Playing Cupid

by SC Alban

  “What’s wrong with you this morning?” I said as I looked into the mirror. Something was…off. Forcing the feeling aside, I pulled my long brown hair back into a messy bun, leaned forward, and examined my reflection.

  I raised my eyebrows. How in the ever-loving heck did I manage to look paler than the first snow? I shook my head. It is what it is.

  I splashed water on my face and glanced at my rarely-used makeup bag. Studying my reflection once more, I reached out to grab some blush, but stopped midway, my fingers hovering over the compact. What difference would it make, anyway? It’s not like anyone would care, and lord knew I didn’t. Opting for a cherry lip balm, I rubbed it on liberally, rolling my lips together. I hit the light and headed downstairs to grab something to eat. Dad was already sitting at the table, hidden behind his newspaper.

  “Morning.” I grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured myself some coffee, loading it up with French vanilla creamer.

  “Morning,” he replied from behind his paper barrier. “You’re up early.”

  His voice was light, pleasant. I froze. Could this be the beginning of an actual conversation? One that didn’t end in a fight? My heart did a hesitant happy dance, and I took a seat in the chair opposite his.

  “I’m up this early every morning. For school…remember?”

  Dad put down his paper and stared at me. His mouth tightened as he rubbed the back of his neck. I held my breath.

  “Of course I remember you have school. Just thought you were already on break. That’s coming up, right?” His voice sounded awkward, like some tiny creature was in his throat pulling on his vocal cords.

  “Yeah, don’t worry about it,” I answered. His stiff posture showed he could barely tolerate being in the same room as me, and my heart slumped. Great, just another mandatory exercise to appear interested in my life. I couldn’t keep the disappointment from my tone. “Today’s the last day, and then I’m done with high school.”

  He cleared his throat and shifted his weight, straightening against the chair back. His shoulders tensed even tighter and his fingers, no longer clutching the paper, lightly tapped the edge of the table. He gestured to my cup. “Since when do you drink coffee?”

  “Oh, since forever.” I sighed and stood. “Well, I’ll see you later this afternoon.”

  I snatched a muffin from the breadbox and, grabbing my coat and backpack, headed out the door.

  “Megan,” Dad called as I reached the doorway.

  “Yeah,” I said, my back to him as I waited at the door.

  The moment hung heavy in the room. After a second more, he sighed.

  “Don’t be late; Cosmo needs his food a bit earlier these colder months, and it’s about time to take out an extra blanket for him.”

  “I know, Dad. I’ll do it.” My shoulders slouched as I exited. As if I didn’t know how to care for my own horse.

  After a quick visit to the barn, I sat in my car and replayed the morning scene in my head. At least he’s trying, my inner voice pleaded. Would it have made a difference if I’d made the first move and hugged him good morning, said goodbye? Would it have mattered at all?

  Thin wisps of fire lapped at my cheeks, though the temperature in my car was near freezing. I pulled a tissue out of my bag and dabbed my eyes. No matter how we tried, we never quite…worked.

  I blew my nose and rested my head back on the seat, desperate to regain my composure. My gaze meandered across our property and landed on the fire pit, old and unused since Mom passed. Now it sat and collected rain and snow and whatever else happened to fall in it. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts travel back to happier times.

  “Mom!” I had yelled as I ran to our campsite.

  Dad had trailed behind me, a bucket of fish in his right hand, our poles in his left.

  “Look! Dad and I caught dinner, a whole bunch of it, too! Now it’s time for swimming!”

  “Just a minute there, Meggo,” she’d replied. “They’re not quite ready to be cooked yet.”

  She had taken the bucket from Dad and placed it on the ground. I peered into it, our catch for the day piled inside, and scrunched up my nose as I came to the understanding that our bounty still needed to be cleaned.

  She laughed and beckoned me closer.

  “How about if, just this one time, I take care of these little guys and you two go change into your swimsuits and head out to the river?” she whispered.

  I looked from her to Dad.

  “Can we, Dad?” I pleaded.

