by Devyn Dawson
“I think there’s Pamprin in the office, if you need it,” Sam says sarcastically. Good thing I like him or I’d write him up just because I can.
“I’m not PMSing and just for that, you get to mop the floor tonight.” Without turning around, I head back to the office. When memories of Andy pop into my head, I’m reminded how lonely life is without her. I’ve been going to her grave and sitting there for hours. She was always my sounding board when it came to my dad, now I feel guilty for all the times I made her listen to me complain. We should have spent more time doing pranks and laughing at stupid movies. Now, I’ll never be able to do those things with someone. Lately, everything reminds me of her and I’ll either cry or get angry. It isn’t that I’m mad at her, it’s I don’t know when the pain will stop. My therapist says dumb things like, time heals all wounds, or everyone grieves differently. The therapist was Aunt Laney’s idea since the health insurance policy she bought for me covers the visits.
“Knock, knock,” Sam’s voice brings me back to reality. “Hey, do I really have to mop the floor? I have plans after work and I don’t want to smell like bleach and dirty mop water.”
“I told you to mop not take a bath. I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t ever hint for me to take Pamprin again, okay?”
“Deal. Your Aunt Laney is in the store, do you want me to send her back here?”
“No, I’ll go out there.”
***
Chapter Two. Raven
The full length mirror in my bedroom has two lipstick kisses on it. One night Andy and I were getting ready to go to a trendy bookstore in Oklahoma City. We loved to listen to local musicians sing. That night, I stood in front of the mirror and she kissed the mirror on my reflection’s cheek. She told me I’d always have a kiss from her when I looked in the mirror. Being silly, I stood on my tippy-toes and kissed the mirror on her cheek.
Now, as I stand in front of the mirror, I feel like I’m cheating on her by going with Sam and his sister to that same bookstore tonight. Sam’s sister, Bethany, wants to go see this guy who played a couple of weeks ago and he’s playing again tonight. They’ve been trying to convince me to get up and sing but I’m not doing any such thing without a drink or two in my system. Since I’m the designated driver, there won’t be any drinking tonight. Andy was notorious for making me get up and embarrass myself in front of strangers. I smile to myself at the memory of the craziness we did when we were together. I’ve hung out with Sam and Bethany a few times since Sam and his girlfriend broke up last month.
I fasten my necklace and put on the hoop earrings Andy bought me for my birthday last year. I take a step back to get the full effect of my outfit of skinny jeans, yellow loose midriff top and a pair of funky wedges. The top is only short enough to get a peek of my tan tummy; anything shorter and I’d be too paranoid I’d flash my goodies.
The TV is blaring a cooking show where a guy eats enormous meals in a set timeframe. Dad is in a good mood today as opposed to manic. His medication is regulated and seems to be helping him have longer periods of normal. His brand of normal isn’t the average person’s idea of normal. There’s a new program for mental health patients who live at home but aren’t able to hold a job. A local nursery sent over an employee with a bunch of pots and potting soil. Together they planted a variety of vegetables that will eventually be harvested and sold. Dad will get to keep half of the profits if he sits at the vegetable stand a couple of times a month. He’s been proud about how well everything is growing. It’s too soon for me to get my hopes up, but I am hopeful.
“Are you going out?” Dad asks as he shoves a handful of popcorn in his mouth. He’s wearing his gardening clothes, a t-shirt and a pair of cutoffs.
“Yeah, I’ll be home pretty late. Do you have a drink?” I ask before going into the kitchen to get his pills together. The doctor suggested I keep the medicine locked up in case he gets depressed when I’m not home. It would be nice to be able to go out for the entire weekend and not have to worry about him taking his medicine, or killing himself.
The kitchen is small but clean and tidy.
My aunt had a construction crew come over and update the kitchen two years ago. It isn’t fancy with stainless steel appliances and granite countertops, but it’s nice. The French-country kitchen is cool with the distressed off-white cabinets and butcher block counters. I love baking in this kitchen but the weather is getting too warm to run the oven. It’s only May but the thermostat has been rising steadily for the last few weeks. The high today was ninety but the nights are still cool enough to sleep with the windows open.
