Poster Love

The air smelled heavily of garbage and no one around Stiven seemed to notice. But the stench drove him mad. So much so, that he completely tuned out the ongoing toasts for the bride and groom, and chose to investigate instead. He turned his face to each side of him and inhaled, fully expecting his very old aunt to be the culprit. No such luck, he only managed to steal a crooked smile from aunt Gloria. This time he leaned forward, careful to not attract attention, and smelled the peony centerpiece. The funky floral fragrance slapped his face, and that was enough to send Stiven to the open bar. 

He chose a corner barstool and waited for the long line to clear. He watched the bartender and inspected her tattoo sleeve- traditional style. The tattoos reminded him of the 1950’s movie posters he cut up for his collages. He liked her style. And he was surprised his sister Lina let the bartender slide with having her sleeves rolled up. Lina turned into somewhat of a ‘bridezilla’ during the wedding’s planning and wanted everything perfect. Everything from the centerpieces to the bartender’s uniform. 

Lina came over and planted a big kiss on Stiven’s cheek. He still remembered the day he unintentionally introduced the bride and groom. A year ago, he’d been invited to showcase his collages into a small art exhibit. His specialty was art pieces made of cut up vintage posters. It was his first art exhibit, and the thought of no one showing up made his cheeks flush. Just to be safe, he sent an invitation to everyone on his contact list and hoped for the best. 

The night of, he stood next to his pieces, constantly scanning the room for a familiar face. But he knew no one, and he almost decided to go home, until Lina showed up. She snapped a picture of Stiven next to his pieces for mom, who wouldn’t miss this for the world, but lived two states away. Another— less familiar— face walked up to Stiven and congratulated him on his work. 

Unfortunately, Stiven couldn’t remember who the guy was, or how the man knew his name, or how Stiven even had his phone number.

Lina and the guy stared at one another, with a smile on both their faces. They stood in an awkward silence, and Stiven introduced them the best he could.

“This is my sister Lina. Lina, this is…well you can introduce yourself.”

“Amir. We know each other from work. Nice to meet you Lina, you look like a prettier version of your brother.”

The light bulb in Stiven’s head finally went off. He worked through an agency as a furniture assembler, and they sent him over to Amir’s downtown apartment quite a few times. Coincidentally, the vintage posters Amir had once given to Stiven were now a part of his exhibit. After the exhibit was over, the three of them headed to a nearby bar. Drinks on Amir. A year later, Amir and Lina were getting married, and Stiven was the best man.

The line at the bar finally died down, and Stiven waved to the bartender. She walked over, after sneaking a puff of her vape now that the bar was empty and the bride was out of sight. He glared at her bare vest.

“Aren’t you supposed to be wearing a name tag?”

“It’s in my pocket.” 

Her ability to defy his sister’s orders impressed him. 

“Maybe you should put it on before bridezilla throws a fit.”

The bartender hesitated, not taking kindly to his unnecessary suggestion. But she pulled out her name tag nevertheless. Fatima. Cute, Stiven thought.

Fatima and Stiven regarded each other for a moment, before she asked “So?” with the most annoyed tone she could muster.

“So what?”

“So what do you want to drink?”

“Oh. I’ll have a Mango Mojito. Please.”

Fatima filled a glass with ice and reached for the mango nectar. A mischievous thought suddenly consumed her. She thought about teaching Stiven a little lesson for bossing her around. Fatima’s hand hovered over the mango nectar for a moment and she grabbed the next bottle over instead. She poured a few ounces of passion fruit purée into his glass and once she finished the cocktail, she set it down in front of him. Fatima didn’t want to be there when he demanded a new drink, so she walked away, and looked for a coworker to replace her spot while she “used the restroom.”

Fatima found her coworker Benny behind the salad station. Benny was 20, and about 5 years younger than Fatima. They met at Borough of Manhattan Community College, where Fatima chose to return to school— 6 years after she had dropped out. She chose a school outside of her borough, hoping to avoid anyone she knew from high school. Benny and Fatima quickly became close friends, and when a position opened up at the catering company he worked for, he made sure to get Fatima in. 

Benny wasn’t 21 yet, he wasn’t allowed to bartend, but Fatima begged. “No one will find out.” They took one look around, everyone had already ate— the salad station didn’t need tending to anymore. And surely no one would get mad at a bartender for using the restroom. Benny stationed himself behind the bar, and Fatima set out for the entrance of the building. 