  He had laughed and scooped me up in his arms.

  “This sounds like our lucky day,” he’d said as he twirled me around.

  “Don’t stumble into any trouble, and be back in time to help with dinner, you two,” she said as my feet found the ground again.

  Dad leaned toward her and gave her a kiss, wrapping his arms entirely around her body.

  “You’re too good to us,” he said. They stood still a moment, looking into each other’s eyes. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.” He had placed another soft kiss on her lips before turning to me. “Come on, kiddo; let’s change into our suits.”

  With a swift movement, he had scooped me up and carried me away to the tents.

  I opened my eyes and took a deep breath as the memory faded. It used to be easier…Dad and me. Everything was just so hard now. The thought rattled around in my head like a pinball.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I told myself as I shot a glance in the rearview mirror, bringing myself back to the present. I dried my eyes once more with the wadded-up tissue and tossed it to the car floor.

  A small movement in the brush behind our house caught my attention. Amadeo? My eyes widened, then relaxed as a tiny fawn wobbled out along the edge of the tree line and poked around the yard by the barn, moving awkwardly on its long, gangly legs. I gasped when it slipped and stumbled and a larger deer with a smooth caramel coat emerged from the trees to steady it. My heart pounded as the mother encouraged her little one a few more steps forward before leading it back into the brush.

  A sharp laugh stung my chest. “Yeah, just don’t get too used to her, buddy.”

  I adjusted my rearview mirror and swallowed the bitterness creeping up my throat. I turned the key and let the car run for a while to warm up before taking a deep breath and heading down the drive, leaving the fawn and its mother well behind in the distance.

  Chapter Seven

  “Okay, class, does anyone have any questions?”

  Silence.

  “Let me remind you that once the time begins, there will be no assistance from me. This is your final, so you’re on your own. You will either take the heat, or—” Ms. O’Dowd made a dramatic pause and swept her hand across the class, indicating for us to finish the sentence.

  “Get out of the kitchen.” The words were mumbled and groaned throughout the classroom. It was her favorite saying, and one she grossly overused.

  Satisfied with our feeble response, she walked over to the big analog clock on her desk and set the timer.

  “You have two hours to complete your three-course meal. I hope you’re all ready. Remember, you will be graded on the preparation of your recipe cards, organization of time, food presentation, and taste. And, of course, forty percent of the grade will be on how well you work with your partner. Good luck! You may begin…now.”

  “Great,” I mumbled under my breath as I scanned the classroom. Everyone had already started, each pair bustling about their test kitchens. I’d overheard Stacey and Kyle talking about their presentation in homeroom a few days ago: an Italian feast complete with an antipasto, gnocchi, and a tiramisu for dessert. I remembered their arrogance as they discussed it, quite loudly I might add, over the announcements.

  “Do you think Ms. O’Dowd will give extra credit for our homemade almond extract? I think it’ll really set us apart,” Stacey had said as she turned around in her seat.

  “You bet, babe.”

  “I’m so glad your grandmother gave us her
recipe.”

  “Totally.”

  My gaze shot over to their kitchen. Kiss ups. I mean, give me a break. It was a high school home economics class, not Master Chef. Still, despite their conversation lacking in verbs and nouns…or words, for that matter, I couldn’t help but be a little envious of how well they appeared to be working together. Though I suppose it should’ve been expected, considering they’d been dating since freshman year. But my envy didn’t end with them. In fact, as I scanned the class, I noticed every kitchen appeared to be made up of mostly compatible, functioning pairs.

  But me?

  Well, I stood alone in my quiet kitchen among the tumbleweeds that blew across the yellow Formica counter like a dusty, old-timey ghost town. My vision turned green as I skimmed the classroom once more.

  Where the hell was Jay? It figured he’d blown me off. One final slap in the face. It just reeked of something he’d do. My stomach turned. It wasn’t until I stood there alone that I truly understood how much I’d wanted him to show up—not to be the person everyone thought he was. To be an example that yes, sometimes people do surprise you. What a pipedream. I don’t know why I expected anything different. I’d known the moment I picked his name from the golden colander that our partnership was doomed. He’d done nothing to make me believe otherwise. I should’ve been ready for this.

