Ihad grown up with Scott. Both of us lacked siblings and being three years hissenior, I played the part as an older brother to him during the years when ourfamilies were inseparable. The bond had remained solid well into our teens, andthen I had gone off to college, fell in love and settled into my own life,separate from the one I had at home. Our parents had remained close, but Scottand I let the tethers holding our bond together disintegrate with the changingof our lives. More specifically, he had developed a taste for marijuana, and Iwas busy being in love with a judgmental woman who didn’t care for his choiceof habits.
Itwasn’t until I was single once again that our friendship reignited, no longerunder the control of the woman who claimed my heart for too long, but elevenyears was a long time, and I had to settle for the unfortunate fact that itwould unlikely ever be the way it had been when we were kids. The painful proofwas in the way I stood there, without a clue of what to say.
“So…” I began, as I rifled through the small-talk-topics at my disposal, coming upempty while my fingers traced the outline of the cash register.
Andas though the universe could sense the awkwardness hovering around the baristabar, I felt myself struck in the side of the leg by a moving object. The edgeof my kneecap pulsed with pain as my assailant crashed to the floor with awail, and I looked down to find myself staring at a little girl; blonde andfrantic with hands clutched to her face, a stuffed giraffe laying at her side.
InstinctivelyI knelt down, preparing to assess the situation.
“I-isshe okay?” Scott asked, suddenly standing over me, his hands nervously workinginside the sleeves of his oversized sweater.
Iglanced up at him incredulously. Of all the stupid questions.
“Sweetheart,are you hurt?” I asked in a gentle voice, hovering my hands over her withcaution, undecided on what I should do with them.
Shecontinued to cry in hysterics, and I noticed a trickle of blood coming fromunderneath her hands. Although my mind raced with the possible lawsuits I knewabsolutely nothing about, I asked without panic, “Can you move your hands, andlet me take a look?” When she refused, I took a chance and gently pried herhands away from her face to reveal a bloody nose and a fat lip.
Scottrushed to grab a few napkins, handed them down to me, and went to fetch someice for her lip. Perhaps feeling a little too at ease with the little girl, Ipulled her up into a seated position and wiped up the blood that ran over herlips. Gently tilting her head back, I pinched the bridge of her nose. Herhysterics had subsided into controlled sobs, and her wide brown eyes watched mewith caution. Evidently, the Stranger Danger had settled in.
Ilifted my head to quickly look around the store for any sign of a personmissing a child. “Honey, where is your mommy or …”
“Anna!Oh, my God!”
Iwas startled by the sudden voice of a disheveled woman. She fell to her kneesbeside me, more of her dark brown hair falling out of her already messyponytail. Her hands immediately went to the pudgy cheeks, turning her faceunintentionally out of my fingers’ grasp, and the little nose went un-pinched.A slow drop of blood appeared at the entrance of her nostril, and I reachedover to hold her nose shut again, not bothering to wonder if I should keep myhands off this woman’s daughter.
Scottreturned with the icepack and handed it to the woman. Through her frazzledpanic, she looked at it curiously in her hands. Understanding theworryshe must have gone through, only to find her childbloodied and screaming on the floor, I spoke to her gently and instructed herto use it for the girl’s lip. That’s when she finally acknowledged my presence,turning to face me. If there was ever a moment to strike me breathless, it wasthat one, and it did.
Shewas a pale beacon of effortless beauty, without a mask of makeup to enhance ordisguise. The delicate plains of her high cheekbones radiated with the naturalflush of excitement from losing her child, while a set of full lips appeared redand bitten, and in the center of it all was a slender nose that came to aperfect point. I caught myself gazing into the melted chocolate pools of hereyes, clouded by a sadness I was all too familiar with, and I realized, had Ibelieved in love at first sight, I had just fallen face first into it.
ButI didn’t believe in love at first sight.
“U-uh,”I stammered, catching myself staring at her, and diverted my gaze to the child,desperately trying to pull myself together as I found my voice. “She ran rightinto me. Hit my knee pretty hard. I don’t think her nose is broken, but I’malso not a doctor.”
Surelyshe was aware that I was a writer, and yet, despite my lack of a PhD, the womanseemed to emit a sigh of relief, placing a hand on my arm before applying theicepack on Anna’s lip.
“Thankyou so much. She just ran off. God, sheneverdoes that.” She squeezedher eyes shut, letting out a long sigh. “It’s just been one of those years, youknow?”
Thedark circles under her eyes suggested she was in dire need of a stiff drink anda long, uninterrupted nap. I suppose I could have asked her out for a drink, orat the very least bought her a cup of coffee. But I bit my tongue, tellingmyself that it would never end well, and instead nodded.
“I’vehad those before,” I said with a smile.
Shesmiled at me warmly, pushing the sadness aside for just a few moments, andtouched my arm once again. “Thank you,” she repeated.
Sheturned her attention to Anna. I removed my fingers from her nose, and took theice pack from her lip. It appeared that she would survive the ordeal when sheimmediately reached for the raggedy giraffe and hugged the floppy body to herchest.
“Youready to go home, Anna Banana?”
Annanodded eagerly, and I couldn’t say I blamed her after all the excitement. Sheclimbed into the arms of her mother, nuzzling her battered face into the hollowof her neck. Ignoring the shamefuljealousyIimmediately felt, I stood then, extending a hand to help pull the woman to herfeet with the little girl in tow. As she laid her small hand in mine, Iimagined that a current of electricity passed from her body into mine, bringingme instantly to life, as though I had been dead for too long.
Amoment passed with us standing awkwardly. I realized that maybe fate hadgranted me another chance to throw myself out there and ask her out for adrink, but it dawned on me that she was more than likely married. Rejectionseemed like a horrible way to start my time back home.
Anotherme, another life.
“Thankyou again,” she finally said, for a third time. She looked up at me, at least afoot from where she stood. “Say thank you to the nice man, Anna.”
Niceman. Ibasked in that brief moment of anonymity, of being just an ordinary person inan ordinary store—of being anice man. Maybe, I realized, she reallydidn’t know who I was, and how arrogant it was to assume that she had in thefirst place.
“Sankyew,” Anna said softly, as she looked out for a second from her hiding spotagainst the skin of her mother’s neck.
