Tuesday, October 18
(Kate)
When I arrive at work, the bell on Three Petunias door tinkles lightly, and I'm met by two sets of eyes taking me in with what can only be described as extreme concern. They're laser-focused on the bruise that bloomed down the left side of my face while I slept last night. It doesn't hurt as bad as it did when I woke up this morning, but it looks angry from temple to jawbone. What really hurts is the rest of my body...all of it. If I could put ibuprofen in a drip and mainline it, I would. Though my body did agree to let me sleep for almost four hours, it was unhappy with me on a whole new level when I dragged it out of bed for class. Needless to say, my body and I aren't on speaking terms today. I hope we can be friends again someday.
Clay's face crumples and tears pool in his eyes. "Oh, Katherine, I'm so sorry. Look at your face."
I haven't seen Clay yet today. He was still sleeping when I left for class this morning, and he wasn't in his room when I stopped around noon to check on him. "Clay, how are you doing today?" I don't want to talk about me.
"I feel like I got run over by a steamroller and left on the side of the road to die."
I can relate.
"Well, no offense, but you look like you got run over by a steamroller, sweetie." The cuts on his face aren't as bad as they were last night, but his bottom lip and right cheek are puffy and unnatural shades of red and purple.
He smiles a little. "I just wanted to say thank you again for everything you did last night."
"That's not necessary, Clay."
He kisses me on my good cheek. "It is. You're the first real friend I've ever had, Katherine. And I'm quite certain that when I'm sitting in a rocking chair somewhere as an impeccably-dressed elderly gentleman, I'll look back on my fabulously successful life and know without a shadow of a doubt that I could not have been blessed with a better friend than you."
If I open my mouth to let words out, tears will come with them. I don't cry. I nod instead.
Clayton turns and wiggles his fingers at Shelly. "Toodle-loo, dancing queen," he says as he walks away.
Shelly doesn't even have a smartass comeback. She just looks sad.
I know by the way Shelly's watching me that Clay told her what happened. Everything. I'd rather no one knew, but at least I don't have to re-hash it. "Shelly, I'm fine. Can we talk about something else this afternoon?" I smile so she knows I'm not trying to be a bitch. "Let's get to work."
She nods and I know it's killing her not to say anything, but I love her for it. "I need to make a few deliveries this afternoon. Can you handle this place on your own today?"
"Absolutely." As she's walking out the door, I add, "Please don't tell Keller about this," gesturing to my face. "I've been barraged with pity glances all day." I hesitate, then add, "Like you're doing right now." She looks away. "And it makes me uncomfortable. I hate pity. It drains the life out of me." It really does.
She exhales loudly. She sounds more defeated than irritated. After a few beats, she nods agreement and walks out the door.
I settle into my work. I'm slower than usual given the fact that I'm moving at the pace of a ninety-year-old recovering from double hip replacement surgery.
The bell rings; customer alert. My back is to the door, and my hands are temporarily held hostage by the ribbon I'm trying to fashion into a bow around a vase of roses. "I'll be with you in just a sec," I call over my shoulder.
"So, you didn't come to see me this morning. What gives? Do I need to resort to blackmail or bribery?" It's Keller. What's he doing here?
I keep my back to him as I respond. "Dude, my addiction is strong, but can also be sated with free, though considerably less tasty, coffee from the cafeteria. Besides, I was running late." Bow in place, I turn to face him and brace for the shock. "What's up?"
He sucks in a breath. "Christ, Katie, what happened to you?"
I'm thankful the bruises on my stomach and hip, which are yellowing spectacularly, are hidden beneath my clothing and not on full display, or he'd really freak out. "Would you believe me if I told you I fell down a flight of stairs?"
His lips are pressed together so tightly that they become a thin, white line; there's both fear and rage in his eyes. He shakes his head.
"Took up bull riding?"
"Nope."
"Underground fight club?"
"We're getting warmer. Who's the bastard who did this to you?"
Why is it that when a woman has bruises, especially on her face, people assume they were put there through domestic violence? I'm guilty of jumping to the same conclusions myself. It's a societal assumption, unfortunately born out of too frequent reality. "It's not what you think." I let out a huff of exasperation. "There was a disgusting mixture of ignorance, hatred, and alcohol unleashed on my friend, Clayton, very early this morning." I point to my face. "This was a little spillover. I'm fine, Keller."
The fear and anger has vanished from his eyes and protectiveness floods in. At least it's not pity. "This is not fine." I look down and see that his hands are gripping the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles are white.
I reach across the counter and rub my palms over his clenched hands. "Hey, relax. I'm okay. Really."
He shakes his head and pulls off his wool knit hat and his hair sticks up in all directions. I'm distracted. Even hat hair looks good on him. I can't help but smile.
"What are you smiling at?" he asks, head tilted.
My smile widens. "Your hair. You have great hair."
He reaches up and runs his fingers through it, trying unsuccessfully to tame it down. Still, I think his hair is one of the most attractive things about him. He clears his throat and his cheeks flush.
"What can I help you with, Keller?" Now that the whole bruise unveiling is out of the way, I can't deny that I'm happy to see him.
He bites his cheek like he's not sure how to answer or maybe he's just not done with the previous topic. "You sure you're okay? Because I hurt just standing here looking at that bruise."
I put it to bed. "I'm okay."
He nods but he still looks torn. He proceeds anyway. "I've been sent on a romantic errand by Rome. He asked me to pick up an orchid for Dan. It's their anniversary, and he wants to take it home to him tonight. He was going to come down here at lunch, but he couldn't get away. So, do you have anything like that?"
I come out from behind the counter, and together we pick out a white orchid from the display shelves. After he pays for it, I fashion a thick tube of craft paper around it to help protect it from the cold.
He hesitates at the door. "So," he clears his throat, "you should stop by Grounds tomorrow morning. I'll buy you a cup of coffee. You know, so you don't have to drink that poison from the cafeteria two days in a row."
I laugh. "I try to keep myself on a fairly strict rotation to avoid that. I'll see you tomorrow. But, I'm paying. Besides, I still owe you for the Milwaukee trip—"
He interrupts. "No, you don't."
I smile. He doesn't know me. Though he insists on not taking money, I'll find a way to make it up to him. "Pretty soon I'll be so indebted to you you'll have to take me on as your personal slave to work it off."
"Mmm." His eyes brighten. "There's a lot I could do with that."
I smile. "Not so fast. I'd prefer to stick to a cash deal. I don't have a lot of free time to do your dirty work."
His smile goes crooked. "Dirty work? Even better." He winks and opens the door.
I shake my head, but my insides have turned to mush. I know nothing can ever happen between the two of us, but God I love flirting with this boy.
"I need a haircut. Cut my hair and we'll be even," he offers from the door.
"I don't know how to cut hair. A bad haircut would definitely not make us even."
"I trust you."
That makes me so happy to hear. Trust is important to me. "You do?"
"With my life...and my hair. You free Friday night?"
I nod. "Yup."
"Eight o'clock?"
I nod again. "Sounds good."
"Your place or mine?"
I know it's not a date, but you don't know how much I like Keller asking me that question. "Friday nights at casa de Kate and Sugar are unpredictable. So yours."
He smiles. "Excellent. Bye, Katie."
"Bye, Keller."