  But I wasn’t. It was stupid. I was stupid. Because when it came down to it, I’d hoped he wouldn’t let me down. Almost believed he’d prove everyone wrong, that this time, somehow, it would be different…with me.

  Time ticked away, and I prayed he’d show. There was still time.

  As the minutes passed, my heart deflated like a sad balloon. Sometimes, there was no getting around the truth; redemption was a lie. Everyone was exactly who they appeared to be. And everyone knew what Jay was like.

  It was impossible not to. He was the most popular guy at Mountain Valley High School. And before that, middle school. He was that one kid everyone liked, who was good at every sport, got straight A’s, and would most likely go to any university he wanted, on scholarship, even though we all knew his father could afford tuition pretty much anywhere. He was the type who thought he was God’s gift to all high school girls, harboring a confidence the size of Mount Rushmore.

  Except the confidence was actually massive ego, and with it came the fact that he expected everyone to do the hard work for him, while he steeped in the glory. I should know. That was the one thing about small towns that really got me—you knew everyone to a fault. I was there in seventh grade when he got himself excused from the algebra final and got to take it home instead. I witnessed Sarah Hernandez complete his music final during the ninth grade. And I nearly vomited when he successfully argued his way out of a detention due to excessive tardies in the office earlier this year. It was evident that he could do no wrong, and he knew it. And, like all high school figureheads, he was as deep as a puddle after a light drizzle in June.

  A puddle I wouldn’t mind jumping into.

  I blinked my eyes hard. What was wrong with me? It must be stress.

  Yes, the stress of potentially failing home economics, coupled with the intense fear that all my hard work would slip into oblivion, was definitely messing with me. I stood in my kitchen, my mind desperately trying to come up with an excuse I could use when Ms. O’Dowd asked that inevitable question.

  “Where the hell is he?” I muttered to myself as I finally took action, aggressively knotting my apron around my waist, my frustration rising as I struggled with the overly long ties. It wasn’t my choice to put on the ratty old piece of cloth, but it was one of Ms. O’Dowd’s non-negotiable rules.

  A proper chef must always look the part.

  Would a proper chef put on an apron four sizes too wide with a stuffed animal bear print before or after they got hired at Nobu? I slowly blinked to steady myself. Somehow, putting on the ridiculous apron made everything more painful. As if that were possible.

  I rummaged around the cabinets, taking out the dry ingredients and placing them on the counter. There was no point in waiting for him any longer. Waiting would put us further behind schedule. When it came to choosing the menu and planning the presentation, he’d passed the decisions off on me anyway, so all I needed to do was clear my head and get to it. Annoyance ran like red ticker tape through my brain at how casually he unloaded the work onto me.

  Ladies’ choice, Meggo.

  Wanting to push through the assignment, I’d made the choice by myself. We, I mean I, had chosen to keep it simple and stick to fail-safe classics: Waldorf salad, roasted chicken with asparagus, and a berry tart for dessert.

  I wasn’t really surprised when he told me just to pick whatever, so I decided on low risk, nothing fancy. Our meal was the best possible bet for this assignment. It was simple enough even he could do the little I’d need him to do in order to pass. I probably could have made it with my eyes closed, but Ms. O’Dowd didn’t need to know the details.

  The meal would be a no-brainer if he managed to show up. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I could prepare everything myself in the time given. I roughly opened the drawers and removed the utensils I’d need. By the time I reached the refrigerator, I was seething. Not only was he willing to let me do all the work while he coasted along, but he knew my grade was toast without him. And how could he blow off his own grade?

  I tried to calm myself. A few deep breaths and a reminder that I needed to complete this assignment lowered my blood pressure just enough. I couldn’t risk anything lower than a B-. Maybe Ms. O’Dowd would take pity on me and I’d scrape by solo. Ugh.

