Flypaper

Flypaper:
I watched her lace up her roller skates from across the rink. I had always silently admired her style and demeanor, but that night, I saw her as something special. Her dark hair and eyes, and her easy smile, discouraged me to look elsewhere.
She’s come into my store before. I’ve served her coffee. I’ve also seen her at some random social functions and bars. I vaguely remember seeing her with someone. Presumably a boyfriend. She was with a group of women that night. They had gathered around a table off to the side of the rink.
“C’mon let’s get our skates,” a friend of mine said.
“Apparently, their all out of size elevens.” That was a lie. The truth is I never learned to master pretty much anything with wheels. Bikes, skates, skateboards. I like to think growing up with scoliosis prevented me form having those types of fun, but at some point I know I was just being a pussy. I’m obviously still ashamed of it.
The group I was with all found their sizes. I had hoped at least one of them hadn’t planned on skating, but no. I sat quietly and watched people I know acknowledge me by dancing a little as they skated by. They cycled around over and over doing the same thing. I felt like a mom, whose kids wave to her every time they pass. But then she rolled past.
She wore knee high red and white striped socks, little red seventies athletic shorts, a brown sweater, and a fluffy white scarf. A random assortment of garments, orchestrated perfectly. I began to create personal attributes for her. First, I decided, she isn’t conventional or boring. She’s obviously a unique, charismatic woman, and probably has a keen intuition of people. Quirky, with a certain zest to life. I bet she’s pretty smart. She had already been smiling, when she noticed me ever so briefly. A look of distant recognition, I hoped.
After a few songs, she disappeared from the floor. I felt I couldn’t wave to my friends anymore, so I occupied myself with the claw-game. You know, you maneuver the claw around a glass case and hope the claw grabs some cheap stuffed-animal, which never actually happens. Yeah, that one. I had wasted a couple of dollars on it, when I saw her skate over my way. She waved to me, smiling.
“Hey, you work at that coffee shop, right?” She was a little out of breath.
“Yeah, I remember seeing you there. How have you been?” I never really know what to say.
“Good thanks. Listen, you know Mitchell Baines, right?”
“Sure, I’ve known Mitchell for along time. He hangs out at the store a lot. Good guy.”
“Do you know his number by chance?”
Dammit.
“No, sorry. I believe he said his service was turned off right now.” The truth. “I could tell him to call you if I see him.” A lie.
“Nah, that’s okay. I was just curious if he was going to the after party tonight. Oh, well. See ya.” she rolled away.

The next night I sat at work, reading. It was dusk and it was raining, and the combination made everything outside look a different shade of blue. A flare of a bright-red felt overcoat, cut through the evening mist, and into the shop. It was her. She held a wet newspaper over her head as she entered. She lifted her soft brown eyes, and grinned slyly. She was beautiful.
I wanted to ask her to live with me far from there, where we would grow old together, nestled next to the thousand fires I would build for her. But, unprepared, I only muttered “Hi there.”
“Hello.”
“How was the after party?” I asked.
“I didn’t actually go in. The bar was really crowded, so my friends and I found Mitchell and took off.”
“I see. So you found him after all.” I tried hard to mask my disappointment.
“Yeah. He’ll be here any minute. We’re going to have dinner at the new restaurant down the street.”
I nodded, resisting all temptations to manipulate her opinion of Mitchell. He was a good guy. And I wouldn’t want that done to me. I offered to make her something while she waited. She declined, and I returned to my book. A few minutes later Mitchell burst in from the rain.
“Hey,” he panted to her. “You ready, I got the car running, let’s go. See ya B.” He waved to me as they shuffled out the door.

