by Kate Benson
“Huh?”
“The guy at the coffee shop?” she continues, her eyes twinkling in wonder, yet showing no signs of anything other than genuine curiosity. “I went in to get a hot chocolate on the way to the health store this morning after you’d left. Rachel said she thought you may have left with some guy you were talking to.”
“I didn’t leave with him,” I insist, my eyes narrowing enough to make her giggle. “And who the hell is Rachel?”
“One of my friends. She’s in my Women’s Studies class.”
“Well, someone should tell her taking that class doesn’t give her a right to spy on other women,” I quip, quite proud of myself until I meet Marissa’s deadpan stare. “Anyway, I didn’t leave with him and I barely know the guy. He just saw me reading and we talked about my book for a few minutes. That’s all.”
“Oh, okay,” she shrugs, feigning disinterest. “I figured it was something like that. I know you’re all anti-love and crap now.”
“I’m not anti-love. I’m anti-holidays and anti-people being in my face,” I argue. “Just because I don’t fawn all over Hallmark movies from Halloween until the start of the New Year doesn’t mean I don’t want a boyfriend ever. I just refuse to settle and every single guy I’ve met over the course of my entire life is stupid and dull and only wants one thing out of me, so I’m just going to enjoy my own damn company for a while. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I was just asking! I’m sorry I did now,” she smirks, putting her hands up in mock retreat. “Although…”
“Although what?”
“Rachel said he was pretty hot.”
“Oh, did she?” I ask suspiciously. “And what else, pray tell, did Rachel say?”
“Nothing much,” she beams. “Just that he was laughing at your jokes, which is really all I needed to know to determine that he’s into you, too.”
“What?” I ask, hating the blush of my cheeks. “Okay, well for starters, I’m not into him. It was a two second conversation about a book that is now apparently spiraling out of control. Had I known I was being followed by you and your relationship swat team, I would have avoided it altogether,” I lie, the memory of his dimples and light eyes making me internally swoon despite the charming look of disdain tainting my features. Marissa simply laughs at my theatrics. “And I’ve gotta be honest, Riss. Your friend Rachel sounds like a real piece of work.” My words make her laugh harder before she shakes her head in my direction. “Anyway, what does laughing at a joke have to do with liking someone?”
“Well, nothing usually, but your jokes aren’t very funny,” she says bluntly with a shrug. “I’m only saying that if he was laughing at one of them, he obviously wants to bone you.”
I gasp in immediate offense, which only makes her laugh harder despite the French fry I’m launching at her forehead.
“Oh, calm down. I’m just screwing with you. You know I think you’re hilarious and I obviously have no interest in boning you.”
“Yeah,” I shake my head, unable to hide my amusement. “Like you’d ever have a chance with me anyway. You should be so lucky.”
“Eww!” she exclaims, her face contorting immediately, pulling a snort from me. “You’re so disgusting! I’m your sister!”
“See?” I smirk triumphantly. “You were wrong. I can be funny.”
“You’re the worst,” she lies, making me brush her off before we grow silent and I focus on my food, grateful the conversation is behind me.
It isn’t that I have a hard time talking to Marissa. Truth be told, she’s one of the only people remaining in my life I’m comfortable talking to about anything of any real substance.
The trouble isn’t her, the trouble, I’m finding now, is this mystery guy I’ve run into twice now.
Usually when I meet someone, I forget them instantly. Not for lack of compassion or because I have no desire to make friends, but the simple fact of the matter is that the fewer people you let into your life, the less chance you have of being hurt. My sister and I learned that lesson a lot earlier than most girls ever do. And unfortunately, we learned it the hard way.
When our parents died, we were both so much younger than most people are when they go through such a tragedy. Not only that, we had no one to call for advice, no one left in our immediate family to lean on when we needed someone most. Thankfully, we had each other. It was then, the night of our parent’s funeral and less than two weeks before our eighteenth birthday, that we decided that until we found someone neither of us could live without, it would be the two of us against the world.
Now, with both of us being away at school and not together every single day, it gets lonely as hell sometimes. Some days, it’s all I can do to not close myself into the safety of my beat-up car and drive the three hours that separates me from Marissa just to not feel so alone in the world. It can be tough, but you know what’s worse than being that kind of lonely? Depending on someone and then waking up one day to find out you’re on your own all over again.
My sister and I made our pact that first night and ever since, we’ve stuck to it through thick and thin, come what may.
No guy, especially not some mystery guy with a girlfriend I’d just happened to sit across from while we were both hiding in a quiet corner of a coffee shop, will ever have the ability change that.
I don’t care how devastatingly hot his dimples are.
“You’re thinking about him right now, aren’t you?”
Marissa’s voice intrudes my thoughts and I can feel my eyes roll so severely, I’m quite certain I’ve just viewed the back of my own skull.
“No, I’m not,” I lie, convinced she’ll never find out.
“Look, I don’t care if you like him,” she argues, calling me out immediately. “In fact, I think it’d be pretty cool if you did,” she admits with a shrug. “Just don’t lie about it.”
“I’m not lying,” I insist, quite lyingly.
“You’re doing it right now!” she laughs. “Just tell me his name. Can you give me that at least?”
