A Little Something Different (19 page)

Oh, you better not be talking about me. I’m about to leap out of my seat and show Inga who’s boss when a quiet voice says, “Sounds kinda cool.”

Gabe’s cute expression helps tamp down my anger. Until I remember that he’s a complete dorkface and I can’t stand him. Why is my life so complicated?

“Good,” Inga says. “And everyone is going to have to read theirs in class. It’s going to be twenty percent of your final. The other eighty percent will still be your series of story prompts as previously discussed.”

Gabe audibly gulps. What did I ever see in him?

“I promise it’ll be okay,” Inga says, looking right at him. What the hell? Why is she such a weirdo perv?

I’m so glad this year is almost over.

Charlotte
(a barista)

It’s so busy I don’t even notice her until she’s right in front of me, picking up her beverage.

“Hey,” I say.

“Oh, hey.”

She seems bummed. I want to at least ask if she’s okay but the line is out of control and the steam wand is making pterodactyl noises. It’s not exactly a great moment for chitchat.

She takes her iced grande caramel macchiato and sits at the closest table, staring out the window. I have to wonder if she’s trying to will Gabe into the store using only the powers of her mind. I watch her out of the corner of my eye until my hour on drink duty is up. She has a little pink notebook out and she’s scribbling away.

Of course she has a little pink notebook.

I’m shocked it’s not covered in faux fur or something.

I meander toward her under the guise of wiping down tables. She looks over at me, and smiles, tight-lipped, and it doesn’t reach her eyes.

One of her friends literally sashays through the door then.

“Lea my love,” he says, and she looks up from her notebook. “How are things?”

“Hey, Danny. Things have been better,” she says.

“Tell me your troubles,” he says.

I eavesdrop on them as I wipe down the tables better than they have ever been wiped down in the history of Starbucks. But when she gets to the part where she told Gabe she needed more time, I can’t contain myself one more second.

“You did what?” I ask, stepping right up to the table.

“We were drunk,” she says, looking up at me, shaking her head. “It was bad timing. Everything felt wrong.”

“He’s like pretty much in love with you, you know,” I say.

“What?”

“He never stops looking at you, when you’re here together. I’ve heard him ask people about you when you’re not around. I’ve heard him talking about you.”

“She’s totally right,” Danny says.

“I messed up,” Lea says.

“Listen,” I say, sighing and taking the seat across from her, hoping my manager doesn’t notice. “I thought he was a complete asshole. Like a total flake and not really worth anyone’s time. But over the past few months, he’s changed my mind. We love watching you guys.”

“We?”

“Um, basically everyone who works here, but in particular Tabitha and Keith.”

That makes her smile for real this time.

“So, I guess I’m saying give it another shot. It can’t hurt.”

“I agree,” Danny says.

“Okay,” she says. “I think I have a plan.”

Victor
(creative writing classmate)

I hear Gabe before I see him. I mean, I have no idea when I hear the movement that it’s going to be Gabe, because had I known it was Gabe I would have run quietly in the other direction. He’s shelving books in the library and I need a book from the exact place he’s working. There’s no way around this confrontation.

When he sees me, I get the distinct feeling he’s more afraid of me than I am of him.

“Hey, man,” I say.

He grunts a response and barely glances at me.

“Did you and your girl work everything out the other night?”

He scoffs.

“I guess not.”

“Why would you care?” he asks, his voice quiet and steady.

“I feel like a shit about it. I should have walked away. Instead I got involved and somehow I made things worse. And I’m sorry.”

He rolls his eyes and moves down to the next section.

“I’m serious.”

“Cool,” he says, his voice sort of pinched now, uncomfortable.

“And I’m sorry about what I said on the last day of creative writing last semester. I guess I thought maybe you would use it as a push in the right direction. It’s so obvious that she likes you, bro.”

“Ha.”

“No, I’m serious.”

“Yeah, right. Why am I supposed to believe you?”

“Because for some reason I keep getting stuck inside your little … moments. I was there at midnight breakfast, and at that show in January, and the other night. Not to mention all those classes last semester.”

