Letters to Adonis

Chapter:: One

Dear Adonis,

Did you know one of the symptoms of Parkinson’s is shaking and difficulty walking, movement, and coordination? As if I wasn’t clumsy already, and it was going to get worse.

The third time I came into my now favorite cupcake shop, you asked me out. It was cute how you did, really. I walked into the store, the bell chiming as if glad to see me. Your mother wasn’t there to greet me, instead you were there looking at your shoes or something. Were you trying to get the nerve to ask me out?

“Hello?” I called out, your head snaps up so quickly your neck probably popped. I smile at you and thoroughly surprised when you have a small smile for me too.

“Hey, usual?” You move to get a glove on and I shake my head. I can tell I surprised you by how confused you looked.

“I swear I’ve gained five pounds since I started coming in here.” I pat my stomach, as if you can see the five pounds through my Paramore shirt.

You roll your bright eyes. “Oh, so you’re one of those girls.”

I narrow my eyes are you, certain you’re asking for trouble. “What do you mean?”

You cross your arms across your chest and make a face, later I know that as you’re ‘I’m about to state my opinion so you better listen’ expression. “The kind of girl who watches what they eat even when they are so thin already.”

“So what if I am? Why does it matter to you?” I admit it; I’m teasing you by this point. Probably a little further than I should, but its fun.

“Because I want to go on a date with you.” You blurt, and you cup your hand over your mouth. As if you can grab the words out in front of you and shove them back in. But that didn’t work, and you realize this as your cheeks flush.

“Is that so?” I walk up closer to the display case that shows off the delicious cupcakes and rest my elbows on it. I smile at you, because your cheeks are still burning.

“Of course. Would you like to go on a date with me?” Surprisingly, there isn’t a stutter in your question or a nervous pitch.

“I would love to.” I state, getting a cupcake for the hell of it.

 “Nobody ever has dates on the day that they ask.” You tell me later that day, and I should’ve known that was when our relationship would be different. I figure since you embarrassed yourself earlier, I should be the one to grab your hand. It’s warm, as it should be. Did you feel my fingers twitch at all? I was so comforted just holding your hand that I didn’t even care to think that you might wonder why my muscles have started not to listen to me anymore. But I don’t think you did notice, because you didn’t say anything.

“So what are we going to do for our date?” I ask you. I shot down all of your ideas, and you’re in deep thought about what would appeal to me and be fun for you too.

“We could go to the pier.” You suggest, a weird look on your face tells me that this place means something to you. I agree easily, figuring I could get the answer out of you.

So we walk to the pier, we both don’t have a car. You said yours was in the shop, and I walk everywhere I go. Knowing you probably won’t be able to control yourself enough to walk down a street in twenty years or so makes walking seem more enjoyable. Of course, I didn’t plan on the early diagnosis.

By the time we get there, the sun is almost a red shade on the horizon. We sit close together, because it’s chilly close to the water. We don’t speak for a while; just enjoy each other’s presence. Would it be weird if I said I felt connected to you then? I never told you, because I didn’t want to sound weird. But it’s true, and I’m sure you felt it too. How could you not feel something so strong?