Cross My Fingers

BLUE CHRISTMAS

Finally, the day was over. I stepped outside into the crisp fall air and watched as everyone filtered out through the doors. Scanning the crowd, I looked for a medium sized blonde haired girl in a green shirt. Reggie ended up surprising me from behind. She had a lilac bomber jacket over herself and she shivered. Texas. Right. This was definitely not Texas, far from it—this was Maine. Her fall was 70, our fall was 40 or lower. Well, that would give me more chances to give her my clothes and/or put my arm around her slender shoulders. OOOOHH YESSSS! I silently thought, but she tapped me on the shoulder and said,

"Hey, are you on Temple Drive? Or do you know how to get there, because my mom is picking up my brother for something-or-rather and I don't know how to get home."

"Yeah, I do," I said, as I walked over to my bright red pickup truck. Gesturing to it I said, "I could drive you, if you want."

She immediately perked up and replied, "Oh please, I'm so ready to get out of this cold! Nothing like Texas you know, it's literally a bajillion degrees all year!"

I laughed and, trying not to sound too sarcastic, said "Well, this isn't exactly Texas fall weather, it's like Texas' wildest dreams for winter!" 

She laughed too and said, "Yeah, I guess y'all are used to this type of weather... I am NOT!"

We climbed up into my truck and started the engine. She rumbled to life, a nice warm wave traveled through the car, and then Reggie asked me a very peculiar question indeed.

"Do you have a name for your car?" She inquired.

I stared at her, perplexed that I hadn't thought of that, and replied "Well, I suppose we could give her one now, do you have any ideas, I'm fresh out."

She brightened and said, " Hmmm, Stephanie?"

"No."

"Chandler?"

"Hell to the no."

"Fabiana??"

"God damnit woman where do you come up with these?"

"Ha ha. Anne?"

"Hmm, now you are getting somewhere."

"Annie?"

"Like the Hard Knock Life girl? Nope."

"Well, Beatrice?"

"Too old."

"Veronica?"

"Archie?"

"Moose?"

"Stefan?"

"Pam?"

"Angela?"

"Leslie?"

"Stop naming characters from the Archie comics and Vampire Diaries and The Office and Parks and Rec. ok? Wait wait you forgot Betty!"

"Betty?"

"You know, like the blonde quirky girl who gets good grades from the Archie comics? Her?"

"OH MY CHEESE DORITO YES!! HOW COULD I FORGET HER!?"

"Cheese dorito?" I questioned.

"Yeah, when I get really excited instead of cussing I say random food names, it's kinda weird."

Nosebleed. I'm dying of pure cuteness help me, somebody! "Holy shit, that's adorable," I mumble.

"What did you say?"

"I said, Holy shit, that's adorable," I mumbled again, slightly louder. A blush covered my face and I ride to focus on the road for a little. Useless, because it wasn't crowded at all and I knew the streets by heart. Still, I tried to focus on anything other than her adorable face.

She must've noticed me blushing and maybe she dismissed it, but I don't know if she felt the air of sexual tension and angst flowing off of me in strong, pungent waves. For all I knew she was thinking of burning me in hell after she used me to get sympathy from the cheer squad. Humph. Whatever. It's not like I believed what I thought anyway, but I ended up getting super worked up over if she was actually my friend. So, before the giant tsunami waves of depression crashed on to Rose Island, I started up a slightly, just slightly, random conversation.

"So, ah, do you like bread?" I blubbered around, immediately embarrassed by my brain and my mouth trying their best. "I meant, like, cranberry bread or something. Or do you have a favorite food or do you like your Olive Garden breadsticks extra oiled." 

She laughed and replied, "Well, if you were talking favorite food, I'd have to go with cherry pie and vanilla bean ice cream. I actually do like cranberry bread, and I've never been a fan of that whole avocado toast thing. Why are you wasting the bread, is there something wrong with you?"

I considered this, and, upon my short avocado-or-nah conversation in my head I took my stance. "Really? When you stepped on stage you sorta looked like you would've been into that kind of thing. Vegan, avocado toast, deconstructed coffee... I've run out of hippie ideas."

"Really, you thought I was a powderface? That's what I used to describe those fake tan cheerleaders."

"No, I just thought you looked like you would listen to indie rock, but not in skullcandy headphones, eat healthy, but not brag about it, and pain landscapes of pretty lakes and boats and your family would hang them around the house."

"Well, indie rock, check, painting, check. But not of pretty lakes and boats, more edgy like bleeding hands holding a makeup brush or mirror reflections of different people. Sad stuff like that."

I do have to admit, it surprised me when she answered me so honestly like that. 

"Enough. I'm so done with people asking about me today, tell me something else, other than that short blurb at lunch," she said.

"Fine, fine. Popcorn with milk duds is my go-to movie food, I love meatball subs, not like the Subway ones, but the ones where you make meatballs, slather them in sauce, and slap it into a white-bread baguette. Umm, I draw, a lot. Comics and stupid stuff mostly, but once in a while I'll have a good idea and I feel painting."And I like you, I wanted to say. I really, really like you. But I didn't. I wanted to say it, I really did, but who confesses there love to the new girl the first day they arrive? Pathetic.

"Oh, well, this is my house! Umm, here's my phone number, ok? Text me?" She asked like it was a question but for Inner Rose it was not. YES! I wanted to scream,I TRIED TO FLIRT!! I wonder what Lexi and Sam will say.

"Oh, one more thing, can you maybe show me around this weekend? I'm oddly curious to find out about this milk-dud-plus-popcorn thing." Hell yes. Hell to the yes to the exclamation. Yes. I do, Reggie, I do. Please take me as your beloved wife and eternal companion. Shut. Up. Self. I do believe my heart has walked away and entered a state of happiness so high that it leaves my body in a coma for the rest of the week.

Right as she exits the car, Frank Sinatra decides to play his Blue Christmas through Betty's speaker. Any other day, I would've cried and turned it up, sitting there, preferably with rain, lightning, and a giant black hole, wallowing in my single-ness and my depressed state of mind. But, like I said, this day was different. So, I changed the channel and made my way home.

All the way, thinking of her.

Damnit.