I watched in amazement as he fed the fish by hand. I had the best time watching him laugh at the feel of their mouths and describe what it was like. He was really interested in learning about the Koi and their environment. He asked me question after question—intelligent questions that I didn't mind answering. The best part was that he seemed to retain everything I was telling him. He was smart—like some kind of genius.
In the back of my mind, I wondered what he was doing working as a mover. He picked up everything I was telling him so quickly that I actually thought I could get him a job working with me. I knew Lance would hire him in a heartbeat. I could tell just by looking at him that he was strong, too. He wasn't a massive guy, but he was in good shape, and the muscles in his arms and chest were defined. He could start as a tech assistant, cleaning ponds with Lance or Alex, and then work his way up to having his own route. I was sure he could make better money at it than whatever they were paying him to be a mover.
I marveled at the way he learned—the way he remembered everything I was telling him and used the information I gave him to ask even more insightful questions. We talked for what must have been an hour. I had to test and treat the water to make sure it was balanced, and he alternated between watching the fish and watching me work. I had just gone to turn off the hose when he addressed me by my name.
"Do you think I can feed this gold one, Abigail?" he asked. He was standing over the lower pond and he glanced my way. "He looks hungry."
I smiled. "I told you that one would be an aggressive eater," I said. "Sure, you can feed him."
I was close to the shed, so I went in there and got a handful of food. He met me near the door, and I handed it to him. I begged myself not to notice the feel of his hand, but it was no use. He had the hands of a working man—strong, with calluses on his fingers. I took my hand from his so quickly that I ended up dropping some of the food.
"Oh, whoa," he said as some of the food fell to the ground.
"Sorry," I said, taking off toward the pond so that I could start packing my things.
He followed me.
"How'd you know my name?" I asked.
"It's on your shirt."
I didn't even have to glance at my chest. I knew he was right. I was wearing my work uniform, and my name was embroidered on my shirt.
"Unless you're wearing someone else's clothes," he added.
"I wish I was right now," I said.
"What's that mean?"
"I'm nasty," I said. "I actually have to go by my house and take a quick shower before I head to my next job. It's at a really nice hotel, and I don't think I should go in there smelling like this."
"You're welcome to shower here," he said.
He sounded like he was actually serious, and I gave him a sideways glance because of it. "Thanks," I said somewhat sarcastically. I didn't want to point it out, but he obviously had no right to offer me the use of this shower. I started to laugh about it, but he still wasn't breaking a smile. He was stooped at the edge of the lower pond, handfeeding the fish, and he made a joke about naming the yellow Chagoi "Piggy" or "Oinker".
I didn't respond.
I was already feeling weird about hanging out with him for so long. We weren't doing anything wrong, but I was really attracted to him, and I was having such a good time getting to know him that I was scared that the cellist would come home and catch us yuckin' it up in her backyard.
Then it hit me.
The shower comment wasn't the first thing he said that seemed entitled—he had offered me a drink, too, and it seemed like there were a few other things that made me wonder.
Maybe this guy had every right to offer me the use of the shower.
Maybe he was staying in this house.
Maybe he wasn’t a mover at all.
Maybe the cellist was his wife!
The thought made my heart drop.
I glanced at his hand, searching for a ring.
There wasn't one.
I tried to remember the things he said during the course of our conversation, but everything was a jumble in my mind.
"I'm Ash, by the way," he said, dusting his hands off once he was done feeding the fish.
He held his hand out, and I shook it. "Abigail Spencer," I said feeling even more anxious than before.
He smiled.
Goodness. The sight of it had my heart pounding. "Ash, like Ash Ketchum?" I asked. I let out a little nervous laugh afterward. I hated myself for being such a big dork. Leave it to me to make a Pokémon joke to a person who knew what year Bach was born.
"Yeah, like Ash Ketchum," he said with a smile. "I'm pretty impressed that you knew that."
"Why?"
"Because it's mostly adolescent boys who know that name."
"I have a sixteen-year-old brother," I said.
He nodded as if that explained everything, and I shrugged.
"He doesn’t really like Pokémon, though," I said. "I just knew the main character's name was Ash Ketchum. I remember hearing it somewhere."
I sincerely had a good time with this guy, Ash. It had been a pleasurable experience getting to know him. I thought he was so down-to-earth and easy to talk to. Even more than that, he was extremely good-looking, and for a while, I had actually talked myself into believing I had a chance with him—that maybe, somehow, our encounter in this stranger's backyard would amount to something.
The worst part of it was that I honestly thought he was attracted to me. I had obviously mistaken his curiosity about fish and his kind nature for something more. I thought he had been noticing me. How embarrassing.
Now it was starting to sink in that he wasn't a mover at all. Now I realized he probably belonged to the cellist. Just because he didn't have a ring didn't mean he wasn't married. I felt nauseated at the realization that a guy I thought to be single was actually taken. That would explain why he was so confident and comfortable and why he knew so much about classical music.
So many things made sense now.
And there I was, smelling like a fish pond and making Pokémon references.
Suddenly, I was in a hurry to leave.
I couldn't get out of there fast enough.
"It was really nice meeting you, Ash," I said with a nod. "It was great talking to you."
"Can I help you to your truck?"
"Oh, no, no, no, I got it. I'm good. I'm just gonna show myself out the way I came in. Thank you."
I began walking across the yard, toward the gate that would take me to the front of the house.
"You can come through the house if you like," he called. "I think it's closer."
