Coincidences

Act VII

I was going for a walk in the beach. Shoeless and soaked with seawater, I sank into the sand, trying to engulf me. Tiny shells got washed up to the shore, of all shapes and colors, splendidly highlighting the wet path.

A row of stores, filled with a great diversity of customers, can be seen various yards away. The pier was also visible. It reached out into the vast waters. People were swimming, diving, snorkeling, surfing, living in these waters, along with the fishes that ruled the aquatic world.

I had my sandals at hand, no worries. I won't ever go to town barefoot; my feet would reek of fish. I put them on my sandy feet and walk past the crowd. The wooden flooring creaked below me. Seagulls called, in search of food. The restaurant's owners were the vigilantes in their crime.

The place was lively, extraordinarily lively. Street performers showed their tricks and the audience marveled with awe. The playgrounds were full of children and their parents, the youth screaming as they chased one another. A fit middle-aged man backflipped from the bars and landed perfectly, as if he did that everyday. The ice cream businesses were skyrocketing with sales.

Speaking of ice cream, I did a pit stop over at Gusto's Ice Cream store. It was the only one with cookies and cream, and I love cookies and cream.

Mr. Ravinetti, the shop owner, smiled at me and said, "Ciao, Martin! How are you?" I've been going here for the last couple of weeks, since the highs this month, despite it being autumn, were past a hundred Fahrenheit. "The usual?"

"Sure thing," I grinned.

Fabio Ravinetti is a busty man, half American, half Italian. He looked typically Italian, indeed, except for an absent mustache. He thinks it's rude to think all Italians had them.

He scooped me two balls into a paper cup. When he finished, he told me, "Hey, that girl has been staring at you, ever since you came."

I looked over my shoulder to find Zoey with a cone of cookies and cream ice cream. Disregarding the coincidence, I start my way to her, zigzagging through the tables.

"Hi, Zoey," I greeted. I sat beside her.

Uncomfortably, she muttered back, "He...Hello." She licked the ice cream, with the least interest to me.

I waved for attention. "Look, I'm sorry for what happened before," I apologized. "I really didn't mean to shout."

"I suppose... It's okay," said Zoey.

"So, let's forget all of that, and I hope we could be, say, friends."

"I don't know."

"Come on, you make friends easily as a kid. What's the difference now?"

I knew the difference. Kids these days prefer to interact socially through social media, and it isn't changing at all. Shut-ins, NEETs, all of those kind of people that prevent face to face human interaction at all costs. That didn't apply to us, though.

She didn't speak a word and didn't seem like she was going to any time soon. She's unsure about the offer. I guess we did start on the wrong foot, with me blabbering about nonsense.

I said, to stop the awkwardness, "If you don't want to, then fine. Let's just get to know about each other a little more."

I sat upright. "I'm Martin Turner, turning 17. I like to do many hobbies, like playing video games and listening to music."

She replied, "I'm Zoey. Same age. I like the same things, too."

"Then, which genres do you like?"

"Pop, mainly. A bit EDM, too."

If I had to mention my favorite genres, I would say what she said, word for word. I like pop and EDM.

"And a random question. What is your favorite animal?"

I guess, since I like them too, it would be...

"Cats."

Knew it.

"I'm a cat person too, actually," I said.

I have a feeling that this conversation isn't going to be useful, since we share the same, freaking, interests.

"Okay, um," I spoke, changing the direction of this chatter. "Where are you going afterwards?"

"I was just strolling around."

"I was doing exactly the same thing!" I blurted. I stood up, already finished my ice cream, and said, "Say, why can't I come along?"

The next thing I know, I was walking with her, a cool breeze blowing against our faces.

The pier finally released the proud stench of the sea. Fishers left their rods to do their work, while they took a snooze on their foldable chairs. A diner rested by the end of the pier, allowing food service to hungry passerbys. Litter was scattered throughout the place, and the cleaners scampered around picking them up.

We halted at the farthest end of the pier. The moment we arrived, a couple of dolphins met us and waved excitedly. A mass of people gathered to see the dolphins.

"I've never seen a dolphin before," I admitted. "Have you?"

She shook her head. She let out a small smile, radiating a brisk ray of sunshine. Her hair flailed in different directions, like those bobbing humanoid balloons you see outside stores and malls. Her eyes glistened with delight.

"So you do smile, every once in a while."

We headed home together, taking the same path I made. The waves crashed against our feet in every step we took.

She lowered her gaze, shyly. She was more relaxed, as though her mind replenished sanity. The fact that bothered her became less evident.

Taking this as a chance, I asked, "So, can we be friends?"

She shook her head, saying, "I am not sure about it. You only make friends if you gain someone's trust. You can't simply make one right off the bat, like when we were kids."

"I know. I trying to reach out to you, if you didn't notice."

I began to explain, "I seriously didn't know your dad passed away. In a way, I can relate, you know."

She looked up. "What do you mean?" Zoey asked.

I was about to tell her, until the clouds started to shower us with little droplets.

"Let's hurry," I suggested.

We ran back across the beach and barely made back home before it started to rain. I dropped her off her front door, then I excused myself and began to leave.

"Let's talk again some other time," I said.

She entered her house without a word.