Not Okay, Cupid

by Heidi R. Kling

  Hazel had so much going for her. She was so smart and ambitious. Her future was so bright. Hazel could do anything she set out to do, whereas, who knew where I’d end up? That wasn’t a risk someone like Hazel was willing to take.

  If it came down to it, I wouldn’t let her take that risk anyway.

  My stomach lurched. My palms began to sweat.

  “Are you okay, Felix?”

  “I…” I pulled over the truck to the curb, hopped out, and puked my guts out on the sidewalk. I was clearly not okay.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Hazel

  Stop thinking about his kisses. Stop thinking about what he was doing with Barb this very minute. Just stop!

  I slammed my book shut.

  I couldn’t concentrate.

  But if I’d made the right choice, why did I feel so terrible?

  Just then my phone pinged with an unexpected ring tone. The song I reserved for my ex-best friend. It was a text from Kimmy.

  KIMMY: I know you don’t want to hear from me but I thought you’d want to know Felix is sick.

  Sick? Oh no! I replied right away, even though I told her yesterday I never wanted to hear from her again.

  HAZEL: How bad?

  KIMMY: Bad. He’s in the bathroom puking and he has a high fever. He won’t let me near him. My mom said I should call you. I guess he caught it from you.

  Call me? Poor Felix! Caught my flu when he was only trying to help me feel better.

  HAZEL: Did he say he wanted me?

  KIMMY: I don’t know, Hazel. My mom just said to invite you. Do you want to come over or not?

  God she was awful. But maybe he said he wanted me? If he asked for me there was hope! There was hope. With trembling, hopeful fingers I texted back

  HAZEL: I’ll be there in ten minutes.

  Jumping off my bed, I quickly sprinted into the bathroom and splashed my face with cool water. My eyes were still all red from my frustrated afternoon of tears over Felix. But now Felix was sick. And he wanted me. Even though I knew there’d be nil opportunity for a smooch fest, I brushed my teeth.

  I skipped down the stairs and rummaged through my leftover flu supplies for Felix: ibuprofen, lemon tea, chicken soup, orange juice—and tossed it all in a reusable bag with a Tree of Life on the outside. We weren’t allowed to use plastic bags in stores anymore. If we didn’t have a reusable bag, we had to pay a quarter. I thought it was a great policy. People will spend a hundred bucks on groceries, but they wouldn’t want to spend twenty-five cents at school. I was also on the committee at school to introduce composting buckets. It took a while to get the district to pass it, but now we had compost buckets in all the schools—even the elementary and middle schools.

  What else would Felix need?

  I flashed back to my disgusting flu.

  Oh, right. Saltine crackers. I drove to Felix’s house as fast as I could and knocked on the door.

  “Hi,” Kimmy greeted me.

  “Hi,” I managed to mutter without rolling my eyes. “Can I come in?”

  She was blocking my way in her white mini-shirt, white tank top and freshly ironed hair.

  “Felix doesn’t want to see you.”

  “What? You just called me and told me to come over.”

  “Well,” she shrugged, all bony shoulders and indifference, “he changed his mind.”

  “Oh.” All the excited optimism I’d felt moments ago as I raced over, as I packed the stuff to help Felix feel better, the way he made me feel better when I was sick, vanished in a poof.

  Wait. What did he mean by he changed his mind?

  “Fine. He’s asleep.”

  “Oh. Okay. Well, when he wakes up, could you at least give him the stuff I brought over?”

  Kimmy eyed my bag coolly. “Sure.”

  “What’s your problem? You stole my boyfriend you know,” I said.

  “My problem,” Kimmy said, scooting into my personal space on the concrete step, the one we used to draw unicorns and rainbows on with colored chalk when we were kids, “Is you going to the dance with my boyfriend. My problem is that you’re ‘dating’ my brother.”

  Yes, she used air quotes.

  “I was dating your brother,” I said.

  “Oh yeah. Right. Was.” Like she didn’t believe me. But I wasn’t sure which part she didn’t believe so I just stood there a bit confused. Kimmy and I hadn’t talked just the two of us, without an audience since I discovered the cheating.

