Chapter Four: Fate
The irony was, I wasn’teven looking for him when it happened.I was on my way out of the Sheppard–Yonge station.It was full of people, but I was so far inside my head I didn’t notice anything until something got through to me.Like a commercial jingle you hear a couple times and then it’s stuck in your head.Only it wasn’t a jingle.It was footsteps: a specific, uneven rhythm of footsteps.And I woke up in the middle of the station and whipped my head around.And there he was, walking away from me toward the buses.His hair was shorter, and he had his back to me, but I knew.
I shouted as loud as I could, “Eddie!”
He stopped walking, turned, and looked at me.And I ran across the concourse to him.He waited for me.
I didn’t know what to say.I was out of breath, though I hadn’t run far.I felt relieved.He was okay.Then I felt all kinds of emotional—overwhelming affection, fear he’d disappear again—I didn’t know what to do with myself.
His hair was darker than I remembered, almost brown.He wore ripped jeans and a spring jacket, not a winter coat, and he looked tired.
“I, um,” I said.“How’s it going?”
Real articulate, Porter.
“Okay,” he said.“You?”
“Yeah.”Just standing here trying to sound cool.
A lady with a rolling suitcase was heading straight toward us, and I touched his arm so he’d move to let her pass.I looked into his eyes.I was an inch taller than he was, and we were standing pretty close, and I realized I was still touching him, so I let him go.
“Uh, yeah,” I said.“Are you on your way to somewhere?”
“Just home.”
“Right.Do you...want to grab a coffee?”Which, I didn’t even drink coffee, and did I just ask him out?
“Sure,” he said.“Where do you want to go?”
He said yes!
“There’s a Timmies down the block.”If I’d had time to think, I would have picked somewhere special for our first...whatever this was.
I led the way.The station was too crowded for us to walk beside each other, and outside, there were too many people on the sidewalk.I kept looking back to check I hadn’t lost him again.
There was no line inside the Tim Hortons.I ordered a blueberry bagel with cream cheese and a milk.Then he ordered a hot chocolate and a BLT, and before he could get his wallet out, I told the lady behind the counter, “I’m paying for his too.”Because it was a date, right?I’d asked him out.
“You don’t need to,” he said.
“I want to.Okay?”