“Here Dad, take these,” I say as I hand him a glass of sweet tea and a handful of pills. “If you need anything, text me.”
“Be good and stay away from those military guys, okay?”
He’s always warned me to stay away from the military guys. He’s convinced that they’re nothing but trouble. I’ve never met any who weren’t looking for a piece of ass and a party. “Don’t worry Dad,” I say and give him a peck on the cheek. Thankfully he started taking showers since he’s been working outside or I would’ve waved to him.
***
Sam and Bethany share a small ranch house with their other sister Victoria. I learned the moment I met her that she’s bat-shit crazy. I’m not sure how many drugs she’s done, but she’s fried some brain cells. Apparently, she’s like a mad scientist and is always inventing something that will alter the way we live everyday life. When Bethany impersonates her sister, I usually laugh so hard tears stream down my face.
“Are you freakin’ kidding me? Shut the front door, you look SICK!” Victoria shouts at me as I walk in the house.
“You just closed the door and I feel fine,” I say to her. Nuttier than my dad.
Sam laughs as he comes over to hug me. He thinks he’s being European if he hugs and air kisses everyone who enters the house. “You do look sick!”
“If I look that sick, I better go home then.”
“You really don’t know what that means do you? Sick as in amazing. You look amazing and I’m guessing you took her literal when she said to shut the front door. She’s trying not to say the F-word anymore. It’s all part of her plan to get on Ellen with one of her inventions.”
“Oh, okay, that makes more sense. I really was confused about the door.” We walk to the back of the house where Bethany is applying vampire-red lipstick. She’s prettier than average but it’s her humor that takes her to the next level. Bethany is hilarious with her commentary of everything that happens. Give the girl a drink and she becomes the funniest comedian since Eddie Murphy. My dad has made me watch Eddie’s comedy since I was born. When my mom was around, we watched her favorite Eddie Murphy movie, The Golden Child. I haven’t seen it since the stormy night she walked out of our lives.
“Well, if you don’t get a man tonight, they’re blind. I swear you have the best ass for a white girl. Those jeans need to be called your bootie jeans from this day forward,” Bethany exclaims.
Me catching a guy is the last thing I need right now. “Bootie jeans from now on,” I reply. “Are you ready?”
“Honey, I was born ready. Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” Bethany says as she struts her way across the house. “Victoria, don’t blow anything up while we’re gone.”
***
The Raven Bookstore is on Western next to a trendy sushi bar. We find a parking space on the far end of the rear parking lot. The Raven sells books that appeal to a younger crowd. They carry Manga, Young Adult, Contemporary Fiction, Humor and Poetry. The walls are painted in black chalkboard paint and the shelves are all neon that glows under black-lights. An artist who crushed on Andy, covered the walls in Poe inspired graffiti. He would come into my store to buy vitamins and talk to me about how pretty Andy was. I haven’t seen him since she passed away.
“Oh wow, they finished the stage area, it looks insane!” Sam points towards the stage area that is now covered in drops of neon paint.
Bethan
y spins around in a circle, which I’ve come to realize is one of her signature moves when she’s very happy. “I can’t wait until you hear him play!”
Her energy is contagious and soon I find myself having a good time.
We pick a table close to the stage, front and center like Bethany wanted. I stop by the poetry section and pick up the book, A Thousand Mornings, by Mary Oliver. The last few times I came to buy the book, they were sold out. Sometimes, poetry speaks to me like music in a book.
Bethany and I both opted for vanilla lattes and organic oatmeal cookies. We’re totally party animals.
“You’re so lame, Beth, how can you drink coffee on a night on the town?” Sam says and sets his glass of beer down. “This is the best IPA, you should try it, Holland.”
“DD remember?”
“One beer won’t hurt you,” Sam says and sips on his beer.
“Yeah, well I’m not up to explaining to the cops that I’m underage, a lightweight, and reek of beer. I’ll stick to my free lattes. It causes the same amount of pee breaks, so everyone else will think I’m drinking too,” I pick up my coffee and hold it out for a toast. “To us!”
