Pineapple Candies

******

    She looks away for a minute, wearing an expression I can't fathom, gazing out the window while she stirs her coffee. She takes a drink of it and smiles, closing her eyes just as the late afternoon sun finds a break in the clouds and bathes her in a halo of golden light. It could have been a scene scripted from a movie.

    "Okay," she begins.

    Her smile's in full force again. Her face would be lit up even without the sun.

    "So in the grand tradition of all great screwball comedies, this would be the point where we set any ground rules. Do we need to write anything down, or is a verbal agreement okay?"

    "Ground rules?" My brow arches as I look at her.

    "You know, things that are non-negotiable; like no calls after midnight, or nothing that involves the consumption of haggis, or Kelley will not sneak into my apartment and jump me in the middle of the night."

    I laugh out loud. "I think I'm good."

    "Then you're okay with eating haggis?" There's the hint of a smile, almost imperceptible, as she works her deadpan mode.

    "No, but I think I'll trust you on that." I notice that she didn't question the last one, and I wonder why she even included it. "And I thought you were vegetarian?"

    She nods, taking a drink of her coffee. "But still, you never know when the haggis thing might come up. Many a brilliant friendship has been felled over issues involving the consumption of sheep's innards." She smiles, flashing her brows at me, then looks away again.

    The sun's nearly to the point of being obscured by the city skyline as it sinks toward dusk. And her demeanor shifts again.

    "I have two." She looks at me. "One: If you agree, it's for the whole four weeks. And two: Don't blow me off." She holds my gaze for a minute then takes a drink of her coffee. She's shaking her head as she sits it down again. "No, wait, I mean three: Be honest with me."

    And maybe this isn't as thought out as she was making it seem.

    "What do you mean?"

    "I mean, even if you do agree, and it sucks or you hate it, say so and it's done - regardless of whether the four weeks are up or not. If you feel I'm too demanding or I'm cutting into your time too much, or I ask you to do something you really don't want to do - you'll be up-front with me and say so."

    She's giving me a fail-safe so I have a way out, no matter what. I wonder why she thinks it's necessary for a four week commitment?

    "And the other one?"

    "Don't blow me off?"

    I nod. Four weeks is pretty much self-explanatory.

    "I guess it's basically the same thing; just don't ignore me. If you're too busy or tired or just don't feel like having anything to do with me for what ever reason, let me know." Her gaze drifts toward the window again. "I mean it only takes a couple seconds to send a text, you know? 'Really tied up at work - I'll call you later.' or 'Hideous day, exhausted, just going to bed.'" She takes a deep breath. "I don't want to feel like I'm not even worth a few seconds of someone's time; like I'm that trivial or inconsequential."

    She doesn't meet my eyes as she says it, but watching her, watching the way she holds her breath for a minute afterward  as she continues to stare out the window, I don't question that's based in experience too.