  I had no idea what was about to happen.

  “Little Miss Perfect Hazel dating Felix James? I didn’t buy it. Not for one second. I kept telling Jay you were full of shit. But then…I don’t know. The way you guys looked at each other in the hallway. I haven’t seen him look at any other girl that way. And the way you looked at him. I hadn’t seen that either. Not with Jay. Not with anyone.”

  I blinked.

  “What’s going on, Hazel?” she asked, her voice suddenly authentic. Old Kimmy. Best friend Kimmy. Whispering secrets under the covers Kimmy.

  “Nothing. I… Just… Give this to him, okay?”

  As much as I needed my best friend. As much as I wanted to gush out the secrets, all the angst, all the confusion about my feelings, I couldn’t. I didn’t trust her. As bad as it hurt, we couldn’t be friends anymore.

  “You were really going to go into that germ-infested room to take care of him, weren’t you?” Kimmy asked.

  I blinked again. I was. “Yeah.”

  “You wouldn’t even bring me soup if I was sick. You’re the classic germaphobe.”

  “Yeah. So.”

  “So why are you going with Jay to the dance when you want to go to with my brother?”

  Her astute words were a gun nailing me to my place.

  I couldn’t move.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  I had to try.

  “Because! Because Felix has a date! Because I want to go with Jay.”

  She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You may hate me now. You might think I’m the worst friend in the world, but guess what. I know you, Hazel McAllister, probably better than you know yourself.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means sometimes plans change. It means sometimes the life you think you wanted isn’t the one you truly need.”

  Shit.

  Kimmy James, Beach Town Poet?

  Prophet?

  I had to make light of her observations. I had to get out of here.

  “Oh, thanks, wise sage, boyfriend stealer.”

  Kimmy shrugged. “Whatever. I’ll tell Felix you brought this by.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And Hazel?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I never meant to hurt you, you know. Sometimes…sometimes things happen. Feelings take over and you find yourself making choices you never would normally.”

  “Choices?” I was almost fuming.

  She must have seen my expression. “Mistakes,” she said. “Not just choices. Mistakes. It was like…with Jay, I was on autopilot. Or possessed by a spirit, like what happened on Vampire Diaries that one time, remember?”

  I nodded. I hated that I understood the analogy, but after what I’d gone through with Felix, I understood completely.

  “I know it doesn’t make it any better. But I’m sorry. I really am.”

  “Thanks for apologizing,” I said, swallowing hard.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Felix

  Two Days Till Valentine’s Day

  Three days later, I was finally feeling decent enough to keep a little food down. I still hadn’t gone back to school, but I figured I was okay to run the grill at Fred’s, so I went back to work.

  I thought I’d actually puke my guts out that night, and the following day, but like Hazel, I’d survived.

  Kimmy told me later that I was mumbling Hazel’s name in my feverish state—embarrassing—and that she dropped off a bag of food and medici
ne for me.

  I texted her later to thank her, and she texted back:

  HAZEL: You’re welcome. Feel better!

  But that was it. Nothing more. Nothing specially Hazel. So I let it go.

  Now that I was feeling better, I felt weird pressing my sister for more details, but I wanted to know everything: what was she wearing? How was she acting? Did she want to come up and see me?

  What was I, a Downton Abby character?

  Gah.

  This was bad.

  And besides, I hated Kimmy for what she’d done to Hazel.

  Anyway, it didn’t matter anymore about Hazel. It was over between us before it even began because it was never real. Not to her, anyway.

  Hazel was going to the dance with Jay. Kimmy was pissed. Jay was…who knew what Jay was, but in general? Mission accomplished.

  So why did I feel so awful?

  Probably residuals from that nasty stomach flu, that’s all. I wiped my palms off on my pants and shook off the gross feeling crawling around in my guts, threatening its way up my chest, eager to ping my heart.

  That was the worst side effect of this flu. A pain in my heart. Almost like I was being stabbed by Cupid’s poisonous arrow. Tums, Pepto, nothing helped.

