by Mimi Barbour
She tried to imagine the space reflecting a sophisticated, modern look—maybe chocolate browns mixed with turquoise for a little zing, or an all-white room with red splotches, like on the cover of the latest home decorating magazine. Since she could never make up her mind, the beige remained, right down to the colorless decorative vanilla candles.
All of a sudden, the aggravating alarm pealed and woke her from her doze. Instinctively she grabbed her chest to keep her heart from bursting out. Then she flipped to the side of the bed and grappled with the snooze button. “Blasted annoying thing.” Flopping back against the pillows, she reminisced over her crazy imagination.
She scoffed. “My own guardian angel! For heaven’s sake, what next.” Then her eye caught the torn-out page of her magazine—folded to highlight the words that had started everything. The paper lay on the pillow next to her, propped against the loveliest yellow rose she’d ever seen. The petals, translucent in the streams of sunlight from her uncovered window, urged her to touch, and when she did, she heard Celi’s husky voice reverberate in the empty room. “Yellow roses symbolize new beginnings, hope, friendship, and joy. Now—go get’em, girl.”
Her head fell forward into her hands. Everything from earlier came back to her. The discussion with Celi and her imaginings, even the decisions she’d grappled with. She re-thought her way through the maze again and tried to beat back her misgivings.
The snooze kicked off once more, and this time she slapped the alarm off. But the noise had reminded her that Tyler Jones, her best buddy—okay, her only buddy—expected lunch prepared for him today. She’d run out of gas yesterday, fourth time this month, and quesadillas were his payment for her bumming a ride to work.
Tyler. Another looming problem that needed to be solved. Annie knew her reliance on his good nature had to stop. Forcing situations for him to pay attention to her also had to stop. He had no interest in a girlfriend; he’d made that clear right from the beginning. Her tomboy ways and lack of feminine wiles were her major attraction for him, as he’d reiterated numerous times. They were buddies. That she was gaga over him didn’t matter. He didn’t want romance, not after the last vicious bitch had gotten through with him.
Still into daydreaming, Annie luxuriated in her warm bed and concentrated on Tyler. Aware of the silly lovelorn grin slathered over her face, she shrugged and accepted her addiction. He was the one true-blue person in her life, and she couldn’t stop fantasizing about him one day looking into her eyes and falling madly in love.
Over the months, his apartment downstairs had become her problem-solving depot. It beckoned her each time she had troubles. She spent a lot of time there. Tyler, with his straight-shooter answers and his no-nonsense approach to problems, cut through all life’s BS. He helped her focus on the positive with such insight as to make her assume the resulting clearness had been hers all along. Probably had something to do with the fact that, as one of the city’s best youth social workers, he counseled the mixed-up and downtrodden all day long and relished what he did.
Why she continued to dream of the unattainable, of him and her together, she’d never know. It wasn’t as if she could ever see herself being able to participate in any kind of a sexual relationship anyway. Not even with Tyler. That part of her remained shut off, closed down for repairs, ruined.
Tears gathered, but she refused to give in to them. She’d slept on damp pillows too many nights, and the futile exercise had accomplished nothing. Like Celi said, the time had come to move on, stifle the worrier and let the stronger side of her personality call the shots, make some changes—live.
The doorbell’s pealing interrupted Annie’s inner dialogue. The hands on the clock mocked her, proof she’d dawdled yet again. She scrambled from under the covers, retied the ribbon on her droopy, puppy-patterned pajama bottoms, and raced to the padlocked entry. Her hands tousled her hair to get rid of the bed-head look and scraped at her eyes before she reached for the knob. First, peeking through the peephole, her customary habit, she pulled the door open a fraction, stretching the chain.
“Ty, I’m really sorry. Could you give me another half an hour? I slept in.”
Chapter Two
“Hey, Smidge, you all right?” Tyler glanced at his watch.
“I’m good, honest. Just lazing. I’ll take a quick shower, tidy up, and be in the kitchen cooking in a couple of minutes.” She unlocked the chain. “Do you want to come in and wait?”
