I hated wearing the baby-pink apron. It always had drips of ice cream or chocolate sauce down the front. It was bulky and unflattering and it made me look worse than usual. My black hair was so wavy and unruly it had to be up in a bun or pony tail at all times. No exceptions. My weak green eyes, pale freckeled skin, and lack of visible eyelashes made me look like I belonged in the ICU. Eyeliner and mascara were a necessity. I only discovered their miracles a year before I met you. That's when girls started whispering when I walked by and boys started talking when I walked away. It's also when I grew a few inches and lost a few from around my waist as a result. But with the apron on, it looked like I still carried the weight around my middle, instead of my hips where it actually is.
I knew I finally looked good, I'd waited 16 years for my ugly duckling plumage to molt and my swan feathers to emerge. I didn't want to hide them behind the Sweet Treat uniform. Ever since I was twelve, I worked the register while Poppy and Mamaw scooped ice cream. After Poppy had heart surgery last year and Mamaw hurt her wrist from too much hard work at the shop I was appointed head ice cream scoop and doomed to wear the chunky apron. I always felt embarrassed when you looked at me while I was wearing it. You always looked perfect. Reddish-brown hair that stuck up perfectly no matter what, tanned skin from loading and unloading supplies into boats and cars at your dads store, and those blue eyes... I've still never seen eyes as blue as yours.
Remember when we were done giggling about my blurting out the store name? You gave one last laugh, said 'Let's try that again', turned around and said 'Hi, I'm Dean'. 'Heather', I said. I remember blushing hard. You replied with, 'This is my first summer here, it's nice to meet you Heather. Very nice.' I had to look away to stop from breaking into a huge smile. I didn't want to look stupid.
I was glad you came in as we were closing. Mamaw was cleaning up in the back and the store was empty except for us. I thought for a moment before questioning you 'If your father owns the hardware store, how come I've never seen you before?'
'I used live in Minnessota until I was seven. I went to the same summer camp every year from age six till thirteen. I've been a camp counselor there for the past four years. If I had known you'd be here I would have walked home....' you looked at me right as I looked at you. I swore you smiled at me on purpose to see my reaction; more blushing. You admitted it weeks later at Samantha's house.
Then you asked me where I lived. I used to kick myself for telling you I lived in the Haywood Mansion June 15th to August 15th every summer but lived in Chicago. You were basically a stranger! A beautiful stranger, but still. Stranger danger. You lived with your dad above the store. The curiosity in me took over, 'Where's your mom?'. She was still in Minnesota with your two younger sisters. After the divorce your dad packed you up to start new in a small town and live the dream of owning a father-and-son shop.
I hadn't even noticed Mamaw was sweeping the seating area. She had already turned the sign tho 'closed'. I also didn't notice that you were leaning on the counter, arms crossed, hands nestled in your elbows. You could still look me in the eye leaning over like that. God, you were tall. A full foot taller than me, remember when we marked it on my door frame like we were kids again?
Mamaw told you we were closed but to stay as long as you liked, giving me a wink that made me blush even more. I remember you laughing with her on that one. She took the cash drawer out of the register before taking the broom and herself to the back room.
We kept talking about the town and how we had missed eachother for the past nine years of our lives by mere days. You left June 10th and returned August 20th every year. But this year it was 11:30 pm, an hour and a half after closing time, on June 16th, 2013 and there we were, leaning on the counter talking about how we're glad we met before you went off to college that fall in Georgia.
.... Just like yesterday