Later that night, I closed the store and went to the backroom to count the money. Shortly into it, a knock sounded at the front door. Normally, it’s usually a friend or a desperate coffee drinker, but again it was her.
I let her in and asked how I could help her. She looked like she’d been crying.
“Can I use the phone? That asshole left me stranded at the restaurant, can you believe that?”
Thank you, lord.
“Terrible,” I shook my head. “I’m sorry. Here, sit down.” I handed her the phone and prepared some calming tea for her as she dialed.
“Mitchell, you prick! That’s it! Never call me again! You bastard!” She slammed the phone upon the tabletop.
I brought over the tea and sat across from her. She looked at me.
“You’re awfully nice. What’s your name, anyway?”
We talked there for a long time. Over an hour, easy. The tea had calmed her, and my line of questioning successfully steered her clear of any memory of the suddenly wicked Mitchell.
“Would you mind walking me home? It’s not far.”
Are you kidding me?
“Of course,” I said lovingly. I had gained confidence.
We strolled slowly, neither of us in a rush to end our unintended evening together. Finally, we arrived at her apartment. She looked away and grinned.
“I have some old sci-fi movies I was going to watch. You interested?”
Eureka!!!
“Absolutely. I love sci-fi movies.” The truth.
We watched movies for about a half-an-hour, and then began to speak softly to each other about the ironic destiny our evening had taken. The rest of the night was magic.

In the morning we lazed about in bed, thinking aloud of how perfect it felt to be there. She said she felt freer than ever, and wanted to do something new, with me. I asked if she’d been to the new playhouse in town.
“No, silly. I mean something big. Life changing, you know?”
“What did you have in mind.”
She smiled broadly, “Let’s go away together, to Sicily. I have family there. I’d been thinking of going for awhile, but now I’m convinced I should go, with you. How about it?”
I nearly choked. “Are you serious? But, you just met...this is a big thing, I mean...okay lets do it.”
She hugged me around the neck. Her body radiated beauty in the yellow morning sunshine. My mind was made up. Try and stop me, I thought.
My friends and family were understandably confused. Who? What? Where? It sounded more and more Disney like each time I explained it. We were leaving in a week. I was busy throughout, quitting my job, selling any possession worth anything at all, and cashing in on favors from everybody who owed them. I racked up just enough to make it happen, and said my arrivederci’. The plan was to meet her at the airport, where she had our tickets. It seemed unreal how easy it had all unfolded. My wife took the news the worst.
I waited with bursting excitement at the gate where we were to meet. My newfound love and I, braving a new world together, leaving behind a wasteland, starting life over again. I wanted to shout just thinking about it.
I became nervous when our ETD came closer. I stared at the run way, figuring a watched pot never boils. Someone said my name, and it damn sure wasn’t her. I turned, and felt my heart sink.
“Mitchell?”
“Hey, buddy. Are you excited about our trip?”
“Our trip?” I could feel the blood drain out of my head and I became a little woozy.
“Yeah, Josephine said she couldn’t make it, so she gave me her ticket. Here’s yours. Me and you buddy. Italy here we come! We might never come back.”
“No. Wait. What? She couldn’t make it? What happened? I thought she hated you? Wait.” My mind was spinning out of control.
“Doesn’t matter, dude. We’re freaking going. Yeah boy!” He pumped his fist.
“I don’t want to go with you.” Mitchell leaned in as I said this.
“What’s that?”
“I said, I don’t want to go with you. I want to go with her. I don’t want this ticket if she’s not going. Besides, this one has your name on it.” I was breaking down. I handed the ticket back to him, and began to trudge away, horrified.. I heard her laugh behind me. I spun around, and swear I saw her for just a second, holding Mitchell’s arm as they walked into the corridor leading to the plane. I swear I saw her.
The airline had no record of me owning a ticket, and wasn’t giving me any money back.
“How about Mitchell Baines?” I whimpered to the old lady behind the glass.
“Mr. Baines purchased two one-way tickets to Palermo three months ago. There’s nothing we can do sir, I’m sorry.”
I walked, as in a trance, all the way home that day, to a house that had been sold to strangers. The whole way, I repeated aloud to myself over and over again, “she’ll be back.”