Strangers

The car has to swerve to avoid hitting me.

Of course, I never notice that. I just walk brazenly across the road. The only thing I pay any attention to is music blasting into my ears. I keep walking and tuning out the world glaring at anyone who dares to meet my gaze until I make it to the bus stop. I wasn’t always this anti-social, not until my parents got divorced and started to argue over me. Not until my world broke apart. I power walk the next few steps to the bus-stop and yank my ear-phones out of my ears and stuff them into my pocket.

The raincoat digs into my neck as I tug at the hood, trying to cover my face, failing miserably. Long, wet strands of hair stick to my face as drops of water roll down my cheekbone, highlighting my cheek’s rosiness. The tips of my ears turned bright pink as I tried and failed to pull the flimsy material over my head. My hand jerks, pulling the hood over my head, providing me with minimal but useless protection from the heavy raindrops pounding on the ground. I see someone passing me, out of the corner of my eye. I turn around to face them. Wild kinky red hair with a colorful paint-spattered shirt.

I stare for a second at her gaudy and vivid clothes, smiling at myself. I let my mind linger for a second when I saw her turn back. She looks at me with big emerald eyes that remind me of springtime. She smiles and looks at me up and down. I stare down at my dingy oversized hoodie and stained black sweatpants. I meet her eyes and she walks toward me, sticking a hand out.

“Hi, my name is Sage” She sticks out her hand, and I see her nails picked clean and splattered with stickers covering their sturdy shell. Every aspect of this girl seems colorful. She wears a bright yellow dress and her hair is dyed a rainbow of colors. She’s smiling, and there is a glimmer of joy in her eyes that can’t be concealed.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Myra.” I shake her hand gingerly and watch as she pulls something out of her purse. It’s a coupon for the new cafe downtown everyone’s going crazy about.

“Wanna go?” She holds the wrinkled brown coupon up and looks at me with an optimistic grin. The rain hits the paper and it droops, made nearly unrecognizable. She detects this and shoves it into the pocket of her sweatpants. I smile back and we begin walking. We both know the coupon is no longer valid, but that doesn’t stop her from feeling like she’s won the battle. I’m just happy she’s with me and that’s enough.

I nod and she walks up to me. She’s a whole head shorter than me but walks in long strides, unlike my nervous shuffles. Her hair is frizzy like it’s been brushed out multiple times. It seems naturally red and compliments her skin color, a light brown with hazel freckles sprinkled throughout her cheeks.

She notices me looking at her and says, “What’s something you want to do but can’t?”

I watched her twist her fingers in anticipation and say, “Well, ever since I was a kid I would’ve enjoyed traveling to New York. Miles away, a pretty stupid wish, but still, I’d love to see it.” I managed to say. My fingernails dig into my palm as I wait nervously for her response.

“You’ve never been?” she asks. Her brow raises and I wonder if I’m missing out.

I pull my hood closer to my head and say, “Nope.” When I see her surprise I nearly stutter before responding , “I didn’t have much of an adventurous and traveling kind of childhood.” She looks at me with understanding in her eyes and I find myself wanting to tell her more. I took a deep breath before finally saying, “It was full of love, but it was not the kind of life I wanted for myself.”

She stops walking and says, “We’ve arrived. I’ve heard this place is a favorite for coffee. Would you like a cup? It’s on me.” I smiled and thanked her, grateful for the distraction. We stepped inside the café, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I was ready to start the next chapter of my life.

“I-I’ll take it. Can’t resist a cup of coffee,” I shiver, the cold wind getting to me.

She notices and waves me inside the shop.

As soon as I entered, a blast of heat and a comforting aroma hit me. Coffee, vanilla, and cinnamon envelope my senses. All of the different variants swirl into one scent that doesn’t have a name but instead, an abundance of memories, being inside drinking hot chocolate and cinnamon on a cold winter day, wrapped in a blanket near a fireplace, the warmth starting to melt away your worries.