  The pain in my heart lingered on so bad I had to continually swallow to ward off tears. Tears! Me! Man tears. Who was I becoming?

  And I couldn’t stop ruminating about her face in the hallway. Imagining her standing on my porch, looking adorable, ringing my bell.

  And then, ultimately, looping back to STFU Felix. What in the world is wrong with you? I was worse than the characters I used to make fun of on my sister’s CW shows. Nightmare. I was living a nightmare.

  I had to get back to work.

  It was a busy night at Fred’s, and I was grateful for that. The raw chunks of meat resting on the stainless-steel counter grossed me out to the point of nearly almost puking again, but at least dealing with them kept my mind off of Hazel.

  Orders flew at me right and left.

  Soon I had a dozen burgers going. Cooking was simple. That’s why I liked it. Toss the fresh ground beef or turkey burger down, listen to it sizzle, smell the juicy goodness, wait until it’s ready and then flip it. Done. When it’s fully cooked through the middle—not too pink—I scoop it up, stick it on a bun and/or melt cheese on it first, and/or pile it with sizzling bacon, put the whole thing on a white plate, lift it onto the counter, and ping the little silver bell, “Order up!”

  Simple.

  (Unless the diner complains about something, but that’s usually an easy fix.)

  My pal Jonas was on the fries. He did the best job with the sweet potato ones, let them deep fry until they packed that perfect crunch on the outside with a squishy softness on the inside. “Hey, Felix,” he shouted above the deep fryer. His hat tipped to the side a bit like an elf.

  “Yeah?” I called back.

  “When are you introducing your famous new basil mayonnaise? These babies are crying out for it, brother. Wait till you try this batch. Perfection. God I’m good.”

  “What sauce?” I played dumb.

  That was another thing eating away at my gut.

  “You know what sauce, man.”

  I nodded. Grimaced. Focused back on my grill.

  Fred had put it back on the menu. I was going to surprise Hazel after the stupid cupid Valentine’s Day, but stupid cupid screwed everything up by insisting Jay and Hazel go to the dance together. Or maybe I insisted that by ignoring her plea in the hallway,

  “Felix!” she had cried out, and it hadn’t seemed fake at all. But maybe she was just a better actor than I was.

  “I…I think I’ll ask Fred to take it off the menu after all.”

  “Why? It’s great, and I think the customers will dig it.”

  “I guess I don’t think it’s as great as I thought I did.”

  “No way. It’s even better than you think. It’s the best thing you’ve invented, and you know, as your key taster, I’ve sampled it all.”

  “What’s this about you taking the Hazel Basil off the Valentine’s menu?” Fred said. “That ain’t happening. You know how much those menus cost to print?”

  “Right. No problem, Fred.”

  Fred cupped my shoulder. “Lady problems, son?”

  “Something like that,” I said.

  “I’ve always hated Valentine’s Day,” Fred said, shaking his head. “But sometimes Cupid surprises even the most jaded of us.”

  “If you say so, Freddie.”

  “I do! Now get back to work; those burgers aren’t gonna flip themselves.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Hazel

  One Day Till Valentine’s Day

  Going to the dance with Jay should have made me feel good. Kimmy apologizing should have made me feel good. But it didn’t. Inside, I just felt empty.

  But at least I was back to my normal routine.

  I woke up every day at 6:30 a.m.

  I was out of the shower by 6:45 a.m.

  I was dressed, hair done, light make up on and eating my oatmeal with organic blueberries at our dining nook by 7:00 a.m.

  I was completely out our lemon-colored door by 7:15 a.m.

  Yes, I was incredibly self-aware for the most part. When it came to everything in my planned life anyway. When it came to Felix James, however? I had no idea what I was doing.

  Life with Felix had felt disorienting. Like riding a roller coaster I’d never been on before, so I couldn’t predict the twists and turns. What would make me squeal with laughter might make me scream in fear two seconds later.

  I bumped into Felix James.

  “Hey, Baze,” he said, and immediately I was rushed back to the café with him sitting across from me, to the hallway, to the kisses.

