Chapter 4: It's a date.

It may have just been a one night stand to him, but to me it was a lifetime of memories.

       It had been almost two months since that fateful day and life was moving progressively, nothing but the clock upon the wall to tell me what time is was. It was moving all too fast.  I became an honorary partner in Carissa’s and Ryan’s art agency and spent most of my days filing paperwork and calling clients. I wasn’t paid and yet, I never felt that I should be. I had a home and running water and all of these put into perspective, made me realize how fortunate life had made me. And I guess…I was just happy knowing that.
      “My butterflies are wonderful, aren’t they?” Carissa asked apprehensively, as she stormed into the kitchen. Startled, I dropped the dish I was cleaning. Not one to waste any time, I shot down to the floor and began to pick up the shattered plate.
      “Of course,” I replied, coming off as preoccupied.
      “I have no talent. I can only come up with ugly bugs,“ she cried out, slumping against the counter. Standing up, I set the pieces next to the sink.
      “They aren’t ugly,” I argued.
      “Says the girl who has not one mean bone in her body,” she mimicked, playing with the broken ceramic.
      “Carissa, what  brought this on?”
      “I got a call today, from that Chelsea lady, the one who owns the piercing shop on 26 Avenue. Supposedly, my butterflies look like pieces of s**t and are scaring away her customers.”
      “That’s bull,” I said, wiping my hands. “You have a talent. Obviously, this Chelsea lady doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
      “She might not but she’s threatening to tell everyone she knows that our business is a con. You know what that will do to us?” she cried.
      “Put us in the slum hole,” Ryan interjected, gliding in, an apple in his hand. I gulped nervously. And although time had been gracious, the moments spent with Ryan had gone exceptionally slow.
      “Bingo,” Carissa grumbled.
      “Well, we’ll just have to fix that,” he replied bluntly, taking no notice of the tiny shards of plate scattered all over the floor.
      “Ryan, this woman is crazy. Giving her a refund is out of the question.”
      “Who said anything about refunds. I had other things in mind.”
      I stared at him blankly, the sexual innuendo sinking in. Carissa just laughed half-assed.
      “You do that Ryan, and I’ll have you penis chopped off.”
      “I think a free paint job would put her at ease,” I recommended quietly. Both Carissa and Ryan eyes darted to me.
      “What do you have in mind?” She asked me.
      “We could just paint over the butterfly, that’s all. Do something neutral.”
      “That could work,” Ryan agreed, pulling out a piece of paper. Carissa walked over to him, her mouth drawn in a tight line. The work day had just began.
      Slipping silently out of the kitchen, I set off for the market. Time eventually healed my wounds, and the once fear of being alone was now over come with the want of being alone.  
      With a shopping list in hand, I began the hunt, walking around the outside market slowly. Most probable, was that Ryan and Carissa were hutched over the table, discussing plans and the last thing they needed was me to disturb them. And so, I took my time, filled my basket and proceeded to  pay for my belongings, when all of a sudden, I found myself flattened out on the ground. Dazed, I sat up and rubbed my head. A young male squatted before me.
      “Oh my god! I am so sorry! I didn’t even see you there!” he exclaimed, quickly picking up my dropped groceries.
      “No, it’s okay,” I said, noticing eyes watching us.
      “I should have been watching where I was going,” he apologized, holding out his hand. I looked him over. He was a man about 24 or 25 and had curly blond hair, small lips and a firm face His eyes were of a grayish color and as he stood there, his complexion seemed rosy. He squinted as I denied his offering. Standing up on my own, I smiled sweetly, not wanting to offend him.
      “I’m Ethan,” he greeted, still holding onto my bags. Now, the crowd began to move at it’s usual pace.
      “Sam,” I replied, motioning for him to hand me my bags. Instead, he began to walk ahead of me, calling back:
      “Where do you live? The least I can do is carry your groceries.”
      “That won’t be necessary!” I rushed over to him. “I really don’t need help.”
      “Well, it’s my conscience. And it’s no problem at all! Really! I want to help,” he argued, holding onto the bags tighter. Realizing everything else was futile, I lead the way.
      
      
      “I’ve always wanted to be a painter,” he exclaimed, as I told him of my job. “As a child, I use to sit out in my mother’s garden and mimic the flowers and such.”
      “I was kind of sucked into it.”
      “What do you mean?” he asked, puzzled.
      “I do it so I have a place to sleep.”
      “Like rent?”
      “Exactly.”
      “I would love not to pay rent in exchange for that,” he laughed, shifting the bags to his other hip. I now had a clear view of his face.
      “So how long have you been at this job?” he questioned.
      “2 months.”
      “That’s not very long,” he noted, kicking a piece of road ahead of him.
      “No, it isn’t. I’m not planning on staying much longer, either.”
      “Why?”
      “Listen, thank you for carrying my groceries but I really don’t know you enough to tell you these things.”
      “Then let me take you out on a date,” he smiled, triumphant. I did a double take.
      Shocked, I stumbled to tell him no.
      “Okay, so I agree it’s a little weird of me to ask you out on a date, but you sound interesting and I love to be entertained.”
      I was about to reply when we arrived at the apartment.
      “Well, here we are.” Ethan handed me the groceries and proceeded to walk away.
      “I’ll pick you up around 7!” he called back. Then he disappeared around the block. I stood there, dumbfounded.
      
      
      As I walked in, Carissa walked out. A quick hello and then she was gone. I was greeted by Ryan.
      “Where is she going?” I asked, setting the groceries down.
      “To Chelsea’s Piercing Shop. You idea worked and Chelsea agreed to it.” He beamed me a smile. I smiled back, awkwardly.
      “So, from the looks of it, I guess you went out and got the groceries.” he said, helping me unload.
      “Yeah.”
      With nothing more to say, we began to  silently put away the food, until Ryan held out a dented squish.
      “How’d this happen?” he asked.
      “Oh! Someone ran into me,” I replied, ignoring his stare.
      “Someone ran into you?”
      “Yeah, and  he was nice enough to carry the groceries for me,” I laughed uneasily.
      “He?”
      “Yeah…his name was Ethan.”
      Ryan busied himself with the rest of the groceries. Too afraid I had said something to tick him off, I rushed upstairs. I hadn’t technically said yes to the date proposal but I also hadn’t said no. It was too late now. I needed to find something presentable.

Author's Note

Rough draft.