I knew it. He was staying here. He wasn't the mover. This was really one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. I had a flashback to a few of the choice things I had said—the moment when I was acting like a fancy person who knew about classical music. I flinched outwardly since my back was toward him. I had to get out of there.
"No thanks," I said, turning to look over my shoulder and smiling with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. "I'm all dirty. It was really nice meeting you, though!"
I closed the gate and walked to my truck as quickly as my feet could take me. I already had plans to fling my things into the back of the truck and take off, and I had almost made it there when I heard someone yell.
"Hey!" he said.
I glanced in the direction of the house and saw that Ash was heading my way with a bag in his hand.
Salt.
It was a bag of salt.
A three-dollar bag of salt.
"I think you forgot something," he said, holding it up.
"I'm sorry," I said. "You could have actually just put that in the shed for the next person. I have about ten-hundred of them at work."
Ten-hundred? Really, Abigail?
Ash approached with the bag, and I stepped toward him to take it.
"Thanks," I said.
"Thanks for making the pond look so good. And for teaching me all that about Koi. It was really fun."
"No problem," I said, smiling. I opened the passenger's side of my truck and tossed everything onto the floorboard. "It was nice meeting you."
"Are you going to come back to change the filter?" he asked.
"Oh, no. The, uh, landlord has a regular guy. I was just filling in for him."
I glanced at him as I walked around to the driver's side. There was something about the way he was looking at me. Regret? Disappointment? It seemed like he could tell I was rushing off and wanted to say something to stop me.
"So, I guess this is it," he said when I hesitated.
"Yeah," I said with a nod. "You can call the shop if you have any problems with the fish, but they should be good." I waved. "Have a good day."
"You too," he said.
He gave me a little wave and took off toward the house. I watched him retreat as I went through the motions of starting the truck and putting it in gear. Even from the back, he was a sight to behold. Maybe it made me a bad person to look at the backside of a man, but I couldn't help it. I looked, and it was impossible not to notice how he walked. He was appealing from every angle. I liked the way he walked, his long confident stride, and his relaxed but straight posture. He looked like an athlete. I could see a cellist marrying a professional athlete.
"Uhhhh!" I let out a groan and clinched my fists as I peeled my eyes off of the guy and went back to operating my truck. Why did he have to be taken? And why, oh why, did I have to say all that nonsense about Bach? I had seriously opened my mouth and let the words seventeen-la-la-la come out of it.
It took me almost thirty minutes to get home, and all the way, I remembered the conversation I had with Ash. We talked about fish a lot, but we discussed other things, too. I told him about some of the other places on my route and a little about some of the friends I had made. This made him tell me about one of his friends who was a chef in New York, and we wound up talking about our favorite foods.
Never once did he tell me he was staying in that house with the cellist… but never once did he tell me he wasn't.
Flashes of the last hour crossed my mind.
I had been having so much fun with Ash until I realized who he was. I wished desperately that he would have just turned out to be one of the movers, but I knew in my heart that wasn't the case. It just didn't add up.
I regretted ever talking to him. I wished I had just left the earbuds in my ears and kept to myself while I did my work. I hated that gardener for talking to me and making me take them out. I wished Lance would have never called me for that job.
I tried to put it behind me, but I was still annoyed the whole time I took a shower. My roommate, Kristen, worked odd hours. She was home, and she tried to make conversation with me, but I told her I was running late and was in a hurry.
That was the truth. It was almost noon, and I was just starting my day. I had the Fairmont and then four other appointments after that. I didn't even want to go to them. Usually, I loved my job, but I felt like this day had just gone down the tubes. I just wanted to stay home and eat ice cream.
I had always heard that observing fish reduces stress. That must be a true statement, because by the end of my day, I had already forgiven myself for the morning's embarrassment and moved on.
It actually worked out to have a delay in my day. It made me encounter my friends at the Fairmont and my other appointments at a later time, which made for a nice change of pace. I usually finished work by 3pm, and today I didn't finish until after 5. This also worked to my advantage. It just so happened that my last job of the day was Mancuso's, an upscale Italian restaurant, and because of the late hour, they fed me dinner before I left.
The memory of my regretful morning still stung a little, but I had done my best to put it out of my mind. I thought of it a little that night, but not so much that I brought it up with my roommate. We hung out for a little while, but we talked about other things.
Kristen and I had met during our freshman year of college and been roommates ever since. She studied photography, so after our gen-ed classes were finished, we didn't have any classes together, but we remained close. At first, we shared a little apartment, but now we lived in a beautiful, two-bedroom guesthouse behind a gigantic, multi-million-dollar home that was situated on one of Miami's little islands.
Even the guesthouse was extravagant. It was our own slice of paradise. I could have never afforded the rent at a place like that on my own, but the people who owned the main house had known Kristen for a long time, so they gave us a great deal.
Kristen and I hung out for a little while, but I was tired after a long day of work, so I got by with telling her I was going to my room to read and then turn in early. I read for about an hour, but hardly a word sank in. I did my best to not think of my encounter with the handsome stranger, but he kept creeping into my mind. I remembered his smile and his eyes, and the way he was so interested in learning about Koi. I recalled bits and pieces of our conversation, smiling at the memory of some of it while cringing at other parts.
I liked to think of myself as a strong person. I had always thought I could set my mind to something and make it happen. I couldn't do that on this occasion. I tried my best to get Ash out of my head, but my attempts were futile—memories of our encounter kept coming back to the forefront of my mind.
I figured tomorrow was a new day.