Page 114 of Possibly Texas

“With…me,” Levi Lee asked, looking down at his sneakers for a second before meeting my eyes again. “Together. A coffee.”

It took a second for what he’d proposed to register with me. When it finally struck me, I was both panicked and proud.

What Levi Lee was implying—and could possibly be true—made my heart do a few jumping jacks. The fact that Levi Lee—out of all people in Possibly—had asked me to have coffee took the sting out of the scare, though.

Honestly, even in Possibly, where everyone did whatever came naturally to them, it was taking me forever to figure out who I was. Had Levi Lee figured it out before me? Did I want to “have coffee” with him?

I knew of one person that I wanted to have coffee with, but I wasn’t certain it was all that sudden of a realization.

“How old are you, Levi Lee?” I chuckled nervously.

“Nineteen last time I checked,” he said with a proud smile.

Another mystery solved. Levi Lee was nineteen. To me, that was age appropriate. At least we were both teenagers. However, I’d mostly asked his age because I was curious, and an opportunity arose where I could ask without simply being nosy. There was no breaking of the unofficial Possibilian Code. I sighed and smiled at Levi Lee.

“I don’t think I do, man,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

Levi Lee smiled and shrugged.

“Life is art,” he said.

“What does that mean?” I chuckled, hoping I hadn’t hurt his feelings and he was simply brushing off the pain.

“Sometimes you think you’re throwing clay and it ends up you’re painting a landscape,” he said, cryptically.

Or maybe not.

“Yeah,” I nodded with a smile. “Sometimes it doesn’t quite work out the way you think.”

“Still friends?” he asked.

Friends? I hadn’t thought of Levi Lee as having been a friend. Or anyone in Possibly. Besides Auggie. I liked the way the word sounded coming from my fellow Possibilian.

“Always,” I said.

Levi Lee beamed and took a few steps back.

“If you want to bring me a frappe later—as friends—I wouldn’t say ‘no,’” he said before doing another twirl.

“Sure thing, man,” I said with a laugh and headed into Starbuck’s to start my day.

Over the course of the next two hours, Two Doors Down by Dolly Parton and Midnight Train to Georgia by Gladys Knight & the Pips played from the radio behind the counter in the shop. Amos had broken his pattern. Of course, he still played all three songs back-to-back all day long, but he was no longer stuck on one song all day long.

It was possible that Lovelorn Pass Bridge did more than cure lovesickness, I thought to myself.

All morning long, the sounds and smells of Possibly returned. Customers came in and out of Starbuck’s for sugary treats and even sugary coffee. Wyatt’s pistol could be heard nearly every fifteen minutes. AMOR played its three songs of the day. Levi Lee practiced his new art. When Agnes wheeled herself into the shop for a coffee two hours into my shift, she told Starbuck—with great surprise—that Grandy was thinking of stocking new items in his store.

Things were normal. As normal as they could be in Possibly.

It seemed that sometimes all a place needs is a good storm to set things right.

I took my break around the time Agnes came in for her coffee, delivering a frappe to Levi Lee as promised. He was grateful for the drink, choosing to sit and talk with me and cool down as I took my fifteen minutes away from cleaning. Mostly, he rambled on about his art and how he was going to discover what he did best sooner or later. I mostly nodded along and encouraged him.

It didn’t escape my attention, halfway through my break, when Jack and Sofia appeared outside of the post office. Apparently, he had come into town to get the mail himself. Apparently, he’d decided to stick around and…visit. They stepped out of the door together, smiling, with Sofia talking his ear off and swatting at his arm playfully. I wasn’t sure the conversation was one-sided or not, but when Jack signed to her and she responded, I had my answer.

The Mystery of Shirlene was answered. Even if I was the only one who knew it.

It was obvious, not just from their body language as they canoodled at the front stoop of the post office, that Jack had a thing for the postmaster. From what I could tell, she was not averse to the attention from my stepfather, either.