  I blinked. Clearly, I needed to stop watching all of those dramadies with my mom.

  “You okay?” he asked, tipping his head so the soft fluff of Felix James hair fell over his forehead. It looked a little longer in the back too. Was sort of softly puffing up. No. How could hair grow in three days? You haven’t seen him for three days. That’s it.

  “I’m fine. Are you?”

  “I am now. I was pretty sick.” He adjusted his weight from side to side. He was wearing red Converse low-tops. “Thanks again for leaving that stuff for me. I liked the soup. And the Kleenex.”

  “I’m glad.” I smiled like I hadn’t since I saw him standing on the bottom of my stairs in my mom’s apron waving that spatula around.

  “It’s good to see you,” he said.

  “It’s good to see you, too,” I said back.

  I didn’t want to run. I wanted to stay.

  I glanced at his hand, remembered how mine felt in his. Could I grab it and just run out the double doors, let them swing behind us as we ran? We could grab our surfboards, head to sea, figure everything out…

  Another shift of red Converse.

  “I’m sorry. I feel like…I don’t know.”

  “Why?” He did this cute frowny question shrug thing, like, Who cares? “It was just a game, right Baze? And it looked like you won. Got everything you wanted, right?”

  “Did I?”

  What did I ask him? It just came out. I clamped my hand over my mouth, hoping to push it back in. Stupid words. Dumb Valentine’s Day fodder.

  “So are you still going to the dance?” I said, changing the subject.

  “Yeah. I’m still going with Barb.”

  “Good.” An arrow to the heart. “That’ll be fun for you.”

  He nodded. Shrugged. “I guess.”

  “So,” —gulp— “I’ve got to get to class.” I wrapped my pale yellow cardigan around my chest like it was forty degrees in the seventy-five degree hallway. The sweater was Jay’s favorite. The one with the pearl buttons. I was back to wearing my headbands, too. If I looked the same as before, I could get back on track. I could put Felix James behind me.

  Felix glanced up at it before looking me straig
ht in the eye.

  “Okay,” he said. But he didn’t move past me. In fact, he didn’t move at all.

  “Felix?”

  “Yeah, Baze?”

  “Thank you,” I said, past the lump in my throat. I’m surprised he could even hear me. Had he heard me?

  Taking a step closer, he glanced at my quivering lips. “What for?” he asked, his voice, too, barely a whisper.

  “For reminding me,” I said.

  “Reminding you?”

  “Yes.”

  He didn’t have time to ask what, as I made myself push forward, one foot in front of the other. How I managed to propel myself away from Felix James when everything in my body was fighting to stay right there in his orbit—when all I wanted to do was stay—was exactly what he’d reminded me: how to live.

  Chapter Forty

  Felix

  It is a difficult matter to keep love imprisoned.

  Trying as best as I could to forget about Hazel and move forward with my life, I decided to go ironic for the dance in an attempt to be excited about it. Or, if I was being honest, in an attempt to be okay with going at all.

  So I rented a vintage tux from Sunny Cove thrift store. By rented, I meant I begged the hipster clerks to let me “buy” it for half price if I promised to return it tomorrow. Hemming and hawing and then finally giggling in unison, the way girls do sometimes, they agreed if I promised not to tell their manager and swore I didn’t spill on it. “Hey,” I’d said in my most charming voice, palming my heart earnestly. “Do I look like the kind of guy who’d spill?” Predictably, they teased me mercifully about how yes, I was the perfect type who would spill.

  The tux was worth it. It was too perfect to pass up: powder-blue ruffles with a powder blue cummerbund and polyester bottoms. I opted out of the top hat because it was a bit too much, even for me. Underneath the pants, my Cupid boxers stuck out the top.

  Well played, Felix James. I admired myself in the warped mirror of the thrift store. The girls who worked here, all hipster types, recent college grads who couldn’t find work doing anything that made real money, fussed over me, bringing me various things to try with it, including a smashing pair of white wing-tipped shoes. Eventually, I just opted for my red Converse. I couldn’t afford the snazzy shoes.