“No, I’ll wander down to the Phil’s, and get some fresh fruit for dessert. Do you need anything for the quesadillas?”
“I’m making them with chicken today, but if you want, you could pick up a few avocadoes and make guacamole. I love that stuff with quesadillas, and your recipe rocks.”
His eyes squinted as he searched her expression. “I’ll give you thirty minutes, and not a minute longer.” He winked, then turned away. Lately, every time he saw Annie his heart beat faster, felt fuller, swelled with eagerness. He stomped down hard on these reactions, wanting nothing to do with those kinds of feelings. The best thing about his Annie was her innocence. Respecting that kept his hands from wandering, and his mind off his burgeoning awareness. Their existing friendship worked fine for him, and he wanted to keep it that way.
Didn’t stop him from worrying about her, though. She’d been acting odd lately, and if anyone knew Annie, he did. He’d worked hard to calm her fears over men so they could hang out together. Ever since he’d moved into the same building and saw the petite tomboy, he’d gotten a kick out of her. He’d decided, with her, friendship would be a safe bet. Flirtation didn’t even fit into her vocabulary, never mind into her pattern of behavior. Perfect kind of a girl to be around. But getting her to trust him had been slow going. In fact, if he went any slower, the ground under his worn shoes would be such a deep hole he’d need a staircase to get out.
From the very beginning, she wouldn’t look him in the eye. Skittish and shy, she’d escape his every attempt to be friendly. Always polite-like, but definitive in her rejection, she’d use flimsy excuses to cut short any interactions he’d try to instigate. Her behavior had puzzled him at first, then angered him, finally piqued his interest.
He’d almost given up until, one day, she’d looked at him full-faced. That first gaze into the dazzling blue of her overlarge, wary eyes, fringed with the longest eyelashes he’d ever seen, made his heart skid to a stop, restart with a thud, and then kick into overdrive. From that moment on he’d wanted to know what had engraved those barely visible shadows onto her soul. Sensitive to emotions, part of his job, he’d catalogued an overload streaming from her. Most telling was her tendency to flinch when unexpectedly touched.
He’d spun the best line he could come up with, and it had worked. He remembered the wary look on her face when he’d confronted her in the plant-filled lobby of their apartment block. The rain had soaked her umbrella, and she’d shaken it so hard she’d flipped it inside out. Her chuckle made him smile. He’d expected anger and a swear word.
He waited until she’d gotten her gear in order, coughed to tip her off that someone else shared her space, and then stepped forward. “Annie, my favorite neighbor, I wonder if you have some spare time to help me with a problem. No strings!” His open palms waved in front of him and brought the smile back to her face.
She’d waved her hands back and answered, “Sure, no problem. What can I do for you?”
He smiled. She looked so cute with her shaggy hair dripping rain onto her lashes, and her nose red from the wind. “You know I work for Children’s Services here in the city and deal mostly with teen runaways?”
“I knew you worked with kids. I’ve seen them with you sometimes. They like you.”
“Yeah, well, I like them, too. Except I have a young girl who’s giving me a real hard time, and I need some advice. If you have a minute, maybe I could ask you some questions?”
“Isn’t there anyone in your office you could ask? I’m not really qualified in that area.”
“If you got a heart, you can help. Trust me, she doesn’t need more governmental blah-blah. She needs a normal female’s point of view.”
“Oh-oh, so there is a glitch.” Her joking turned him instantly mushy, and he’d cared about her ever since. In a platonic way, of course!
Pondering the secret of Annie Hynes had helped the journey to the store pass more quickly than usual. He hurried inside to be greeted by the aroma of freshly made cinnamon buns and various breads baked right there on the premises, a long-standing store custom that attracted many of the regulars from around the neighborhood.
He browsed, gathering strawberries, blueberries and lush green grapes, then searched out the avocadoes and a spice package he’d need to make the guacamole. The bearded baldie behind the counter beamed as Tyler approached the cash register.
“How’s it going, Ty?”
“Lookin good, Phil. How’re you?”
