When I Was Alphie

B-Side: Tim

Author's note: this chapter switches between past and present (Anna's memories with Timmy and now with Sartaaj). I haven't attempted a chapter that alternates time lines, therefore I'd love feedback on how I did and if it was confusing for you as a reader.

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B-side / Tim

Dear Timmy,

I remember the day we met. It wasn't that long ago; only two years. Perhaps the reason we became so close was that I am an avid believer in fate, you are an avid believer in kindness, and there I was sitting on the curb by your pick-up truck outside of the Dunkin Donuts, fighting tears and clutching a paper bag containing a stale blueberry muffin.

The guy I had hooked up with deposited me there with five dollars, a bruised ego, and the lingering hurt of being called a "fuckhole". I was too embarrassed to sit inside the coffee shop, considering I had sex-hair, disheveled clothing, swollen lips, and there were more than several of our classmates inside. I was outside with only five-percent battery remaining on my phone, trying to find an Uber in a town where there were few, all while fighting to not have a total breakdown.

I guess you saw desperation when you came stomping out those glass doors smudged by fingertips. A few months later you would explain what panic and desperation look like in an animal, pointing it out while I watched a mother cow ram into the wooden gate at the barn on our school campus in an attempt to break free and find her calf which had been taken to be castrated. Wide eyes, flared nostrils, agitated movements, and then eventually, stillness except for the heaving of her ribcage. To you, I was another frightened creature that needed care.

You were so loud; you're still so loud.

"Hello, Alphie Clause!" You had bellowed across the parking lot. I will admit that at first, you scared me, mostly because I didn't know how you knew my name, though later I would come to find out you had a habit of learning and remembering everyone's name. It's compulsive, the way you must know the name of everyone you encounter. "Would you like a ride, Alphie?"

You helped me into your raised truck, told me to watch my head, and then patted my shoulder once I had settled down into the passenger seat with a suspicious glance at you.

"Whatcha got in the bag?" You asked, probably trying to make conversation, or maybe the question was an attempt to make me think of something other than what was replaying in my mind.

Instead of answering, I broke the muffin messily in half and offered you it with a shaking hand. You took part of the pastry, shoved it in your mouth in one go, and put the truck in gear after giving me a muffin-crumb grin. I wanted to wipe your mouth off so badly, but you did it yourself, smearing your sleeve across your face. Crumbs scattered across the upholstery seat, which was stained by years of dirt.

"What's up, my dude?" You asked like we were pals. "Why the long face?"

I don't know why I told you everything, considering that I'm not a person that tends to overshare. The inside of your truck felt safe, your eyes were on the road and not me, and between us, I felt this comradery I hadn't truly felt with anyone else. It spilled out of me in a chain of words that probably weren't very cohesive but brought the point across: "I met up with this guy who was super mean to me and called me a fuckhole, what if I am actually a fuckhole? He was twenty-seven and I'm sixteen and he said he knew better."

"That guy didn't know anything, he probably has his own problems and he took it all out on you," you said matter-of-factly. "I'm sorry that happened. That sounds terrible, and you don't deserve to be treated that way. By the way, Sheila had her babies, do you want to come over and see them?"