The Definition of Fate

Chapter 14

where
do all the
memories go,
the ones we
hide away
with
lock &
key yet
continue
to shape
us all the
s a m e?

- Amanda Lovelace

Despite my upcoming date with Quentin, I spend all of Friday night and part of Saturday morning in bed with my half-gallon of ice cream, Ron Swanson, and a heavy dose of self-pity. I still haven't finished unpacking, but I figure running into your ex-boyfriend from four years ago is a good enough excuse to leave a few boxes in the middle of the floor.

I hear a pounding on the door and set the half-gallon on my stomach; it may be a little chubby, but at least it's perfectly proportioned to serve as a table.

"What?" I groan.

The door open and Hina pops her head in. "You have to come out of your room at some point. Don't you have a date tonight?"

"Yep," I say, swallowing another spoonful of ice cream. "I'm just preparing myself."

"By wallowing in self-pity and ice cream?" Hina teases with a sly grin.

"Exactly," I say, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and rising. "What's up?"

"I thought you might like some fresh air. I'm off on an adventure for the afternoon. Care to join me?"

"An adventure?" I look at her and then look back to my ice cream. I still have a few hours before the date; I could go with her, or I could stay here and gorge myself while finishing Season 3 of Parks and Rec.

"I promise it'll involve food," she says with an enticing smile.

I shrug. "I'm in." We both know that I need to get out of bed and stop feeling sorry for myself eventually, and what better way to coerce me than food?

I don't even know why I'm wallowing in self-pity. It's not like I want to see Josh again; if anything, I desperately need to avoid him. Plus, I have a date tonight with a guy who's cute and seems cool. I have a new job, a new apartment, and two great roommates. A single Josh-sighting shouldn't be able to ruin all of the positive things in my life right now.

"Okay, well, put on some pants and we'll go," she says.

I laugh and close the door behind her, pulling on a pair of stretchy jeans, sandals, and a t-shirt that smells clean. A few minutes later, Hina and I jump into her car and she drives towards downtown.

"So where are we headed?" I ask.

"Every week, I do something or try something I've never done before," Hina explains. "I call them my Hina-dventures." Her face blushes a little at the cheesy nickname and I laugh aloud.

"That's awesome. Thanks for bringing me along; I promise I make an awesome sidekick. What's this week's Hinadventure?"

"How do you feel about an ice cream-pastry combo?"

My eyes bulge out of my head. "Are you kidding me? That sounds like heaven."

We arrive at the specialty store and Hina parallel parks like a pro. We hop out and enter the tiny bakery which features a window display filled with pastries of all varieties. Yellow gingham curtains outline the windows and a chalkboard easel indicates their specials for the day. We walk through the front door and the bell dings. My stomach grumbles as I scan the menu.

"So, they have this specialty thing that's supposed to be ice cream in fried dough," Hina explains as she orders us two from the counter. "And I'm dying to give it a try."