“Got some pretty spring flowers on sale, if you need to brighten up Annie’s day.”
“How do you figure I’ll be seeing her?”
“Come on, man. I can tell by the way you’re walking, kinda hoppy-like, and the goofy smile you’re wearing. Means it’s a sure bet.”
“I’ll take a bunch of yellow ones, smartass.”
Phil smirked. He knew Annie’s favorites. He pulled a golden bouquet, with a flashy bow, out of a vase hidden under the counter. “Figured you’d be in.”
***
She had thirty minutes. Annie shut the door without twisting the lock, and left the chain hanging. Locking it would only force Tyler to have to reach for the hidden key on top of the doorframe, so why bother.
The odor of stale popcorn captured her attention and had her quickly racing around to tidy up the mess of scattered kernels, candy bar wrappers, and the empty ice cream carton from her gorging of the night before. This evening ritual of serial binging had to stop. She sprayed freshener and opened the windows. And, just to be certain the room smelt better, she madly waved a towel around at the same time as she hitched up her pajama bottoms.
As soon as she entered the bedroom, the rose drew her as if its beauty held a special power. An antique crystal vase she’d bought from an old Chinese lady in a flea market seemed perfect to accommodate the precious bloom. Then she carried it from room to room as she got ready.
First, she went to her closet and grabbed a baggy pair of sweatpants and the overlarge top that matched. An audible moan, sounding vexed, made her stop to reconsider the items in her hand. With a shake of her head, she threw them back into the closet, grumbled, and then switched to her least baggy, cleanest jeans and a soft turquoise t-shirt. Tyler’s present for her last birthday. A surprising chorus of hallelujahs pealed for a few minutes in the background and made her laugh. A guardian angel with a sense of humor—how lucky could a girl get?
At that precise moment, a strong sense of purpose entered her and the words “I’m going to transform my life” followed. From this moment on, she thought, I’m going to do everything I ever dreamed I could, and the hell with being scared. If I screw up, it’ll be just too damn bad, but at least I’ll have tried. Another chorus of hallelujahs followed and crescendoed with bells ringing.
In the shower, water poured over her head, into her eyes, and washed away any particles of residual resistance. A weight dissipated inside, leaving her incredibly light and happy, not an emotion she was used to but one she never wanted to lose.
Dressing in her usual lackadaisical style couldn’t be tolerated any longer. She tucked in the turquoise top and added a silver belt, then stood back and surveyed the outcome. A cute pair of sandals she’d bought in a weak moment when her inner vamp had been particularly strong added to her new look. Then she searched for the can of mousse tucked in the back of her cupboard and worked miracles with strands of feathered curls. A miraculous hairdressing talent she’d discovered recently—like this very moment. “Thank you, Celi!”
When Tyler arrived, he found her frying chicken in her efficient red, black, and chrome kitchen area. His left arm clutched a paper bag full of fruit. His right arm embraced a bouquet of fresh golden blooms interspersed here and there with white daisies; their yellow centers a perfect match to the large chrysanthemums. Tears, lurking after her recent emotional conflict, threatened to gush at the evidence of his affection.
“For me, Ty?’ She reached up to stroke his cheek, a most unusual display of affection. “You’re a doll! Thank you.” Out of the corner of her eye, she noted his puzzlement.
“You’re welcome, shortstop.”
Thick, perfectly formed brows, the exact color of his ash-brown hair, rose slowly as he zeroed in on her flirty behavior. With a stunned expression, he backed away. An ordinary smile began to form, but as usual, one side rose higher in his unique grin. He combed both hands through his waves and pushed them away from his face, a maneuver he tried often, only to have the silken strands reposition themselves. Then he linked his fingers behind his neck and stretched his long, lean form.
She couldn’t help but survey the package. He was certainly worthy of her making the effort. Being a fitness freak paid off in spades, for his body looked firm and—and incredibly healthy. On the streets, women’s heads whipped around to check out the eye-candy as he passed. It used to upset her, but once she realized he never paid any attention, it gave her a bizarre kind of a kick.