He turns to look at me. Apparently now I have his attention.

“And you two assholes are the most annoyingly cute thing I’ve ever seen. I’m annoyed at myself for even using the word ‘cute.’ I feel sick to my stomach over using that word.”

That makes him chuckle.

“I have no clue why I’m getting involved, and at this point you would have every right to punch me in the face, but I guess before you do that, you should know that I might hate you guys, but you obviously don’t hate each other.”

“Well, after you left the other night, she got on the bus and I was there. She asked me to give her some time. So I’m giving her some time.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have walked away in the first place.”

“Did she say anything? While you guys were walking?”

“I hope you realize how deep my self-loathing goes that I’m even involved with this, but after you left I walked with her to the bus. And she talked about you the whole time. It wasn’t always nice stuff, because she was pissed off, but it was like she couldn’t stop. She made me promise not to tell anyone what she said, and I don’t remember the specifics, but I feel pretty confident in telling you that she never told me not to tell you she said it. Just not to tell anyone
what
she said.”

He narrows his eyes at me and I can see him mouthing the last words I said. “I think I’m keeping up with you here.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to get kneed in the balls over this. I wouldn’t put it past her to do something like that.”

He smiles for real this time. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but thanks, Victor.”

“I would totally be lying if I said ‘anytime.’” I leave then before this becomes any more like a scene in a Lifetime movie.

Pam
(Inga’s wife)

“Aw, sweetheart, you look awful,” I say to Inga as I come in Tuesday night after work.

“Thanks,” she says, sniffling and blowing her nose.

“Well, you do look awful. And you sound worse. And I like to think that honesty is a key aspect of our relationship. The cornerstone even.”

“Please stop babbling and make me some soup,” she says, her voice sadder than her face.

“Of course.”

Once the soup has been made and she’s ensconced on the couch with more blankets and pillows, I take a seat in the armchair across from her. The blankets basically act as a force field, so there’s no use trying to sit next to her on the couch.

“Ugh. I thought this was allergies and it definitely isn’t.”

“You should probably cancel class tomorrow.”

“No!”

“Okay…”

“I have to go. I gave the assignment.”

“Which assignment is that?”

“The describe someone without adjectives assignment.”

“Oh, the big one.”

“It was time. I needed to give them one last opportunity.” She pauses to blow her nose. “‘Opportunity’ is a hard word to say when you have a cold.”

“I know, baby,” I say sympathetically, even though I don’t have personal experience with that issue.

“Anyway. If this doesn’t work, at least I know I tried everything.”

“You have. You have gone above and beyond what any sane person would ever, or should ever, do for a pair of random students in their creative writing class.”

“Stop trying to make me feel ashamed for believing in the power of love.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel ashamed! I’m trying to make you realize that there’s nothing else you can do.”

“I could have run a contest in class.” Her eyes glaze over as her imagination runs wild. “And made them work in pairs, and then the prize would have been dinner at a restaurant.”

I look at her doubtfully. “Wasn’t that basically the plot of an episode of
Glee
?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t remember, I’ve taken too much cold medicine.”

“I’ll make you some tea. That should help with the memory loss.”

“Thank you!” she calls from the couch.

When I go back in barely three minutes later, she’s passed out, drooling on the couch.

Maribel
(Lea’s roommate)

“Maribel?” Lea’s voice whispers from across the room.

I don’t respond.

“Maribel,” she says again, this time louder.

I squeeze my eyes tightly closed and barely even breathe.

“Maribel, maybe I should have written about my dad, or my grandma, or one of the Starbucks baristas.”

I think I might pass out from lack of oxygen when she throws a pillow at me.

“I know you’re awake.”

“Fine,” I say, tossing it back and rolling onto my side. “But why are we discussing this again? You know where I stand on it.”

“What if it’s terrible? What if he doesn’t appreciate it? What if he’s too mad to care? What if he’s decided to give up on me? What if I puke before I even have time to read it?”

