Dragged.

4: Challenge Accepted

There was a knock at the door that sounded a lot more like a bookshelf falling over. I walked down the front hall in a mild panic and swung it open to see Patrick, with two large cups of coffee, and half a dozen tote bags almost nearly dropping everything. I invited him in, and he set all his stuff down in front of the sofa. I looked at him in confusion.

"What's all this?"

"Oh well, okay so I know this is a little weird, but my sister just moved up north with her husband, and she can't wear any of her nice dresses anymore. So she told me to sell them and get some money, but instead I thought they would look good on you. I know we just met, but you look about her size and I figured that if you even chose just one, it might be of use to a party one day. Nearly all of them have never even been worn." He smiled uneasily, not knowing what my response was going to be.

He began pulling the dresses out of the tote bags to expose that they were not at all what I was imagining; some sun dresses, some dinner dresses, and maybe a nice gown or two. No, they were all extremely fancy expensive dresses. Most looking like the ones in stores that would cost close to four hundred dollars apiece. I sort of gasped, and covered my mouth. He looked up at me standing above him.

"Should I put them away?" he sniffled.

"No its okay, keep going." I said, very interested in seeing what else was in the bag.

"Okay," he said pulling out the last dress. "That's it! Do you see anything you like?" he asked.

"Oh, everything." I said in amazement.

"Okay, then take it all. Saves me time organizing the sales." He laughed.

"Oh but I couldn't." I smiled and shook my head.

"No, please do! I was hoping you would take at least half, but now I can get them all off my hands." He said gesturing towards them. "I'd say there are about sixteen, maybe seventeen. Oh wait no, there are eighteen, yeah that's right!"

"How did your sister get so many beautiful dresses?"

"She used to be Miss Canada, and fashion designers everywhere would sent her stuff to wear, but she never wore a lot of it." He said looking down at the now stacked tote bags.

"So why not donate them?" I said hesitantly, not wanting him to think that I didn't want the dresses.

"Oh trust me, we did donate over a hundred, but she kept twenty of her favorites. Then she moved up north and took two with her for special occasions. Do you want to try them on now, or should I leave them, and you can bring me the ones you don't like, or the ones that are ill-fitting?"

"I'll try them on later. That way you aren't sitting doing nothing for an hour." I smiled at him.

"Oh I wouldn't mind seeing you in those dresses." He laughed but then frowned. "I'm sorry, I overstepped. We just met."

"No it's okay, don't apologize. Thank you though, you know, for thinking of me when you saw all those gorgeous dresses. Makes me feel special." I gently touched his shoulder and all of a sudden he stood up tall, and he embraced me in a big hug. I was taken aback, but I loved hugs from tall people. It made me feel safe.

"Thank you!" he said quietly, before letting me go.

"Why are you thanking me?"

"Because I haven't had a good friend in a while, and even though we only met for the first time about a week ago, you are already so nice to me, and I haven't had that in a while. I'm sort of the black sheep in my family, and aside from my sister, no one talks to me anymore. You though, you are just naturally a good person. You were nice to me when I was just a random barista. You were nice to me when I was just your floor neighbor, and it's so nice, you taking that little old lady home all the time, but to top it off you are just a genuine person, one of the most genuine. You walk into a coffee shop full of prissy woman, and their even prissier husbands in your pajamas. I don't know anyone else who is just who they are no matter who is watching, because even I can't do that." He said now looking at the floor. I put my hand on his shoulder, and sat him on the couch. I handed him his coffee, and put my hand on his lap. He gently smiled at me. It looked like he wanted to cry. I had never met a guy who was so willing to show defeat in front of a girl he had just met.

"I'm so sorry," he said, looking at me, inching towards the edge of the couch to put his coffee on the table. "I haven't had a normal friend like you in a long time."

"Oh, that's alright, don't apologize. Haha and I wouldn't exactly say I'm that normal. The closest thing I have to a friend is this girl named Vicky who practically ignores me, and on top of that I think she hates me." I snuffed at my own realization, looking down at my coffee cup.

"But how is that so? You are such a good person."

"Thanks, you really don't need to flatter me that much though. I'm just doing what I need to do to get by."

"Oh, okay." He said, smiling.

This wasn't really that weird for me. I often found myself trying to make friends in peculiar places. I would start talking to a random guy at the gas station, while he was pumping his gas, or I would talk to a client I found interesting a lot longer than I needed to. This time was different though. He came to me. Patrick was the one who was seeking my friendship, and although I already found him a little strange. It made me like him even more. After a brief moment to sort of just recompose ourselves, I asked Patrick a question to break the silence.

"So Patrick, tell me a little about yourself, like where are you from? I sense a slight accent." I said repositioning myself on the couch.

"Oh, I'm originally from Scotland, but I came here when I was twelve with my mum, my sister, and three brothers. We all lived in a small house in Vancouver, but when my family no longer saw the need to have me around, I moved up here. Like I said I don't talk to them anymore, accept for my older sister. I used to live in that little apartment across town, but it burnt down two weeks ago. Luckily my stuff was fine, but the rest of the building was in shambles, so the lot of us relocated. It just so happened that Miss. Tracy was selling her apartment to move to California. That's how I wound up on your couch right here." He laughed. "How about yourself?"

"Well, I've always lived in this town, and I still speak to my older sister too, but that's about it. My dad was never in the picture, and neither was my sister's dad. My mum liked to play the board a bit, and when I turned eighteen, she completely disappeared. My sister and I filed a missing persons report, and when they finally found her, she said that she was never coming back, and we could have everything. We sold the house, and all the stuff in it, and my sister and I split it right in half. We both got $350,000. I bought this fixer-upper for $75,000 and the rest is history. Besides the fact that I hate the job I am at." I shrugged.

"Well what happened to all the rest of the money from the house? If you don't mind me asking." He stared puzzled.

"Nothing. I still have it locked up tight. I just can't sit around and do nothing. I am a busy body. I'll admit, it's a lot of work for a job I don't even need, but it's something to do you know? I always thought of opening a shop or something, but I don't have the slightest clue. This town already has everything it needs. The only thing I leave for is to go skiing, because the best tracks are one town over. It's just too simple here." I looked at Patrick, waiting for his visual response.

"Maybe I'll think of something cool, and let you know." He smirked. "I've got a ton of cool ideas."

"Okay," I laughed, now walking over to the key bowl in the front hall. "Here take half of these," I said handing him half the stack of Purple Pony sticky notes, "and every time you think of a new idea you can stick it on my door."

"Challenge accepted," he said reaching for the stack, and then a pen off the coffee table. "First one," he said holding up the note reading, 'coffee shop.'

"Not another one, there are already enough. We would never beat out the Bettys that run the Bean Bar."

"You're right, they are quite the pieces of work, and I've only known them for a week. I only work there because my hobby pays."

"What is your hobby?"

"Oh well, I make model ships, and sell them to fancy CEOs so they can display them in their offices."

"That's neat, but isn't that a little vintage. I didn't know that people were still in to that kind of stuff." I laughed.

"Oh yeah, I have a natural talent for it, and it pays well." He nodded.

"Huh. I need a hobby like that!"