Just then Stiven walked over to Benny and asked about Fatima.

“She went to the bathroom.”

“Christ.”

Stiven decided at once that Fatima should be the one to replace his drink. She messed up his order after all— not Benny. He sat on the corner barstool once again and waited for Fatima. 

It’d been close to 15 minutes, and all the ice in Stiven’s glass had already melted. From his seat, he had a view of the restroom, and he tried not to stare. He didn’t want to look like a creep. Nonetheless, he saw multiple women walk in and out of the restroom, but none Fatima. He remembered watching Fatima sneak a hit of her vape before taking his order. Stiven found himself wandering outside, almost without thought. 

The night breeze carried a delightful scent of watermelon, miles better than the smell of the peony centerpieces. Stiven recognized the scent, he had smelled it earlier over at the bar. He turned the corner and found Fatima seated next to a 5 ft heart-shaped topiary. The topiary was a gift from the New York Botanical Garden to Amir. Stiven was ready to give Fatima a piece of his mind, but when she turned to look at him, his cheeks flushed and he shy’d away. He walked over to her anyway, but his anger ceased and he didn’t really care about the drink anymore. 

Fatima rolled her eyes. Surely he’d come to tell her she was vaping in a ‘smoke-free zone.’ Or he’d come back to pester her about giving him the wrong drink. She almost forgot about that, and it made her chuckle. Stiven was practically next to Fatima now, and she let out a big sigh, hoping to demonstrate her aversion for his presence. Her hostility intrigued Stiven, and he found himself wanting to push her buttons a bit further. 

“You made me the wrong drink.”

“I don’t remember making you any drink at all.”

Stiven didn’t know whether Fatima was pretending to not remember him, or if he really was that forgettable. Her comment stung, and he chose fire. 

“I could just tell your boss you’ve been vaping for the last 20 minutes. Oh and that you don’t know how to make a mojito.”

“You know, I find it pretty weird that instead of asking Benny for a new drink, you chose to stalk me. If I didn’t know better I would think you have a crush on me.”

Fatima stuffed the vape into her back pocket and walked back toward the venue. She turned back to look at Stiven before stepping into the building. He watched her silently, and she stuck her tongue out. Still no reaction. She flicked him off and ran inside. That should’ve upset Stiven, but he wanted to watch her do it all again.

Two weeks had passed since the wedding and Fatima’s school semester ended. Benny and her decided to move into a two-bedroom apartment together. She’d managed to box up most of her clutter and get rid of the unnecessary. Still, under her desk sat a bin full of posters, labeled ‘Greece.’ Fatima had plans to major in History when she transferred to a 4-year college. She’d had a fascination for the Classical Era since she was a little girl. The obsession started when Fatima’s mom used to drop her off at her grandma’s house— the living room walls were covered in Ancient Greek paintings.

Fatima had bought about 20 Greece vintage travel posters when she was 18. She hung them up all around her dorm room. But once she dropped out and moved out of the dorm, the posters sat under her desk, untouched for the next 6 years. She browsed through them and a sense of nostalgia hit her, making her quite emotional. She planned on donating the posters but wondered whether someone would buy them off her. Maybe if someone were willing to buy them, they’d take greater care of them.

The next day, Fatima posted an ad on marketplace for ‘a bulk of Greek vintage travel posters.’ She didn’t bother unrolling the posters to take a picture of each individually— she was on a time crunch. Her phone chimed not even 20 minutes later. An anonymous user sent a message. They offered her $100 if she would meet up with them and show the posters in person. Fatima didn’t really have the time to meet up with anyone, but the potential buyer was offering her twice the amount she asked for, and she was in desperate need of money. Especially now that she was moving into a new apartment.

Fatima felt a bit foolish sitting in Central Park with a bin full of posters. She’d definitely caught some glances and the potential buyer was definitely more than 25 minutes late. She checked her messages once again, making sure that she had the meet up spot right. The sign in front of her read ‘Strawberry Fields.’ She was at the right place. Maybe the unknown user was a fraud and wasted her time. She stood and grabbed her bin, ready to head back home. Fatima turned around and Stiven stood in front of her. They both let out a slight gasp. Then a chuckle.

“Are those my future Greek vintage travel posters?”