Halcyon Summer

Pancakes and Sprinkles

He was right. This place was the greatest! I sighed in contentment as I finished my pancakes, shoving the plate away from me in victory.

“Okay Chase, I’ll give you this one. Are these blueberry pancakes or angel pancakes? Because they are heavenly,” I exclaimed, chortling at my own joke.

“Well praaaaise the sweet lord, the little lady is a believer! I said, can I get an a-MEN!” Chase prosthelytized, sweeping his arms upwards extra dramatically and drawing a few affronted looks from the more dignified elderly ladies startled from their Friday brunches.

I, on the other hand, began to cackle in a less dignified manner, raising my own hands and joining in, in my best TV preacher impersonation, “I say amen brother, and we must spread the word of this most glorious breakfast!”

We both dissolved into laughter. The ladies continued to disapprove over the tops of their crosswords as we gathered our things and I dutifully paid the smiling waitress, who gave us a humorous wink.

“Well thank goodness Martha, I thought they’d never leave,” I remarked in a mock-affronted drawl once we’d left.

“I’m telling you Gladys, nowhere is safe from these young scallywags these days,” Chase responded in a gossipy tone.

“Scallywags? Really? How gauche,” I laughed.

Chase grinned goofily. “I think we brightened their day really. Everyone needs a little humor to start off right! If nothing else we gave them a story to tell in shocking detail over dinner, and that’s what we’re really here for isn’t it?”

“Anything for the fans, darling,” I purred back. “So what now, big boy? Where to next on this journey of delight?”

“Well,” Chase mused, “I thought you should get a real California introduction and whatnot, so how about we cruise the boardwalk and point out people who look like their dogs?”

“Ahh, you know me too well already.”

“Well then, my lady, to the boardwalk!”

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“So do you think it’s a subconscious thing or a conscious ego fulfilment when people buy their doggy doppelgangers?” I asked, as we strolled past a particularly muscled jogger and his bulldog.

“Mmm, hard to say I think,” Chase deliberated solemnly. “One has to take into account how offended they might be by the comparison. For example, I probably wouldn’t want to be the one to ask Protein-Shake Pete back there if he knows he looks like Jowly the Bulldog.”

The burly jogger took just that moment to glance at us suspiciously. His large noise-cancelling headphones told me that he probably hadn’t heard us, but Chase still ducked behind me with a yelp.

I cackled as I shifted to expose him once more. “Now you’ve done it. You’re going to find a bag of flaming bulldog poop on your doorstep later, tough guy.”

“Pfff, I’m not afraid,” he boasted unconvincingly, as he pushed me in front of him again, “but the back of your shirt is just so fascinating. Now hold still while I study the thread pattern really closely.”

I gave him a playful shove as we continued down the boardwalk. It really was a beautiful day – the kind that makes you fill to bursting with inner contentment as the rays of the sun warm your face and the breeze dances across your skin.

I sighed and turned my face upwards, enjoying the moment of companionable silence that hung between us. Out of the corner of my eye I snuck a glance at Chase. The sunlight was gleaming on the hair that fell over his eyes and highlighted a few freckles over his tan. He turned and looked at me right at that moment, and flashed a cheeky little grin at me that showed off his dimples.