He stared at her for a long second, as if trying to see what she meant. “Well, if that’s fat, it certainly landed in all the right places.”
She didn’t answer. He was just being kind. People like Mrs. Turpin had made it very clear that it wasn’t just the BMI chart. She’d heard it her entire life. Roxie “Cupcake” Hardy was shaped like a cupcake, even without the suit. “I have to stick to a strict diet and a daily run or who knows what will happen.”
“I didn’t know you’re a runner. I’ve never seen you out there.” He seemed surprised.
“I know I don’t look like a runner.” She brushed back her hair. “But I don’t hate it. Even if I didn’t have to, I would probably still run. I’m not built for it but I really love the time to think. Especially in the early morning when it’s quiet and nobody is out. Of course, now that I get up at four in the morning, I’ve been trying to find another time.”
“Exactly. The thinking time.” His eyes were bright. “It’s when I’ve gotten all my best ideas. But here, I haven’t found the right time. I’ve tried every hour between seven in the morning and ten at night. It’s always suffocatingly hot and people stare at me like I’m going to run off with their kids.” He leaned forward. “We should run together. I miss the company.”
She didn’t know what to say. There was no way she would be able to keep up. His stride was probably a good one and a half times her own, and he wasn’t carrying extra weight. She loved to run but it was far from glamorous. She sweated, huffed, and turned beat red. She had no desire to do that in front of Andy. None at all.
“As for the beignets, I’m not telling you what to do, but I think it’s a crime to live your life avoiding all the good food because some chart told you that you were fat.” He paused. “I have a bad feeling I’m going to say something really offensive, but I’m sure I already have, so maybe I’ll just keep going.”
“Oh, I’ve heard it all. Feel free.” She really didn’t want him to go on and wished that the movie would end so Mark to stop this train wreck of a conversation.
“I think you’re beautiful,” he said. “It’s just my opinion, of course, and it’s your body, but I think you’re perfect.”
That wasn’t what she was expecting and it took several seconds before his words reached her heart. Beautiful. Of course she wasn’t. She knew herself all too well. But hearing those words from Andy sowed a seed of doubt. She thought of those times when she’d been working on her translations for too many hours and stared at a word for so long that it didn’t make sense any more, and eventually didn’t even look like a word. Maybe she’d been doing that to her own body. Maybe she’d been inspecting it so closely for so long that she couldn’t see it clearly anymore.
What if all the suffering was for nothing and what she was trying to achieve would never appear? And with that question came the realization that a thousand breakfasts of egg whites wouldn’t make her tall and built like a runner. Her body would always be soft. Strong, but soft, like Mamere’s arms as she lifted the flour sacks. Like her mother had been before she’d gotten sick.
The truth was crushing, but simultaneously it seemed as if the world opened up around her. Everything she had denied herself was suddenly in reach. Literally.
She took a beignet from the bag and bit into it. Roxie had forgotten how wonderful it was to taste sugar on her tongue, instead of just the hint of it in the bakery air. She’d forgotten how the buttermilk gave the dough a tang, and how the crispy outside was the perfect match to the soft, fluffy inside that melted in her mouth.
“Good, isn’t it?” There was laughter in his voice.
She opened her eyes, a smile on her lips. She should be embarrassed to have lost herself so completely in the beignet but couldn’t manage it. She wanted to express her gratitude but there were no words. There was no way to really thank a person who gives you back a treasure you’d thrown away out of foolishness. “Yes, sir. Really good.”
He laughed. “I’ll never get used to that Southern tradition. Sir, Ma’am. You all are so polite.”
She held up a finger and spoke around the beignet in her mouth. “Y’all are so polite,” she corrected him. “Don’t worry. We’ll make a Southerner out of you yet.”
“If you do, I don’t think I’ll mind at all.” He was holding her gaze and there was something in his tone that made Roxie stop chewing. She stood there, beignet in one hand, powdered sugar on her lips, and wondered if Andy could possibly feel more than friendship for her. Maybe this kind, intelligent man returned just a tiny spark of the flame that Roxie carried for him.
