisted of Raylee and every take-out delivery place within this zip code.

  The breaks on my barely used car squeaked as I pulled up to the sidewalk in front of the local flower shop. The little family-owned business was nestled between a bakery and a stationary store. Every time I stopped to get flowers, I had to remind myself that my thighs didn’t need any more croissants, and my collection of colored pens and pretty paper were already overflowing my desk drawers.

  A bell rang as I opened the door, the smell of roses instantly assaulting my senses. A petite blonde waddled out of the backroom, rubbing her stomach with her left hand. Although I had never formally met her, I visited regularly enough to know the shop's staff. “Has it been a month, already?” she asked me as she leaned her hip against the counter next to the cash register.

  “I could ask you the same thing. Are you getting close, yet?” I eyed her protruding belly, amazed at the difference a month could make.

  She huffed out a breath, “I wish. I still have a few more months, but this girl is taking over all my space. I swear sometimes I can hardly breathe.”

  I smiled at the dramatic way she rolled her eyes and blew a stray curl out of her face. “So, it’s a girl then? Have a named picked out already” I questioned, as I sorted through the display of white daisies, picking out a bunch that seemed fuller than the rest.

  “Blue? Green?” she asked, pointed to the butcher paper colors I usually picked.

  “Let’s do yellow this time.”

  She pulled out a sheet of yellow paper and laid it on the wooden work table that was set against the wall. “My father is pushing super hard on naming his first granddaughter Mercedes, but between you and I, that’s not happening. We decided to keep the name a secret for now, but… I think I can trust you not to tell, am I right?”

  Her azure eyes leveled on me, while she folded the yellow sheet around my bunch of flowers. “We decided on naming her Shelby Rose. Shelby still keeps with the car theme my dad loves so much, and Rose keeps with the flower theme, as well. It was Beck’s idea; he’s been breathing everything girly since we found out.”

  I mulled over the name before giving her my confirmation, “I like it. Tell the beau he did a good job.”

  She handed me the bouquet, I handed her some cash, and we said our goodbyes with the promise to see each other next month. I placed the daisies on the front passenger seat as I drove toward the cemetery. I knew the drive by heart; I could make the turns with my eyes closed and still end up at the giant iron gate that created an opening among the seven-foot-high stone barrier separating the dead from the living. But, just because I could make the drive effortlessly, didn’t mean the drive ever got easier.

  The visit was necessary to remind me the solidarity of family still existed, whether they were with you or not. It gave me the chance to speak without judgment, feel without ridicule, and exist among those who once loved me.

  I pulled my car through the iron gate and parked it along the pavement that bordered the grass. Getting out, I worked my way through the rows of headstones until I found the two I was looking for toward the back right corner. Kneeling down, I brushed dry leaves off the stones, then laid my flowers between them.

  “Hey, guys, nice to see you,” I told my parents, knowing I was talking to air, but the physical act of doing so gave me some relief. “It’s been a month since I came to talk to you both, and I’m sorry for that. I know we had weekly visits before you guys got sick. Coffee and cookies with you Mom, followed by your amazing
dinners, Dad. I wish things didn’t change and I still had someone around to talk to because sometimes it gets pretty lonely being me.”

  I took in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of dirt and decaying leaves. It had to be weird, finding the smells associated with death as comfort, but it was consoling, a reminder that I may be alone but not forever. The morbidity of my thoughts caused me to pause before shaking it off and continuing on updating my parents about my life.

  I told them about finishing my book and editing it. I explained the concept of the new story I was working on, the web series, as well as repeatedly stressing how nervous I was about my upcoming release day. We discussed yoga and Zumba, but oddly enough, I felt the need to tell them about my run-ins with Spencer Sully and how we had formed some sort of weird, incredibly awkward, not quite friendship over spilled coffee and free pastries.

  They obviously didn’t say anything, but it felt amazing to just talk and not have to listen to someone’s opinions and commentary in between subjects. Sometimes the mere act of getting out the worries was all that was needed to relieve the stress of it. By the time I was done getting out everything I hadn’t verbally said over the last month, the sun was high in the sky and the heat of the day had started to become borderline obnoxious.

  I said my goodbyes and promised them I would be back soon; fully knowing soon was another month away. As I made it to my car the sun had already shifted past the oak tree that was providing shade, casting my car directly into the sun’s path, causing the interior to feel like an oven. I tried to leave my house early to avoid the heat, but I had apparently spent more time than I thought talking to the engraved marble stones.