“Lea. You are a wonderful person. He would be lucky to have you. But no one is forcing you to write this essay about him. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” I tell her.

She’s about to speak, but I cut her off, because I know what she’s going to say.

“You need to stop obsessing.”

“If it was that easy, believe me, I would have.”

“I want to believe you, but it’s four a.m., and we’ve had this same conversation at least a dozen times in the past two days. Now go to sleep so you can look perfect and wonderful tomorrow when you read to Gabe.”

“All right. G’night.”

“G’night.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes.

“But what am I going to wear?” she wails into the darkness.

Sam
(Gabe’s brother)

Gabe is sitting on a bench looking confused and lost. This is not an unusual look for him. He’s always sort of been that guy.

“Hey, why did you want to meet?” I ask.

“I need your advice.”

“Of course you do,” I say, sitting down on the bench. “You just need your big brother sometimes. I totally get it.”

“Can you read this?” he asks, handing me a sheet of paper and totally ignoring my big-brother comment.

“Um, sure.” I glance it over. It’s super short.

He looks at me expectantly.

“This is about Lea?”

He nods.

“It’s good.”

“Just good?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, what’s it for? Are you going to randomly hand it to her?”

“No, I’m going to read it, in class today.”

“Wow,” I say. And I mean it. I read the two paragraphs over again.

“Is that too embarrassing?”

“It could be, potentially, but if she likes you even a little bit, this will totally win her over.” I shake my head and read it again. “I feel like you reading it is … kind of amazing, actually.”

“I’m terrified.”

“It’s big. It’s bold. I would be shocked if you weren’t.”

“If I die of embarrassment or terror, tell Mom I love her.”

He stands up to leave.

“Good luck,” I say, seriously.

“Thanks.”

Inga
(creative writing professor)

I feel about as nervous as Gabe looks, which gives me hope that he took the bait. I know he did as soon as I call the class to order and he raises his hand.

“Gabe?”

“Can I go first?”

“Sure! I appreciate your enthusiasm.”

He smiles weakly and takes a deep breath. He walks to the front of the class and I take a desk at the side. He’s gotten better at sharing this semester. He’s not the same kid he was when he stood up there back in the fall.

“All right, so.” He clears his throat and looks at me, though I’m not sure if the look is “help me” or “this is a bad idea.” “This is exactly a hundred words.”

“Great. Whenever you’re ready,” I say.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a second and chews his lip, before opening them wide and zeroing in on Lea.

Every time I see her, I’m always surprised. She keeps me on my toes. She smiles when I need her to, even though she could never know that I needed her to. I like the way she looks when she’s thinking. I like the way she looks at me when I’m thinking.

She talks to squirrels like they’re her friends. I think that says a lot about a person, the way they treat animals. It tells you how they’ll treat you when you’re not saying a word. That they’ll talk to you even if you don’t say much in return.

It’s over so fast I barely have time to notice whether or not he’s using adjectives and quite frankly it doesn’t really matter. He’s so earnest with his feelings that there’s no way I could ever give him less than an A. And he did do a good job describing Lea.

I turn to look at her and she is, of course, sitting there red faced and smiling, squirming slightly in her seat. He doesn’t look at her, just drops his printout on my desk and takes his seat in the back.

“Thanks, Gabe,” I say. He nods and looks like he’s in the throes of panic.

“So, who would like to follow up that great example?”

“Isn’t ‘surprised’ an adjective?” Hillary says.

“Shut up, Hillary,” Lea mutters, taking the words out of my mouth. “I’ll go next.”

Hillary sits there, stunned and silent, mouth hanging open as Lea gets up to read.

“Not to be outdone by Gabe,” she says, catching his attention, “here’s my description, also exactly a hundred words.”

“Excellent.” I make a “go ahead” gesture. I can still feel Hillary fuming somewhere behind me, but I give Lea my full attention.

He stands like he doesn’t want anyone to look at him. I look anyway because I want to, because his posture forces me to. If he didn’t want me to look, he’d have to stop existing altogether. Because I never know when he might look back. I want to make sure I’m prepared.