Autumn

51: Which milkshake's best

"We close early on Friday nights," Maggie said, pulling out her keys when they reached the doors of Dianne's.

"Wouldn't you want to stay open later on Friday nights? I'm guessing a lot of people would want some good food after a drink."

"Most of my employees are students, and they deserve Friday nights off too. Besides, there are a bunch of fast food chains just down the road from campus and that's where people really want to go. Nothing is better than a McMuffin at two in the morning."

"I can't argue with that. I'm more of a hash brown man myself, though," Theodore said, following Maggie inside.

He watched as she flicked on the lights and together they stepped inside. "I'm a sucker for a good caramel sundae."

"Is that what we're having for dessert? Caramel sundaes?"

Maggie went straight for the kitchen, shaking her head. "Similar. Milkshakes."

Theodore leaned against one of the cool counters and watched as Maggie used a hair tie wrapped around her wrist to tie her hair back. She was wearing a pair of long, gold earrings with little stars attached to the ends. When she turned around to grab an apron hanging, the ceiling lights made the gold shine.

"The secret is in the ice-cream. Ours is homemade. Anyone who says vanilla is a boring flavour has never had a good scoop, and to be honest, that's very sad."

"What makes a good scoop of vanilla ice-cream?"

"I'm glad you asked. I pride myself in being an ice-cream connoisseur. It's about flavour and texture and creaminess and of course, the perfect temperature."

Theodore loved ice-cream, but apparently not as much as Maggie did. She was passionate and enthusiastic and vibrant and happy when she talked about it. She would pause mid sentence to throw in a fun fact or a fond memory and there was no stopping her. He never thought he could listen so intently to someone talk about ice-cream. He loved it.

"Cookies and cream," Maggie said when she was finished making her creations. She slid a tall milkshake glass across the counter. Then she pushed another glass along. "And peanut butter."

Theodore thought the milkshakes he had with Helen and Winston looked incredible, but the ones Maggie presented before him were absolute masterpieces. Swirls of whipped cream towered over the tops of the glasses, decorated with handmade biscuits and chocolate.

"No cherries?" Theodore asked.

"While I know it's not actually true, I am convinced no one likes maraschino cherries and that they're just a pretty decoration. Miniature cookies and novelty shaped chocolates on the other hand, are both beautiful and delicious." Maggie produced four striped paper straws and placed two in each glass. She gestured towards the glasses. "After you."

Theodore leaned in to the peanut butter milkshake and took a generous drink. It was a cold explosion of sweet, silky flavour. It went down so easily and tickled his insides. It was a delightful rush.

"Thoughts?"

"To be honest, I have none. I have transcended to a whole new spiritual level and I am currently incapable of thinking right now."

"You're full of cute compliments," Maggie said, once again glowing that unforgettable pink.

"I'm glad my attempts at flirting are having some charming results," Theodore said. "I'm still a bit new to the dating game."

"Don't worry, so am I," she said. "Well, I guess it's more along the lines of I've-never-played-the-dating-game."

"Not once?"

"Don't sound so surprised," Maggie said, looking down. "Not everyone starts dating when they're a teenager. Besides, I still have a few months until I'm twenty, so I am still technically a teenager. Nineteen is a weird age. Not quite in twenties territory, but feeling a bit mature to be considered a teenager."

"Sounds like you're having a bit of an existential crisis," Theodore teased.

"Only a bit. So I hope you're still okay to hang out with your senior."

"We're only a year and a bit apart," Theodore said. "Besides, the older thing is pretty cool. Is there a reason you never dated?"

"High school boys sucked and I have no regrets not pursuing an extremely toxic relationship with a guy who wore the same pair of socks to classes every day. Not that every high school boy was like that, but at my school... it was a bit too common. Besides, when my mum got sick, dating wasn't a priority."

Theodore thought about it for a moment. "It sounds like you were forced to grow up a bit."

Maggie smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I was."

"Did you at least get to spend a lot of time with your mum?"

This time, Maggie's smile was bigger, brighter, the corner's of her lips reaching for the stars in her eyes. "I did! I got to spend more birthdays with her, more Christmases, more celebrations. She got to see more of my developing art and we shared stories and meals together. But when your best friend is bed bound, there are only so many activities you can do together."

Theodore did the math and figured Maggie would have been right at the end of high school when her mother passed away. He realised just how much of her youth she would have missed, like eighteenth birthday parties and graduation celebrations.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked quietly.

"Lots," he answered just as softly.

"Do you always think about lots?"

"Constantly."

Maggie sat there and nodded. Theodore didn't know it, but Maggie learnt something valuable that night. She discovered a small way to love him. And although Maggie didn't know it either, he had done the same for her.