“No,” I start, ready to explain but she cuts me off again.
“Why not! I tell you everything!” she exclaims. “And you never have anything good to talk about and I sit around and listen to all your boring school crap and the one time-!”
“I don’t know his name!” I confess, cutting her rant short as I begin laughing at her eyes when she narrows them back at me. “Honest. I really don’t.”
“Fine,” she huffs. “You’re pretty convincing for a liar.”
“Don’t act so dramatic. I never lie to you, Marissa.”
“Well, you just did,” she argues gently. “However, I also know that you have terrible social skills, so despite the double life you’ve started, I’m inclined to believe you,” she sighs, leaning forward onto her palm as she gazes across at me, studying me silently.
“I don’t know what my social skills have to do with anything at all.”
“They have everything to do with it, Abs,” she counters with confidence. “You have to talk to people to get a boyfriend and I’ve witnessed that kind of action out of you two, maybe three times in the history of ever. I love you to death, but I’m not convinced you have any idea how to speak to anyone outside of me, yet you always manage to make friends wherever you go.” She continues to study me despite the deadpanned expression I’m meeting her with, fascination covering her face dramatically enough that I can’t contain the groan of annoyance in my chest for very long at all. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know how you do it!”
“You’re so dumb,” I shake my head, dipping another French fry into a thick coat of ketchup as I shake my head and pop it into my mouth. “Seriously. You’re like the worst sister ever.”
“Says the liar who just told her very impressionable twin an incest joke in the middle of a crowded diner.”
We finish our lunch, continuing our typically lazy but comfortable talk about nothing. Despite my trash talk and hers as well, this is my
favorite thing about Marissa. That we can just sit and talk about nothing and still have more fun than most people either of us know. She’s loud and she can be so upbeat and positive at times, I find her completely maddening, but she balances me out and both of us know I wouldn’t trade her for the world.
As we’re finishing up, locals and tourists alike are filing in, intruding on what had been a relatively quiet affair. Their bags are filled to their brims, overflowing with extravagant gifts they’ll likely forget about before the New Year begins.
There’s a part of me, a part I’ll likely never admit to anyone else, that envies them.
While I stand firm in my beliefs that Christmas has become over-commercialized and centered around materialistic things that only help you feign happiness for a brief moment until real life shrieks its ugly head, some days I wish I didn’t feel that way. Some days, I wish I was just as lost in the moments these people are capable of feeling as they search high and low, desperate to convey their affections with something on a rack they’ve just spent the better part of an afternoon scouring through in desperation.
How wonderfully simple would my life be if I could give my sister a sweater or a pair of earrings and she would know deep down in the pits of her soul just how much I love her? How much peace would my heart feel if I could have bought my mother a necklace or my father a gold watch and known they would wear it on their hearts always, even after they had both left us behind?
I blink back the tears that always come when I think of my parents, about how much I miss them every single second of every day and somehow more approaching my least favorite time of the year. I hate the bitter taste that comes with swallowing my emotions and as I clear my throat, I silently curse myself when I feel Marissa’s eyes fall on me.
“Things were so different when they were here,” she says, her quiet voice promising not just that I’m not completely alone in my thoughts, but that hers are mirroring mine. “The house was always decorated so beautifully, so meticulously,” she continues, her eyes softening at the memory as it begins to take her away to the same place mine is taking me. “Mom always made sure it was the most magical day of the entire year.”
“Yeah,” I nod, swallowing hard once more. “Yeah, I remember. She never missed a detail, never left a single stone unturned.”
“Do you remember that year she decided to revive fruitcakes?”
Her words pull an involuntary laugh from deep inside my chest, one I don’t expect, and it takes both of us over.
“How could either of us ever forget that?” I counter, the memory of coming home to find the kitchen covered in remnants of flour and fury, our mother sitting on the tile covered in pieces of strewn batter, sipping rum directly from the bottle.
“Well, I’m out of rum so I guess Christmas is cancelled!” we mimic her dramatic words in unison, the memory taking hold of us in the most wonderful way before reality threatens to slip into our perfect moment and we silently lock it away for safe keeping.
“Do you think…?”
“Let’s not do that,” Marissa cuts me off, reaching for my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze that pulls me away from my bittersweet thoughts. “Neither of them would want us to be sad and that’s not why we’re here, right?” she asks, pulling a nod from me as I clear my throat. “Okay, then. Let’s go do something fun.”
“Okay,” I nod, discreetly wiping my cheek on the sleeve of my coat before I let my eyes go back to hers. “What do you want to do?”
“Ice skating? Shopping? Eat a whole pie for dessert?” she lists off before reaching for her own coat and giving me a shrug. “Whatever we want. We’re on vacation, right?” she asks, pulling another nod from me. “Then let’s act like it. Let’s get out of our funkity funk and go have some fun. What do you say?”
I stare back at my sister, admiring her resilience before I can’t help but flash her a wide smile.
“You had me at ‘eat a whole pie.’”
