Page 65 of Searching for Beautiful
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“Gummy bear?” Christian asks as we drive down the freeway. Even though he’s been back for months and I’ve seen him eat a hundred bags of them, it still sounds so odd.
“Sure. ” I smile at him and wonder if it’s the first one I’ve given him since I’ve been in the car. It’s shame if it is. I made a vow this morning. As I remembered all those tears I shed with Brenda and how I let her hold me, I promised myself I wouldn’t ruin this day. That I’d have fun and nothing would change that. Not even Jason.
This day will be the best.
“How’d you find this place?” I ask as we drive.
“I’ve played there before. Went for coffee, saw the stage, and there you go. ”
“Are you playing today?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Nah. I wouldn’t want to do that to you. ”
“Do what?”
“I know you just want to be friends. We’re almost on a date. If I play for you in that kind of environment, you’ll have no choice but to fall for me. ”
“Ha! Whatever!” I smack his arm. What he doesn’t know is it would take less than that to make me fall for him.
The hour goes by quickly. We talk about classes, homework, parents, the upcoming dance at school. My heart trembles when that topic comes up because dances are so closely tied to Mom. How important they are to me, and embarrassingly, what is often expected after them. But the subject drops quickly and before I know it we’re pulling into the parking lot of a cute little coffeehouse. It looks like it belongs in Seattle or New York. Like a place that’s dark inside where people have poetry nights. I’ve never been somewhere like this. I feel jittery excitement at the thought of being here with Christian.
We head inside and I’m even more impressed. It’s not like the chain coffee shops you go into. The furniture is old and mismatched and the little round tables slightly dinged. The stage is small. There’s a patch on the curtain, but it doesn’t look old. The place has charm. It definitely reminds me of somewhere Christian would spend time.
“I love it,” I say.
“Yeah? I thought so. I have pretty good taste, ya know. ”
We go to the counter and I order a vanilla latte. Christian gets a regular coffee. “Who comes to a coffeehouse and gets regular coffee?” I ask him.
His forehead crinkles as he looks at me. “I’m thinking a lot of people, Bryntastic. ”
“No one I know. ”
“You know me. ”
My stomach bubbles. “I do. ”
We get our drinks and sit at a small table in the corner. There’s a guy on stage with his guitar on his knee, singing. He has a good voice, but not nearly as good as Christian’s. We drink our coffees and listen to the music. After a few songs the guy leaves the stage and a girl with dreadlocks comes on, carrying a guitar and a harmonica.
She’s incredible. I watch Christian lose himself in her as she plays and sings. He studies her. Watches her fingers move. I have a feeling if I were to talk to him, he wouldn’t hear me. And that’s okay. I like seeing him like this. When she takes a break, I tell him, “I used to get like that with my pottery, too. So totally lost in it that I didn’t notice anything going on around me. ”
“Sorry. I didn’t realize I was spacing out. ” Our table is next to a wall, and Christian leans against it. There aren’t too many people here and they aren’t paying any attention to us. Most of them have their eyes on the stage, waiting for the girl to play again.
“Music was big in helping me deal with shit. It’s almost like it transports me to another world, ya know?” he says. His voice is low, so no one else hears, but loud enough for me.
“Yeah. I get it. ” And according to him, he found it because of me.
“That’s why I think you need to get pottery back. ”
“I know. ” I try to take a sip of my coffee and realize it’s empty.
“I’ll go get another one,” he says, and before I can tell him he doesn’t need to, Christian is on his way to the counter. The girl starts to play and sing again, this mellow, relaxing beat that makes me want to lose myself as though I’m the one playing.
A couple minutes later, he returns.
“Will you tell me about it? About Angelica?” I ask. Christian pauses with his coffee cup close to his mouth and I add, “You don’t have to. I know I’m not one to talk. I haven’t told you about anything. ”
