Right Person Too Late

chapter 5

Noah

"Do you remember the time? Those sweet memories will always be dear to me."

Song: Remember The Time by Michael Jackson

"So, who are you, Noah?" Arsema asks, kicking off her thongs and throwing her feet up onto the dash. I lean over and gently pull them down, feeling a spark when my hands make contact with her bare calves so I quickly pull them away,

"Do you know how many accidents happen because of that?" I say when she stares at me, brows cocked.

"My bad, daddy. Don't avoid my question though." Placing my hands back on the wheel with a shrug I answer,

"I don't know, what do you wanna know?"

"Um...favourite colour, food, song? Biggest fear?"

"Woah, okay. Uh... favourite food has gotta be Puchero for sure."

"What's that? It sounds familiar but I've forgotten exactly what it is."

"It's this amazing stew with veggies, huge chunks of meat, rice and these fragrant spices. At least that's how my mum makes it." My mouth waters just thinking of it.

"Mhmmm sounds good, you gotta get me some one day." She says, glancing at me before looking back out the window.

Progress?

"Sure why not? So what's your favourite?"

"Kitfo for sure, 100%."

With a pang in my chest, I remember the Ethiopian Christmas Eves back in primary school when Miles and I would go to her house and help chop the onions. We always went home smelling of onions and wot but it was worth it for the fresh injera her mum would give us at the end of the day, slathered in kibe (Ethiopian spiced clarified butter) and mitmita (an Ethiopian spice that's my favourite spice to this day, so much so that I always have a jar of it). Her voice still going on about Kitfo and the different types brings me back. The passion and happiness in her voice bring a soft smile to my face. I look over at her and she's talking with her hands, that beautiful face all lit up.

"...anyway yeah, it's hands down the best food of all time. Ok so, favourite colour? We'll take turns."

I look her in the eyes, thinking about how during different times of the day they change shade and how each shade is even better than the last. How in the evening sun they're this gorgeous shimmery golden brown, and during the day they're a rich, light brown.

"Brown."

"Ew, boring. Ok, mine's gotta be either blue or green, but I haven't figured out which shade of each, so for now it's just green and blue. But like with blue, it's gotta be that dark midnight kinda one and a nice earthy-looking green. I don't know the names though. Oh well, ok, hobbies?"

"Reading, drawing...basketball I guess?"

"Cool! You draw?"

"I dabble."

She elbows me with a grin. "It's always the really good ones that say that. It's scientifically proven, you know?"

"Oh yeah?" I playfully reply, exaggeratedly raising my brow. "And your source is?"

"A true stalker slash writer never reveals her sources." A twinkle in her smile as she says it.

"You're a writer?" It makes sense given how much she used to love writing stories and reading them out loud to us every week.

"Yeah, I write short stories for online magazines and stuff like that."

"That's amazing, you've got to give me the names of them."

"Yeah, maybe one day."

We sit in contempt silence till we get to 1565 - an ice cream shop in Kensington. When I look over at Arsema to tell her we're there I see that she's fallen asleep, slightly leaning on the window. I don't want to wake her up so I go out locking the door behind me and get her a honeycomb ice cream in a cup. It was her favourite flavour as a kid, so I can only hope that she still likes it. When I return she still hasn't woken up so I put her ice cream in the cup holder and drive over to Port Melbourne Beach.

Once we get there I put the car in park, push my chair back and carefully pull my book out of the glove compartment so as not to wake her.

* * *

"Did I fall asleep?!" Arsema wakes with a start, flinging the towel I had draped over her onto the floor. I glance up from my book to see her rubbing her eyes and pushing her now frizzy, tangled hair out of her face.

"Yeah. You've been out for..." I check my watch, "...around two hours."

"What?! Oh no, no, no. I have a tutoring session at 1:30." At my questioning glance she adds. "There's this high school kid I tutor every second Saturday."

"I can drive you, where is it? Your place?"

"No, we meet up at the State Library. Oh my God, I can't believe I forgot."

"Calm down, I'll get you there in time." I turn on the car and back out of the parking spot as she scrambles around picking up her shoes and the stuff that had fallen out of her bag when she woke up.

"What's that?" I turn to see her looking at the now melted ice cream in the cup holder in confusion.

"Ice cream." She looks at me with an odd look, a mixture of sadness and surprise. "I promised you ice cream, so there it is. I know you fell asleep, but I don't know...you can throw it out if you want, I won't mind."

She doesn't reply with words, but instead picks it up and takes a sip.

"Honeycomb? Are you stalking me, Noah?"

"What?"

"Honeycomb has been my favourite flavour since...I don't know, as long as I can remember."

"Lucky guess?"

"Mhm, okay."

We don't talk for the rest of the ride as I swerve through the lunchtime traffic to get her to the library on time.

"Thanks for the ride."

"No worries." We stiffly shake hands not knowing what else to do, a tense silence in the air, both of us unable to come up with anything else to say. Arsema then pulls her hand away quickly and grabs her bag, breaking the tension.

"And thanks for what you did...earlier...at the park." She awkwardly adds before hopping out and running to the entrance of the library.

I drive to the closest car park and continue reading my book, waiting till my shift at the library, hoping she'll be done by the time I go in. Because I don't think I can be around Arsema any longer without telling her.