“Andy?” Mark appeared in the doorway. “I’m tired.”
“Okay, buddy. We’ll get ready for bed.” He turned to Roxie. “Sorry for the―”
“Not at all.” She popped the last bite into her mouth. “It was so nice to meet you, Mark.”
He rubbed his eyes. “You come watch Free Willy with me tomorrow?”
“Soon. Maybe not tomorrow but soon.” Roxie wasn’t sure Mark understood but he smiled and went back to the living room.
“I’ll walk you out.” He led her toward the front door and instead of just showing her through, he followed her into the hallway.
“Thanks again for dinner,” she said. She wanted to say that although he thought the cupcake had changed his world, it was really Andy who had changed hers. She couldn’t possibly repay him for what he’d given her. “If there’s anything I can ever do for you…”
He squinted, considering. “Well, there is one thing.”
“Name it.”
He reached out for her hand and brought it up between them, holding her gaze. Roxie swallowed hard.
“What does this one mean?”
She could barely focus on the silver charm between his fingers. “The sun? It stands for ‘carpe diem’. The poet Horace said that first, you know, back in the eighth century, B. C.” She shrugged. “I know it’s really over used and people like to shout about it while refusing to seize the day at all. I know it because I’m that way myself. Sometimes I get tunnel vision and convince myself that life is all I can see of it and nothing more. That’s completely wrong. There’s more than we can see, so much more. In the original poem, carpe diem didn’t mean you should rush out and do crazy things that might have terrible consequences. It means that you need to have a little faith. Wherever we are and whatever we’re doing, we have a purpose. Even if we’re not completely thrilled with the hand we’re dealt, we’re still fulfilling that purpose and it’s one that nobody else can.” She paused to take a breath. “A little charm isn’t going to change everything about my life that I don’t like, but I try to look at it every day, I really do, and remember that there’s a greater plan than I can see.”
He was looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite understand and then he let go of the charm to take her face in his hands. Roxie finally grasped the romantic descriptions of a person helpless to resist. She couldn’t have moved if there was a raging flood and she was in imminent danger. Even if she’d had a very good reason to step away― and she didn’t― she wouldn’t have been able to convince her body to listen to her brain. Her heart had taken over and it was telling her that she wasn’t going anywhere, especially now that Andy’s hands were warm against her skin and his mouth was pressed against hers.
Roxie didn’t want to open her eyes. Time ceased to be. It was another ridiculous description from a bad romance novel but it was true. She had no idea if he’d been kissing her for one brief second or the space of several perfect spring days. Her hands were flat against his chest and she could feel his heart beat under her palm. She felt him move away, and even though she hoped he would come back, she realized the kiss was over and finally opened her eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. He looked as if he’d just dropped her favorite book in the mud. He took several steps back. “I didn’t mean― That wasn’t planned at all.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” Of course it hadn’t been
planned. People didn’t usually say, At ten past seven tonight, let’s kiss.
“Yes, actually, I do. You see, I can’t be with anybody right now.” His expression was pure anguish. “Or maybe ever.”
“Because of Mark?”
He blinked. “No, not because of Mark.”
Roxie felt her face go hot. That was twice now that she’d assumed Mark was the obstacle for everything good in his life. The whole situation seemed to compress into one painful ball of misunderstandings and regret. Like flipping a switch, she felt her heart disappear behind the shields she’d carried for most of her life. “I’m sorry. And listen, it’s nothing. Just a kiss. Let’s forget it and move on.”
She squeezed his arm in a comforting way, giving him her best impression of an understanding smile. “No big deal. Thanks again for dinner and let me know if you need any help.”
