Lucky Lemon #3
Sunday nights were the best. After a long weekend, people spent the night at home, so the shop was always relatively empty. She was free to dance about and do as she pleased. A barista at a locally owned coffee shop, she had a true passion for her work. There was something beautiful about a perfectly pulled espresso that made her smile. It was Sunday night and she was in a good mood.
He had missed her. Without her in his arms, life had been hard. He’d left her for all the wrong reasons and had stayed away because of worse ones. Lonely on his first night off in a while, he decided to go driving. An old pastime, he cruised around town in his rickety, rusty little car. He had the windows rolled down thanks to a lack of air conditioner, and the breeze flew through blond hair in desperate need of a haircut. Picky with his taste in music, he’d change channels until he found a song he liked and then sang along. He knew he was tone-deaf, but she’d always encourage him, tell him he was doing better. He’d always loved that about her. He found a station playing Our Lady Peace and turned it up. He was in a good mood.
All the customers were gone and she changed the CDs in the five-disc changer to CDs of her own. She counted the money in the cash register, cleaned the espresso machine, and cleaned the tables, all the while dancing to her hastily compiled mix CDs. The outside light was dimming by the time she began washing the dishes. As she carefully washed the porcelain mugs, their song came over the speakers. Slow acoustic guitar and the sound of a saxophone create the entry for Edwin McCain’s raspy voice. Each word cut into her mind. Each built a picture of a night not too long before.
Laying on the cheap black futon underneath her lofted bed in her dorm room, it had happened. He took his freedom from her. They’d spent too much time together, not knowing how to be without one another, and it was time to be apart. He was pretty sure he loved her, but wasn’t quite. He wanted to explore life in college and not be tied down his last two years. She had to let him go. She laid on the futon and he held her as she cried. Her fiery brown eyes stained with mascara, her face was lit in the glow of cheap Christmas lights. He hated making her cry. “It’s not forever. We can still be together, just not only us together. See other people. Try other things. You know.” He kissed her forehead lightly and squeezed her tight. She looked up at him, eyes still watery, hungry for an answer in his face.
He kissed her. She sank into him, dissolved into the love overcoming her spirit. Opening her eyes, she knew he could see deep within her soul. So vulnerable, she closed her eyes and felt. Felt his fingers brush her face, his tongue sweetly part her lips, his body pressed against hers. She played with his hair and they rolled together. Sweet and beautiful, she began to cry as she fell in love all over again. She didn’t think he’d remember that night, so long ago, when he’d held her hand and sang to her. How tone-deaf he was and how it’d made her giggle inside when he’d tried to hit the high notes. How when she’d gotten home, she’d had to lean against the door after she’d shut it behind her to catch her balance. It came flooding back with more tears. “Please don’t cry.”
“It’s okay. They’re not bad, I promise.”
Hands drifted, familiar in their paths as their bodies entwined. He kissed her deeply and passionately and then stared deeply in her eyes. How could he express to her how much he was hurting, too? Lost in a sea of feeling and expectation, he’d done the only thing he’d known how. So scared, he was so scared that he’d never see her dimples, hear her whisper childish French phrases, or just simply hold her again. She was beautiful in this moment, even with the tears, so open and honest. Never had he been loved so completely. She’d trusted him in everything from what movie to watch to his reckless driving. He always drove, even though they lived so far apart. His favorite times were driving her back to her car at Starbucks. The only person he knew to get off work to go to another similar establishment. He even loved how much she loved coffee. Here, in this moment, he was one with her. Looking into her eyes once more, she began to whisper, “The strands in your eyes”. She was singing.
There, below the cheap lights in her dorm room, they moved quietly together. Singing along to a song in their heads they were lost in one another. Gasping between verses and crying out at others, they’d never felt so alive, so in love. As the song reached the bridge, they came together. Not knowing what to do next, they stayed melded and clinging to one another.
A tear fell into the soapy water filled with dishes. It had been so long since she’d thought of that moment, let alone relived and embraced it. The one tear turned into many and as she began to fall onto the sink, two arms reached from behind and caught her.
There was nowhere to drive without being alone. Past the old Starbucks where they’d shared many drinks and his old high school track where she’d told him so many of her dreams, every turn filled with images of her. Restaurants where they’d eaten, bars where they’d had more than a few, each piled onto the one before it. Not knowing where to go, he pulled into the parking lot and stared into the windows. Sunday night, her favorite. There she was, hair thrown back into a makeshift bun, dancing and flailing her arms. Her dancing not much better than his singing. He laughed as she seemed so free and he missed being free with her. He got out of the car when she stopped and began the last task of the evening. She always forgot to lock the door on Sundays, too distracted by her fun.
She whirled in his arms. “What are you do—“
“I missed you. That simple.”
“I told you you would. Never listened, never will. One of these days you’re just gonna have to admit I’m right.” She smiled cheekily, praying he wouldn’t notice the tear in her eye.