We clink our drinks together and laugh. It’s a good thirty minutes before the first musician takes the stage, but the bookstore filled up with at least another hundred people. Every place on Western is trendy and fills up with the twenty-somethings. The first musician walks across the stage and sits down on a stool with his acoustic guitar. All I notice about him is his pickle sized nose and his crazy curly brown hair. He starts out with a song by the Doors and everyone in the store crowds in to hear him sing. He sang several songs before he stands up and announces his name and promises to finish off the night with a couple of his own originals.
There’s a five minute break between musicians so I get up to use the restroom.
“He was cool, I like what he did with that one country song,” Bethany says as we open the bathroom door.
It’s early in the night for there to already be a line to get a stall. Girls are talking about whose singing next, a guy named Tate who is apparently the yummiest guy ever, per the girl in front of us.
The bathroom is bright compared to the bookstore. The walls are painted with a mural of a fairy tale. I find something new every time I stare at it. Bethany and I freshen up our lipstick and fluff our hair before heading back to our table. Tate had already started playing by the time we get to our table. Bethany grabs my arm and squeezes it too tight. “That’s him,” she whispers to me.
His voice, without the hint of an accent sings a haunting version of, Elvis Presley’s, Love Me Tender. Every strum of his guitar is deliberate, every note in his voice desperate. I can’t help but close my eyes and listen with my soul. The power of his words touch something in me that I’ll never be able to explain. It takes me back to a time when my mother would be at the kitchen sink and my dad would go up and wrap his arms around her and sing Elvis songs. As the song ends, I open my eyes as everyone applauds all around me.
“That was great wasn’t it?” Bethany shouts in my ear. “He’s so good, I’m surprised he hasn’t been picked up yet!”
The singer finally looks up at the crowd and my jaw drops. He’s the guy with the rash on his ass. It has to be him. No, it can’t be him. As if he can hear my inner commentary, he looks my direction. Someone yelps, and I’m praying it was Bethany, because if it wasn’t her, it was me. His face goes from solemn to a half crooked smile. Oh shit. He winks. Bethany’s fingers dig into my bicep as she squeals like a pig. “Beth, back off, you’re going to draw blood if you squeeze any harder,” I say as I pry her fingers off my arm.
“Did you see him wink? Be cool, act as if I said something funny.”
I’m certain he was winking at me. How does Sam not recognize rash-on-the-ass man? “He winked?” I say trying to play it off instead of argue the fact he’s trying to piss me off. I lick my lips nervously, a habit I do when I fib. Andy and my mom are the only ones who ever noticed, but I’m not thinking about that right now.
“He winked and if I have my way, he’s going to be doing more than winking in a little while!”
My hand goes to my mouth to cover the sound of me snorting. He stands up and fiddles with his guitar strap until the guitar is high on his chest. The familiar tune to Folsom Prison Blues is brought to life with his ease of singing. I’m zeroed in on his guitar, afraid to look at his face, afraid he’d realize he’s doing something to me. He’s breathing life into the song and into my soul. As the last words are sung and his playing stops, I’m reminded where I am by the applause coming from the crowd. I take a breath, not realizing I’d been holding it through the song.
“That was epic! Did you love it?” Bethany shouts over the applause.
It was epic and soulful. “He’s good,” is all I can say. “I could use a refill, do you want anything?” Sam knows I can’t legally buy him another beer so he scrunches his nose and nods, no.
There’s a large crowd gathered around the coffee station. I can tell the baristas are overwhelmed with orders, so I stand quietly before placing my order. Tate has started another song, this one from Oklahoma native, Garth Brooks. Not being zoned into his playing is helping my insides calm down before I have to face, Bethany, and her gushing over Tate. Once the barista looks caught up, I place my order. I have only two orders up before mine is ready. The music stops and the energy in the room shifts. He must be finished with his set. Thank God!
