Airel - Aaron Patterson [9]
Kim shut her mouth and stuck out her lower lip. “Thanks for raining on my dreams. You can’t help who you fall in love with.”
“Come on, Kim. Love? You’ve talked to the guy like what—once?” I hated to be the voice of reason. I was beginning to think I should take some of my own advice. I tried to stop thinking about him, but everything I looked at, every billboard, sign and newspaper, all reminded me of him. It was as if his face or his name was everywhere.
“Look who’s talking, miss 'in love with the hottest guy in school!' No—in the entire town!” She had me. Busted. I hid a smile behind my menu. Just in time the waitress came by to get our orders.
“I’ll get the Sunrise breakfast and a coffee.” There were lots of little individual creamers in the little dish on the table, plus Splenda to drown out the bitterness. I’d learned how to make coffee my grandpa’s way—he loved cream and sugar. Now I couldn’t take it any other way, except I substituted Splenda for sugar.
Kim looked at the choices and had decided, but she was still trying to hold on to her pouting lip. It made me laugh. “Give me the French toast with a side of bacon—lots of bacon. And OJ, please.” Our skinny waitress hurried away with a smile.
I sat back and looked through the crowd. Local farmers and regulars reading the Thrifty Nickel. The place had a hometown feel to it, with a huge wagon wheel on the wall, painted saws with mountain scenes on them, and old West stuff. We were a bit out of place surrounded by farmers and construction workers, but I loved eating at the Sunrise Café. It was nostalgic. I used to pop in for breakfast with my dad back when he had more time off.
I loved my dad, but somehow he and I had grown apart over the years. It might be that I was growing up and that’s just what happens, but I missed him and our little dates. I was thinking about the first time I came here with him, when I noticed that Kim was not talking. That was not an everyday occurrence with her.
“What?” I asked a bit defensively. She was looking at me as if I just had a nose job or something.
“Did you change make-up or do something different today?” She was leaning closer, and just like her, had to touch my face. People talk about their bubbles. Kim’s bubble was much bigger than mine. Actually, she had no bubble.
I sat back as politely as I could, just out of her reach. “No, just the same old thing I always do. Why, what’s wrong?” I pulled my compact out and looked at my reflection to see what all the fuss was about—did I have a zit coming in?
“I don’t know… just something looks different. Like, in a good way. You look like you have a smoother complexion. No little blackheads and tiny bumps like normal.”
“Oh, well thanks. I didn’t know my face was inspected every morning by the zit patrol!” I didn’t see anything worth getting all worked up about, but I did look good, considering how I had jumped out of bed and just pulled my hair back in a pony. It was Saturday, I was going shopping with my best friend, and who cared about anything else.
“Hmmmm. Well maybe it’s that new cream I got you. Anyway, you look good. Maybe I’ll have to use it some more. We all know I need it!” Kim flipped her reddish hair and it bounced like a shampoo commercial. She was pretty. She had three faint freckles on her right cheek. She hated them. She plastered on the cover-up to hide them but I thought they were cute.
Our food came. I took a bite of my fave—the wonderful scrambled eggs. I savored the flavor, when like a freight train, barf-o-matic showed up in full force. Come on! Not on my weekend… I need a break—please… My chest felt tight and a wave of nausea flooded over me. I almost lost it right there all over my delicious eggs. I jumped up, knocking over my steaming cup of coffee, and ran to the bathroom. Yet another great start to a perfect day—spilling coffee and puking in the bathroom. This is starting to get old!
Seconds behind me, Kim burst into the bathroom and saw me hunched over a grungy toilet, having a close conversation with the porcelain bowl.