He smiled. Still as much of a smart ass as ever. For the first time in ages, he nabbed her into his arms and kissed her. A little rough, a bit playful, and filled with love, he pulled away. “That’s as good as you’re gonna get. You done yet? Aw, hurry up and let’s get outta here.”
He had missed her. Without her in his arms, life had been hard. He’d left her for all the wrong reasons and had stayed away because of worse ones. Lonely on his first night off in a while, he decided to go driving. An old pastime, he cruised around town in his rickety, rusty little car. He had the windows rolled down thanks to a lack of air conditioner, and the breeze flew through blond hair in desperate need of a haircut. Picky with his taste in music, he’d change channels until he found a song he liked and then sang along. He knew he was tone-deaf, but she’d always encourage him, tell him he was doing better. He’d always loved that about her. He found a station playing Our Lady Peace and turned it up. He was in a good mood.
All the customers were gone and she changed the CDs in the five-disc changer to CDs of her own. She counted the money in the cash register, cleaned the espresso machine, and cleaned the tables, all the while dancing to her hastily compiled mix CDs. The outside light was dimming by the time she began washing the dishes. As she carefully washed the porcelain mugs, their song came over the speakers. Slow acoustic guitar and the sound of a saxophone create the entry for Edwin McCain’s raspy voice. Each word cut into her mind. Each built a picture of a night not too long before.
Laying on the cheap black futon underneath her lofted bed in her dorm room, it had happened. He took his freedom from her. They’d spent too much time together, not knowing how to be without one another, and it was time to be apart. He was pretty sure he loved her, but wasn’t quite. He wanted to explore life in college and not be tied down his last two years. She had to let him go. She laid on the futon and he held her as she cried. Her fiery brown eyes stained with mascara, her face was lit in the glow of cheap Christmas lights. He hated making her cry. “It’s not forever. We can still be together, just not only us together. See other people. Try other things. You know.” He kissed her forehead lightly and squeezed her tight. She looked up at him, eyes still watery, hungry for an answer in his face.
He kissed her. She sank into him, dissolved into the love overcoming her spirit. Opening her eyes, she knew he could see deep within her soul. So vulnerable, she closed her eyes and felt. Felt his fingers brush her face, his tongue sweetly part her lips, his body pressed against hers. She played with his hair and they rolled together. Sweet and beautiful, she began to cry as she fell in love all over again. She didn’t think he’d remember that night, so long ago, when he’d held her hand and sang to her. How tone-deaf he was and how it’d made her giggle inside when he’d tried to hit the high notes. How when she’d gotten home, she’d had to lean against the door after she’d shut it behind her to catch her balance. It came flooding back with more tears. “Please don’t cry.”
“It’s okay. They’re not bad, I promise.”
Hands drifted, familiar in their paths as their bodies entwined. He kissed her deeply and passionately and then stared deeply in her eyes. How could he express to her how much he was hurting, too? Lost in a sea of feeling and expectation, he’d done the only thing he’d known how. So scared, he was so scared that he’d never see her dimples, hear her whisper childish French phrases, or just simply hold her again. She was beautiful in this moment, even with the tears, so open and honest. Never had he been loved so completely. She’d trusted him in everything from what movie to watch to his reckless driving. He always drove, even though they lived so far apart. His favorite times were driving her back to her car at Starbucks. The only person he knew to get off work to go to another similar establishment. He even loved how much she loved coffee. Here, in this moment, he was one with her. Looking into her eyes once more, she began to whisper, “The strands in your eyes”. She was singing.
There, below the cheap lights in her dorm room, they moved quietly together. Singing along to a song in their heads they were lost in one another. Gasping between verses and crying out at others, they’d never felt so alive, so in love. As the song reached the bridge, they came together. Not knowing what to do next, they stayed melded and clinging to one another.
A tear fell into the soapy water filled with dishes. It had been so long since she’d thought of that moment, let alone relived and embraced it. The one tear turned into many and as she began to fall onto the sink, two arms reached from behind and caught her.
There was nowhere to drive without being alone. Past the old Starbucks where they’d shared many drinks and his old high school track where she’d told him so many of her dreams, every turn filled with images of her. Restaurants where they’d eaten, bars where they’d had more than a few, each piled onto the one before it. Not knowing where to go, he pulled into the parking lot and stared into the windows. Sunday night, her favorite. There she was, hair thrown back into a makeshift bun, dancing and flailing her arms. Her dancing not much better than his singing. He laughed as she seemed so free and he missed being free with her. He got out of the car when she stopped and began the last task of the evening. She always forgot to lock the door on Sundays, too distracted by her fun.
She whirled in his arms. “What are you do—“
“I missed you. That simple.”
“I told you you would. Never listened, never will. One of these days you’re just gonna have to admit I’m right.” She smiled cheekily, praying he wouldn’t notice the tear in her eye.
He smiled. Still as much of a smart ass as ever. For the first time in ages, he nabbed her into his arms and kissed her. A little rough, a bit playful, and filled with love, he pulled away. “That’s as good as you’re gonna get. You done yet? Aw, hurry up and let’s get outta here.”
posted by Anonymous at 10:16 PM
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