Chapter Seven
Abby
By our third morning here, my feet are on autopilot on their way through the line at the coffee shop. I’m stepping away from the counter, taking great pleasure in the first sip of my vanilla latte when I glance at my usual spot and find it isn’t empty. I’m about to turn around and leave, mentally preparing myself for the mayhem that is my sister flailing over her yoga mat at eight a.m. when the imposters eyes raise and suddenly fall on mine.
It’s Dimples.
“Hey!” he calls out, surprising me when he waves, ushering me over. Well, it looks like he’s talking to me, but why the hell would he be? I glance behind me and find no one before my eyes return to find him smirking at my reaction. “Yes, I’m talking to you,” he admits with a chuckle, ushering me over once more. “Come here.”
I clear the distance between us awkwardly, twisting and turning between the crowded tables until I come to a stop at the edge of mine… err… his.
“What’s up?”
“I’m really sorry I took your spot,” he starts, gesturing to the people taking up his usual table on my left. “In my defense, my hands were kind of tied, but I did save you a seat and took the liberty of buying an extra muffin to give you as a peace offering,” he continues, pointing to the empty seat across from him. I glance down at the crumbly pastry sitting just right in front of me, the simple but thoughtful gesture of this virtual stranger making my stomach flurry with butterflies. I’m about to tell him how nice it was of him to consider me when it would have been easier not to when his deep voice cuts me off once more. “You don’t have to sit here if you don’t want to,” he chuckles. “I mean, I get that I’m kind of coming off like a bit of a creeper right now,” he goes on, making me shake my head despite my laughter. “But I’ve noticed you like to sit here and read, and I felt bad about taking your seat. I’d just give you the table if I could, but I’m in the middle of something, so unfortunately…”
“That was really nice,” I say quietly, cutting his rambling words short and I slowly move toward the chair and lowering myself into its cushions. “Thank you for being so considerate.”
“No problem,” he shrugs. “I mean, us corner dwellers have to stick together, right?” he asks me with a smile, bringing one to my own lips as I nod my agreement. “Besides, I’m sure you’d have done the same for me.”
While my introverted ways make me less certain than him, I like to think I’m a nice person, so I nod once more despite the reservations my insecurities leave me with.
“So, which one are you reading today?” he asks, prompting me to reveal the cover, silently reveling in the way his eyes begin to crinkle with excitement for me. “That’s a really good one,” he insists, making me nod. “Have you read it already?”
“Yes. Probably at least five times,” I admit. “This is another of my favorites.”
“It’s pretty remarkable,” he agrees. “And the movie is one of the few adaptations I think is nearly as genius as the book.”
“Oh, my God! Yes! The movie is amazing!” I begin, my eyes growing wide in agreement. “I mean… not nearly as good as the book, but…”
“Yeah, but what movie ever is?” he finishes my thought, making me sigh as my eyes wander off into the distance. “Well, enjoy it enough for the both of us and send my love to Johnny.”
“I will,” I promise with a giggle and after a brief pause, his eyes move to his screen once more.
I relax slightly, folding my legs under myself and leaning back against the wall beside us.
Over the course of the morning, we speak easily, and I learn that sadly, he’s just as stupidly unavailable as I’d originally suspected. He doesn’t say outright that he’s with someone, but there’s something about his guarded words that make me think there’s no way he isn’t.
I also learn that he grew up in a small town not too far from the outskirts of Cringle Cove and that he and his family came here for years when he was young, but this is his first venture back in a couple of Christmases since he
started college. He talks about the holidays they’d spent here, the twinkle in his eye as he recalls the pleasant memories something that would normally have my eyes rolling. For some reason, though, with him, I simply smile small to myself thinking about a younger version of him, dimples and all, taking all of it in.
“So where do you go to school?” I ask as he reaches for his cup, giving it a gentle swirl.
“Nowhere now,” he shakes his head. “I graduated from Penn State last year, and I got a job right outside of Allentown.”
“No way!” I exclaim, making him tilt his head in curiosity despite the way my excitement makes us both jump in our seats. “Sorry,” I blush. “I just… that’s where I’ll be working after I finish my degree,” I admit. “I’ve already got a job lined up. Well, I mean technically, I’ll be doing the last few months there as an intern and next year, everything will be official, but I don’t know anything about it. I’ve actually only even been there once, and it was for the interview.”
“Oh, really?” he replies, his lips quirking up on either side. “That’s pretty cool,” he admits. “You’ll love Allentown. It’s small enough to feel kind of homey and big enough so you’ll never get bored,” he continues. “I thought it’d be a weird adjustment coming from such a small town, but it really grew on me immediately. The people there are all really nice, too.”
“That makes me feel a lot better,” I confess, the subtle weight that had been resting on my shoulders for the last few weeks easing slightly. “I don’t know anyone there at all, so I’ve been nervous.”
“Well, I guess you can’t really say that anymore,” he shrugs, swirling his cup once more and taking the final sip. “Now you know you’ll have at least one friend when you get there.”
His words are simple, the gesture one I’m sure he won’t even remember by the time we leave this table, but it’s still a sweet one that I find I appreciate very much. I’m about to tell him as much when I glance over to see him tipping his cup back, his predicament mirroring mine as he struggles for the last drops of salvation at the bottom to no avail.