A faint echo of the halleluiah chorus sounded again, but only she heard it and had to bite her lip to stop the giggle. “He’s sure pretty, ain’t he?” She sent the thought winging through cyber space and felt Celi’s agreement shoot straight through her.
Taking a deep breath, she squashed disrupting nerves homesteading in her stomach, and switched her attention to arranging her second gift of the day. She set the new bouquet on the table next to her special rose to brighten the beige placemats and napkins.
Tyler stepped further into the kitchen area, picked up the wooden spoon, and worked to keep the sizzling food from burning.
“Smells great in here. I’m starving.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me? Eating’s your favorite pastime.”
“Is not. Hey! You saying I’m fat?” He patted the area under discussion.
Her eyes followed his hand, and she gulped. “I’m sure no one else has noticed.”
“Why, you cheeky brat.” He started towards her, hands in the choke position.
Squealing, she backed away. “Kidding. I’m kidding. Sheesh! Some people can’t take a joke.”
“Don’t you know a man’s abs are sacrosanct? Women should never tease about them. We’re talking major physiological trauma here.” He winked and turned back to the spitting meat in the frying pan.
Labor progressed in the small space as they both relaxed into their normal routines. She turned to chop peppers and grate cheese, while he sautéed the mushrooms. They were comfortable in their togetherness. Eventually, settled at the high-topped bar table, they enjoyed their food, sipped on wine, and, all the time, she chattered inanely about zilch.
At the beginning of their relationship, shyness had kept her from voicing her opinions. He’d frequently had to quiz her, dragging out opinions that she normally kept locked inside. One day he’d even commented on her intelligence. What was it he said? Right. Something along the lines of how relieved he was to discover multiple layers of a keen and knowledgeable intellect.
She’d checked his expression to see if he teased, but was gratified by his sincere expression.
So nowadays she chitchatted happily, questioned him about his teenage clients, and gave him feminine feedback on the inner workings of the young female psyche. Lack of that knowledge hindered him something awful. His job as a counselor to both genders left him grappling for the answers Annie provided so easily.
During a lull in the conversation, he started to rise. “Want me to put on some music?” He preferred country, she—the blues. He moved toward the tall black wall-unit housing her electronics.
“No.
Let me.” She sauntered past him to her Ipod docking station and pulled out something new she’d been coerced to buy because of the unusual beat. A CD featuring hip-hop, not her normal style at all.
Tyler’s head tipped to the side, tracking the new tune. His mouth pursed for a second, another of his endearing habits, and then returned to its previous cocky smile. The movement drew her eyes to his scrumptious full lips while tingling sensations snapped everywhere inside her body, like hot corn kernels popping.
“I’ve never heard that CD before. It’s rather a new sound for you, isn’t it?” Tyler broke into her reverie.
“Uh-huh. I like it, don’t you? It’s called ‘Rolling in the Deep’ by Adele.” She did a little quick step, swinging her hips in a sexy swaying motion. His mouth gaped, and he blinked double-time.
She closed in.
He backed up.
“I guess. I didn’t know you could dance. In fact you told me you couldn’t. Okay, I get it. Who are you? And what have you done with my pal Annie?” It was a corny old line, but one that made her laugh.
When he smiled back in his distinctive way, another tide of flutters began in her chest and made breathing all but impossible. Her breathy giggle, totally unlike her, had his eyes narrowing. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
She inhaled and slowly released the air. When her pink lips formed a kissing kind of contortion, she watched his gaze zero in on her mouth.
“ Lipstick?” The word slipped out, and she wondered if he was even aware of saying it.
She looked down. Her hands angled out in front as if holding an open book. “I’ve decided my life needs a total overhaul. I haven’t talked about it much, but I’ve been unhappy with myself for years.”
“Uhh, honey, you talk about it frequently.”
“Do I? Sorry.” A frown formed. She bit down on her bottom lip, a childhood habit she couldn’t seem to break. She swallowed, and brought her eyes back to his face where only concern registered.
