Cream Soda

There was a good feeling on Summer nights. I felt good. It was the night that made me feel good. Everything was perfect about it. The car, the music, the moon. The boy. Maybe it was really the boy.

We just sat back and listened to some old school R&B. That good 70s. Chaka, Stevie, Marvin, Prince, Michael.

We passed a cream soda back and forward. I loved sharing that cream soda with him. I could taste his lips. It seemed that was as close as I would get.

The roof of his Mustang would be off and we sat in complete silence. There were no words needed most of the time. He knew how to tell me things without speaking. Often through the music, but I could feel him. Feel his peace. I was learning to do the same.

I would look over at him and stare. He didn’t like people to stare, but he didn’t mind me. When I would stare at him, he would tell me stories. Sometimes about how he felt. Not about me, of course. He would talk about his feelings with metaphors and analogies. Comparing them to the birds flying and the clouds drifting in the sky. Other times he would just play a song to tell me how he felt.

I wanted so badly to get really close to him and touch his face. Run my fingers through his hair. Some type of physical contact. I could tell that he knew I wanted that. When I stared at him, he would smile. A knowing smile.

He kept me guessing. I was always guessing. Does he like me? Probably not. Does he want to be with me? Me? No! Never! There were many questions I wanted to ask, but I couldn’t. And he knew.

At 11:30, he would leave. I hated it each time. I wanted him to stay with me, in the car... forever. We didn’t need to talk. We just needed the music and the cream soda. But he had to go because, at 6:30 AM, he had work. I was glad he came over at 9. At least I had two hours with him.

It started quite suddenly, but without regret.

I met him one day. It was the start of spring and I was at the store getting some cream soda. He was a cashier at Lowndell’s, our local grocery store. I remember walking up to aisle seven and placing the pack on the conveyer belt. I looked up at him and he was looking at me with a genuine smile.

“Hi, how you doin' this spring?” he asked. His voice brought to my mind the image of a lion basking in the sun.

“I’m fine,” I said kind of shyly, and I never got shy. What was it?

“Dollar seventy-seven,” he said. I looked for his name tag. None, dang! I handed him the money hoping our hands would touch “on accident”. That didn’t happen.

“You have a fine rest of your day,” he said emphasizing the word fine with a smile. I didn’t want to leave the store, so I smiled back and left my wallet.

“Excuse me, ma’am, you forgot your wallet.” Inside, I shivered at the sound of his voice. I thanked him and reached for the wallet. This time, I got my wish. When our hands touched my breath caught in my lungs. It couldn’t even get to my throat. He kept his composure, however, and those relaxed eyes stayed the same. I smiled timidly and walked away. I looked back, but he was already focused on his next customer.

After that encounter, I don’t think there was a time where I went more than five minutes without thinking of him.

I saw him three days after that at Lucy’s Grub. I was with my sister, Virginia. We walked in and the guy in the front eyed my sister flirtatiously. Every guy eyed my sister flirtatiously. The guy sat us and then he came up. Everything stopped when he smiled at me.

“Hey, cream soda,” he teased. I could have fallen out on that floor. He remembered me.

“Hi,” I replied softly. I looked for a name tag. None, again. Doggone it!

“You know my sister?” Virginia asked.

“She came to Lowndell’s a few days ago,” he said casually. He looked at my sister and I froze. But it was just a glance. Just one. I could breathe again.

He asked her what she wanted, then he looked at me. I opened my mouth but my words got stuck when I looked at his eyes. They were gray.

“They came from my mom’s side,” he said with a small smile on his lips and in his eyes.

“Your eyes?” I asked which made him laugh. “Yeah.”

I went silent. He looked at me expectantly and I realized he was waiting for my order.

“Oh!” I said.

“Sorry, my sister has social anxiety,” Virginia spoke. Now I really was embarrassed. I ordered without looking at him.

When he came back with our food, I still couldn’t look at him. When we were leaving he handed me a to-go cup with a note on it.

Cream soda, on me.

He winked and walked away.