Chevelle's Story

chapter 3

Chevelle walked through the fruits and veggies section of the supermarket, searching unsuccessfully for tomatoes that didn't feel as hard as coconuts. That was the one thing—well, one of many things, actually—that Chevelle hated about living in the U.S.; the fruits and vegetables just did not taste right.

She didn't know whether it was the soil, the quality of care, or something else entirely that was causing all of America's plant life to suffer, but after her fateful experience five years ago (that, for her sake, we won't get into right now) Chevelle at least knew one thing: she would never eat another mango that hadn't been grown in Haiti's soft soil.

Shopping for these kinds of things always made Chevelle feel extra homesick, but nonetheless, she was pleased with how well her family had managed to 'haitify' their life in their five years here.

After passing the plums and peaches for a third time, Chevelle came to a stop. She was going in circles and not finding what she needed, and she wasn't sure who to ask. The store attendant had just pointed her towards those same coconut-hard tomatoes when she asked him, and so she was at a loss for options. Chevelle was ready to go look for her dad and tell him the bad news when a voice spoke from behind her.

"Hey, you."

Chevelle recognized the voice immediately, but she couldn't quite figure out where from. It felt familiar, and it sent a shiver down her spine as soon as it brushed her ears. And, friends, let me just say that the one thing Chevelle was not expecting, was to spin around and come face-to-face with the dazzling half-stranger she'd dreamt about the previous night, and so of course, that's exactly what happened.

Right there, in the flesh, standing next to the sad-looking Red Delicious apples, was Abel Seifu. He was looking at Chevelle with the most beautiful smile spread across his lips—like he was genuinely happy to have run into her and didn't care to try and hide it. Chevelle couldn't help but smile back.

"Abel."

She breathed out his name and allowed it to settle in the shallow space between them. "How are you?" she asked.

"I'm doing okay," Abel said with a shrug and a nod. "You know—considering."

Right. Considering his ex got married about twenty-four hours ago.

"You?"

Chevelle shrugged. "The same," she replied. "Maybe even slightly worse."

Abel raised an eyebrow. "Worse than last night?" he asked. "When your car got broken into?"

"I mean..." Chevelle looked up at him through her lashes. "That wasn't the only thing that happened last night."

Abel took in a sharp breath, but then he paused right as Chevelle thought he was going to speak. He seemed apprehensive, and for some reason that just made her want to be even bolder. "So...you had a good time then?" he asked.

"I already told you that I did."

Abel frowned. He wasn't sure if Chevelle was messing with him or not, because last night she had (quite bluntly) declined his offer to hang out again, and while it had stung in the moment, he let it be. Now she was telling him that she had, in fact, enjoyed their time together and she expected him to know what to do with this information? God, in his few months as a single man, Abel had forgotten just how confusing girls could be, but now it was all rushing back like a lost language, and he couldn't lie, he kind of enjoyed the whirlwind that came with having a girl in his life.

"My bad," he said, flashing Chevelle a grin and watching as her eyes flickered down to his lips. "I thought you were just being polite when you said that. You didn't seem to want to see me again."