Out of nowhere, there’s tons of people surrounding the small coffee section. I scoot forward, closer to the pick-up area to stay out of the way. From behind, a whisper in my ear startles me and I jump.
“I recognize you,” he whispers. HE WHISPERED IN MY EAR! “Small world.”
He’s so close behind me, I catch myself before I lean back into him. The heat coming from his body is sobering as it penetrates through my clothes. God! I need a drink! Turning around, the grin on his face throws me off my center and I put my hand on the bar to keep me upright. His hand comes out and he grabs my elbow. God, why does he keep touching me? “Do I know you?” I blurt out in my attempt at being dumb.
“Either you have a twin and your male friend with you has a twin, or you work in the mall. You’ve actually seen my ass and it was fantasy worthy.”
Don’t laugh! “Your ass was fantasy worthy for me, or did me seeing your ass fulfill your own fantasy? You’re the rash guy who walked out without his refund.”
“I think it was a little of both,” he flashes that damn crooked grin at me. I bet he thinks he’s going to melt my panties off with that smoldering look. “I’m Tate,” he holds his hand out to me to shake.
Absently, I accept his hand and shake it, “I’m Holland.”
His black t-shirt is tight enough across his muscular chest that I can see the perfect outline of his pecs. The strap of his guitar has the Harley Davidson logo in bright orange against the black of the strap. The guitar is pulled up to his back and I can’t help wondering what it feels like to have a guitar on my back like a turtle’s shell. I wonder if he rides a motorcycle. I dated a guy in high school who rode a crotch rocket and he drove like a maniac everywhere we went.
“Nice name, have you been here before?” Tate asks.
“I have, it’s been a while. You have a lot of fans in the audience, do you play here often?” The barista calls my name and I add a packet of sugar to my latte.
He grins without showing his teeth. “I’ve played here a couple of times. Everyone’s been great to me here so I keep coming back. This is the coolest bookstore with a phenomenal clientele. Hey, I’ve got to go back on in a few minutes. Can I come over and visit you when I’m finished?”
“Ah, sure,” I stammer. Bethany is going to kill me.
“See you then,” he says and walks away pulling his guitar around in front of him.
“See you.” As I get back to the table, Sam and Bethany are deep in conversation.
Bethany leans over and asks, “What was he
saying to you?”
“Nothing really, he’s been in my store before. Do you remember him, Sam? He’s the guy who came in for a refund and had the rash on his butt?”
Bethany’s hand slaps the table hard enough to make the table wobble. “It didn’t appear to be nothing.”
“He said he wanted to come over and sit with us when he’s done. I’m not interested in him, Bethany. I’m not trying to move in on your guy,” I say sheepishly. The last thing I want to happen is a fight with the only girl who wants to be my friend.
She looks at me surprised and with a grin she reached over and patted my arm. “Girl, we’ve been dying to get you two together! When Sam and I were in here before he recognized him and said sparks were flying when he came into your store. We knew you wouldn’t come up here if you knew, so we kind of tricked you.” Bethany admits and for a split second, I’m pissed off, but they’re right, I wouldn’t have come.
“Sam, you knew this the whole time?” I glance at him and he’s grinning from ear to ear.
He holds up his beer and says, “To friends.”
That means I don’t have to feel guilty about him flirting with me.
“You saw his bum?” Bethany blurts out. “I pray it looks as good as it does in those jeans he has on. He should call them his bootie jeans. You’re not too mad at us are you?”
I hate being tricked. A part of me wants to storm out and be pissy, another part of me wants to jump for joy. “I’m not mad, but I’m paying you both back!” I hold up my latte and say, “Game on.”
Tate walks up on the stage and takes the microphone with his hands, he’s confident as he peers out to the crowd. “Hello folks, I’m Tate Cook and this is a little song you might know by Johnny Cash.” The crowd goes insane with applause. I only know the songs because they’re from my favorite movie, Walk the Line. His eyes check the audience before he settles his gaze on me. I’d never heard an acoustic version of Ring of Fire, but my heart starts pounding as he never averted his eyes.