  I wouldn’t even be in this position if he were here.

  My gaze darted to the door every twenty seconds.

  C’mon, Jay.

  As I huffed about the workspace, my anger rose again. This wasn’t some fluke. It was a pattern. Jay was untrustworthy. He’d never been available outside of school, despite his promises, leaving everything—including all the grocery shopping—up to me. Thank God we were given the cash from our course materials fee; I couldn’t imagine him ponying up his half of our food bill. I shook my head in disgust as I remembered how he trivialized all my offers to meet up.

  “Just text me; I’ll text you back,” he had said.

  Really?

  “‘Just text me,’” I mocked. He’d probably spent that time watching sports, or wait, working out. I touched my pocket where I kept my phone and debated texting his cell before pulling my hand back.

  No, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I wasn’t like those girls who chased and drooled over him. I pulled a knife from the butcher block and placed it on the wooden cutting board to the left of the sink so I could wash my hands. As lather erupted between my fingers, I grunted.

  Please don’t screw me over.

  I shifted my gaze back to the door and shook my head. What was so important he couldn’t even be bothered to text? He’d promised he’d be here.

  I roughly shut off the water and whipped the hand towel from its hook when it hit me. He was probably only taking this class to make his applications look more diverse. He didn’t really need the grade.

  He was probably so wrapped up in himself, he didn’t even consider me at all. He’d probably never paid one bit of attention to anything I said. He had no idea this was the last elective I needed. He had no clue what I had riding on this. I’d already conditionally registered for classes. I just needed my grades to post. This grade. If I didn’t officially earn my diploma, I’d have to wait until the summer to start, and that was an entire semester away. He had no idea how important this was for me.

  “Where the hell are you?” I huffed, this time out loud.

  “Right here, of course.”

  I held my breath and spun around to face Amadeo.

  “What are you doing here?” I hissed. “You can’t be here.”

  “Goodness, is this how you greet all your friends? I know manners seem to be an ancient concept, but a hello would b
e nice.”

  My gaze darted around the class. Had anyone seen him yet?

  “Relax,” Amadeo said coolly as he hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter. “No one can see me; I’m shielded. You’re the only one who can see me right now.”

  “Really?”

  “Would you like a demonstration?”

  Before I could argue, he popped out of sight. My breath caught in my chest as my eyes searched the classroom.

  “Amadeo? Amadeo!” I hotly whispered. “Cut the crap. Where the hell are you?”

  “Excuse me?” A sharp voice cut through my words.

  Ms. O’Dowd stood at the entrance of the kitchenette. My eyes nearly jumped out of my head, and every muscle in my body tensed.

  “Nothing,” I gasped in a tight voice. She pursed her lips and gave me a harsh side-eye.

  “Ms. Cooper,” she said in her scary teacher voice, “you wouldn’t happen to know where Mr. Michaels is, would you?” She lowered her glasses as she leaned into my little kitchen. The sharp angular arch of her right eyebrow lifted. Had the kitchen gotten smaller? I tugged at the apron strap around my neck as she jotted down notes on her clipboard.

  Uh-oh. Not a good sign.

  “Um, Jay? Oh, yeah, of course, I mean, yes, he’s…um…” I stumbled. Who cared about Jay? I had bigger problems to attend to. Like where the heck that mischievous little cupid disappeared to. I tried to focus on answering her question, but words escaped me.

  “Yes, Ms. Cooper?” Her voice rose an octave as she waited for my response, clearly enjoying my squirming.

  “He’s right here, Ms. O,” Jay said as he smoothly slid around the full-figured woman and into the kitchen next to me. He leaned up against the countertop, his elbows propped behind him. “I was just with Principal Higgins. He apologizes for my tardiness and hopes you’ll forgive his oversight.”

  Ms. O’Dowd’s cheeks grew red at the mention of Principal Higgins. Smooth. It was no small secret the woman adored him. Her cheeks always grew a deep shade of pink whenever his name passed anyone’s lips.