“Um, Myra?” Sage anxiously waves at me from a free table.

I take a detour from my stroll down memory lane and walk over to her with a newfound smile reserved for the mysterious strangers who walk into my life. Although there hasn’t been much of that lately.

As we sit down I gaze around the store with awe, the cafe looks something straight out of 1950. With checkered tablecloths and oak tables and floors the cafe has a pleasant feeling of homeliness and nostalgia. The walls are covered in old ads that children from the 90’s probably grew up seeing.

I pull out a seat and sit down as a waitress walks over to our table and hands us an old menu with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Sooo,” Sage draws out the o and she looks at me, clearly trying to get my attention. “How’d you end up at Lowry Street bus station? That street has a reputation for kidnappings and graffiti,” Her pupils dilate, a knowing tell of being excited.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and looked at her. “I don’t know, I just wanted to get out of the house, get some fresh air. I just followed the music you could say,” I laugh a little and continue, “I was going nowhere, until I saw you. Then you know the rest.” A light smile rested on my face, something that hadn’t happened for a while.

“Oh, well then I guess it was a good thing you met me!” Her dimples flash as a smile fills her face, making her look like a kid. “Anyways, did you see the menu? Six dollars for a cup of coffee? You have gotta be kidding me,” Sage clicks her tongue and hands me the menu.

Various items were listed but one item at the bottom stood out. In a big bold font it read ‘FREE ICE CREAM ! Eat the Supreme Ice Cream Bowl and earn 5 months of free ice cream! If you don’t finish the bowl in an hour, you must pay $40 dollars.’ I show this to her and she raises a questioning brow. I say nothing to her but give a determined nod, making her stifle a laugh.

“E-excuse me?” Sage calls out to a waiter nearby, he turns and walks over, almost robotically and says, “Your order please?” He’s wearing a red and white striped hat, nearly completely out of the color scheme of the place but I don’t have enough time to judge his outfit when I hear Sage say, “The Supreme Ice Cream Bowl please!” She says it a bit too loud and it seems to echo across the store.

“A challenger?” The waiter smiles and says, “Listen, hear everyone!” He comes closer and asks, “What are your names?”

Sage eagerly responds “Myra and Sage,” she rushes and nearly stumbles over her words.

“Myra and Sage challenge the Supreme Ice Cream Bowl!” He yells out to the cafe. Everyone looks eagerly over at our table and a crowd starts to form. “Hit ‘em with it Jack!”

A man in a blue uniform hands us our bowl of ice cream and leaves, coming back with an old video recorded.

The bowl was huge and had various colors of ice cream piled over each other. Along with ice cream cones, cookies and cotton candy, the thing was massive dripping with sticky ice cream. “And your time starts… NOW!” I hear a voice say.

Immediately Sage and I started to dig enthusiastically at the food, stuffing whatever we could into our stomachs. I tore at the cotton candy and swallowed it as fast as I could stuff the mixture into my mouth.Sage was using an empty glass to drink the ice cream goo.

I heard a clunk next to me as another waiter placed down glasses of ice cold water. We grabbed at it and began gulping it down along with the food. After what seemed like a few hours the bowl was done.

Sage looked at me with a look of victory, but was obviously stopped as a brain freeze hit us.

“Your time has ended! Congratulations you have finished the challenge!” We heard a snap as they took a photo of us. Neither of us cared about the people or the crowd but instead the person in front of us. We get up and start to walk outside, where it’s stopped raining. I push open the door and Sage follows.

“Can I have your number?” Sage asks abruptly.

“Of course, it’s 923-087-8972.”

“Thanks,” She replies, she seems to be drawing out something when she says, “New York next?”

I can’t help but smile, “Definitely,” we hug and I can feel her heartbeat, fast but steady. We linger for a moment and leave. Not saying anything but instead leaving the moment simple and magical, making me wonder, what’s next?

My adventures with this girl are certainly not over, and I can tell this is just the beginning.