Spring crept in that Thursday, sweaters shed at lunchtime as tired office workers lingered in the park long after lunch hours ticked past. Paint peeled on the bench where she waited, marring the picturesque concept of the shaded oasis with scratched curse words and cigarette burns. She slid her fingers along the layers of paint and wondered how many people had waited here for things they shouldn’t want.
She had planned to ignore his text, to silence his call, to hide in the office she hated except for the heavy oak door that divided her from the rest of the world.
In thirty-one hours she’d be on a plane, back to the other place she buried her secrets, and waiting for him here made her feel like she was drowning in sand. Minutes away, the safety of a computer screen beckoned, the towering building casting a shadow on the far side of the park. But it was too late; she felt him walking towards her without turning her head, the air electric and warm between them. Months of lies smoothed her lips into an easy smile, and she hoped her sleek aviators hid her eyes as she fell into his.
“Thanks for meeting me. I know you’ve got a lot to do before tomorrow,” he apologized, sitting on the far side of the bench. The space between them echoed with expectation and uncertainty.
“This was never supposed to be a complication,” she admonished.
A gust of wind punctuated her practiced opening, shaking loose a shower of cherry blossoms from a nearby tree.
He smoothed petals from her hair and laughed. She watched his forearms flex as he opened the top of the crumpled bag he’d carried across the lawn and slid one of the to-go cups of coffee closer to her.
“Coffee’s not a complication,” he said.
“I have a feeling,” she started, “that coffee’s not the only thing you brought.”
“Nope,” he hesitated, and she heard the beginning of a confession in his tone. “There’s a bunch of candy in there, too.”
For the first time since she’d met him, she saw the hint of a lie throw a shadow over his face. In an instant it was gone, but she’d recognized it and drew strength from it instead of despair.
Complications were terrifying, but she knew all about handling secrets.
From an REM song and spring blossoms, courtesy of this week’s Write at the Merge prompt.
Baby, instant soup doesn’t really grab me today. Today I need something more substantial: a can of beans or black eyed peas, some Nescafe and ice, a candy bar, a falling star, or a reading from Dr. Seuss.
REM – “The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonight”
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I write this sitting in the kitchen sink. I know what you’re thinking. When Rhys and I drove into the city in May there was no way my tush would have fit in this tiny thing. I got tired of sticky rice and Ramen noodles sometime in June, and now that September’s around the corner,…
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