He started to speak but she turned back down the hallway toward her apartment. Head held high, she focused on putting one foot in front of the other until she reached her door. She imagined him still standing there, watching her fumble for the lock and valiantly struggled against looking back at him. The third attempt at getting her key in the lock failed and she felt tears burn at the corners of her eyes. She sucked in a breath and glanced back, readying herself to give a cheerful wave or a ‘this always happens’ shrug.
He was gone and his door was closed. The long hallway was empty and silent, except for the sound of her heart thudding in her ears.
Chapter Twelve
I grew up in a household where everybody lived at the top of his lungs. ―Frank Langella
Roxie shuffled along the sidewalk, trying to stay out of the way of the pedestrians. Getting back in the cupcake costume was rocking her world, and not in a good way. It was late afternoon on a Friday and she wanted to be anywhere in the world but there on the corner. She’d woken up that morning with a tickle in her throat and a slight head ache, which quickly progressed to a runny nose and itchy eyes. If there was anything worse than having a runny nose inside the cupcake suit, she didn’t want to experience it. For now, she’d rigged up a temporary solution. A pile of tissues were pinned a few inches from her face and she could use her self-wiping set up as needed. Unfortunately, it also obscured what was left of the peephole and she was now working almost completely by touch.
“Take a picture of me, Barb,” someone called out next to her and Roxie stopped moving to accommodate the voice. As far as she could tell, it was group of women and there was a lot of laughing and several rounds of pictures before she was released. “Thanks so much,” someone called and Roxie waved with both hands.
She went back to her slow gyrations and tried not to think about coughing. When she coughed, her nose ran. Mamere had tried to call Ricky Boudreaux to wear the cupcake suit but there hadn’t been any answer. Roxie suspected he knew exactly why his phone was ringing. It was Steel Magnolias weekend and there were groups of women everywhere. Last year had been the twenty-fifth anniversary of the movie releasing and there had been thousands of people celebrating the most famous film set in Natchitoches. Tonight they’d show the movie on a giant outdoor screen, and tomorrow would be a performance of the original play by Natchitoches Robert Harling. Alice had asked her to go along with a group of her friends but Roxie had managed to avoid giving a direct answer. She just couldn’t imagine trying to go out and have fun. Not with how things were with Andy.
“Oh, it’s the cupcake!”
Roxie paused for another round of pictures and then went back to waving. She was glad she didn’t have to smile for the camera.
It had been almost a week since Andy had invited Roxie to dinner and her heart was sore. There was no other way to describe it. It was like a pulled muscle that needed rest but that she had to use every day so it never quite healed. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t forget the warmth of his kiss or the way he smelled of beignets in that perfectly glorious moment. She pretended life was just as it was before, but everything since that moment was gray and cold. She could hardly drag herself out of bed in the morning. Even her daily run was like moving through molasses. To make it all worse, every night a hot meal was delivered to her door.
The first time she’d opened the door and seen Angela standing there with butter chicken and curried rice, she’d tried to refuse. She told Angela that she couldn’t possibly accept it, and the chef had told Roxie that she’d have to take it up with her boss. Giving a bright smile and a flick of her straight blonde hair, Angela turned on those long, lean legs and headed back to Andy’s apartment. Roxie would have hated Angela if she hadn’t been such a lovely person and cooked the best ethnic food she’d ever tasted. Roxie considered leaving Andy a note but knew it was the coward’s way out. Instead, she continued to accept the plates of falafel, curried lamb, couscous and whatever other deliciousness Angela had created that day.
Roxie leaned forward and pressed her nose against her tissues. She’d give it another ten minutes and then take a break. She leaned back a little to see through her pinhole of visibility and sucked in a sharp lungful of air.
Andy was heading her way, looking even more handsome than usual. He was going to talk to her. But not really to her, because she was the cupcake and he didn’t know that. He thought the cupcake was some kind of oracle and but Roxie knew she was simply a sweaty shmuck who wasn’t even getting paid to humiliate herself.
She turned and hurried in the opposite direction, away from the bakery.
“Hey, wait a moment, please,” Andy called out behind her.
Roxie walked faster, her breath coming in short gasps in the small space of the hood. She couldn’t see her feet and squinted at the peephole, trying to gauge where she was on the sidewalk. Reaching out, she grabbed the tissues with her teeth and tried to tear them from the spot. They came away, but not completely, so half the tissues still obstructed the hole. She spit them frantically into the bottom of the cupcake body, blowing pieces of tissue from her lips.
“Miss? Just a second,” Andy said. He sounded closer.
Mamere would wonder where she was going but she didn’t care. She had to get away. He was going to ask her if she knew Roxie, or maybe even ask her name, and then she’d have to wriggle out of the head. She was sweating, red-eyed, crazy-haired, and her nose was running. There was no way she was spilling her secret right then.
“I just wanted to ask you―”
He was right behind her and she half-turned, forgetting that she couldn’t see him anyway. Her next step was into empty air and then she tumbled down. She felt one of his hands grab her by the elbow but her speed and force of gravity won out. She went down hard, not on her hands but on her knees and her big, foam belly
Roxie tried to take breath but her lungs didn’t want to cooperate. Her knees burned and she thought of how these were the last pair of pink tights she had. She rolled to one side, hoping to reach a parking meter and somehow heave herself upright. She couldn’t get enough momentum and rolled back the other direction, a human weeble wobble.
“Are you okay?” His voice was calm, but in the way someone is calm when they’re trying to keep someone else from panicking. He put a gentle hand on her arm. “I’m going to roll you over on your back. Is that okay?”
She didn’t respond. He turned her over and she wondered how much grease there would be to scrub out of the suit. Mamere was always very careful to keep the suit clean. She would have to explain where she was going and why. Mamere would never understand. Roxie didn’t even understand and she was the one who’d been running blindly down the sidewalk.
“Your knees are bleeding. Did you turn your ankle?”
Tears escaped her eyes and streamed into her ears. She managed to hold up a hand and turn a thumb down.
“Can you stand?”
He wrapped his fingers around hers, gently pulling her upright. Her knees were starting to stiffen up and her back felt like she’d pulled a muscle. She couldn’t quite catch her breath but that might have been becau
se she was crying. She didn’t even bother to wipe her nose on what was left of the tissues.
“Can I help you back to the bakery?”
She turned and started walking, but he caught her arm. “Wrong way.”
Letting him turn her in the other direction, she carefully put one foot in front of the other. He hadn’t asked her where she was headed or why she’d been in such a hurry. His kindness made her cry harder.
“This is all my fault,” he said.
That wasn’t what she’d expected and Roxie almost stopped moving her aching body.
“I scared you the last time we talked. You probably think I’m some sort of stalker.” He sounded depressed. “I just wanted to say hello as I went to the bakery.”
She gave a little ‘no problem’ wave but she wasn’t sure if he saw it.
“I asked Roxie about you. She didn’t tell me your name. I should’ve taken the hint.” There was no accusation in his voice. It was as if he were talking to himself.
“I’m an unbelievable screw-up.” He sighed. “You don’t have to respond to that.”
She gave a thumbs up and he laughed. “Is that for the first or second part? No, I don’t want to know.”
The sidewalk narrowed and she knew the bakery was coming up on the left. Turning, she signaled that she would go through the parking lot to the back door.
He walked her toward the exit, his hand steady on her arm. As they reached the open door, she could smell hot grease and dark coffee. She’d stopped whimpering but tears were still running down her cheeks. She just wanted to get out of the suit, wipe her nose, clean up her knees, and go home. But Mamere still needed her.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
She hesitated. She was definitely not okay. She was very far from okay.
“I can help you inside―”
She shook her body and the pulled muscle in her back complained at the movement. Flashing a double thumbs up, she turned toward the door. Feeling her way along the wall, she reached the empty space and stepped inside. The heat of the kitchen hit like a fist.
Along the Cane River: Books 1-5 in the Inspirational Cane River Romance Series Page 91
