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“Good, I’m glad to hear that.” He brings his eyes closer to the camera. “Now, how’s my new lawn holding up?”
I laugh out loud before I set off in telling him exactly how his lawn is doing.
O is taking me to see a movie later that day. It’s like we’re going on an adventure. We deliberately haven’t discussed which movie we’re going to see, because we’ll probably end up fighting about what we want to see, and we want to keep being on the same page for as long as possible.
When we pass Earl’s bookstore, Earl is standing in the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the people pass by with a gleeful look on his face.
“Hey Earl,” I greet him.
“Hi Morgan, coming in today?”
O gives me a look that I mostly feel instead of see. “No, we’ve got a movie to catch,” I reluctantly say.
“Well, just so you know, I’m all for your little group romance thing you’ve got going,” Earl says.
“It’s reached you too?” I ask aghast.
“It’s all over town, Morgan. You know how these things tend to go in Charlington.” And it’s true, I do. I know how these things go. But fuck if I’d love it for it to be different.
“Are you all for it because I’m one of your most loyal customers, or because you’re really behind us?” I ask suspiciously.
He chuckles. “Even if you wouldn’t buy half my stock without blinking an eye, I’d be all for this. Who am I to tell what is normal and what is not? As long as you guys are happy, I don’t give a shit.”
The look on his face turns sad suddenly. It’s then I remember that Earl has lost a daughter who commited suicide when in her teens, and his remark about being happy being the only thing that counts hits home. I give him my best sympathetic smile. I can feel him pulling up his walls, and that’s okay.
“So, do any of these guys of you even read? Because in that case I have an even better excuse why I’m rooting you on.”
O grins. “We’ll send Gil your way. He’ll walk out of here with a whole stack of books. He’s one of those creepy people who like the smell of books.”
Both Earl and I give O a judging look.
“What do you mean with one of those creepy people?” I ask with an iciness to my tone.
Earl laughs out loud. “Good luck with that, Oliver,” he says before he steps back into his store and starts whistling while he rearranges some books.
O starts walking into the direction of the movie theater. “What do you mean by creepy people?”
“Nothing,” he says nonchalantly while he grabs my hand and starts rubbing the back of it with his thumb. “Are we getting popcorn or candy?” he asks to divert the conversation.
“Both, duh,” I answer before realizing I’m letting him do exactly what he intended to do. But maybe we’ve all got traits that the others don’t understand.
We’re only half a street away from the movie theaters when we pass the stall with fresh vegetables Emmerson sells every week. I’m happily lost in thought about which candy I’m going to pick when O ducks his head and yells out in pain.
“What the…?” I start to ask when I see O rubbing a spot on his forehead, looking at Emmerson like he’s about to kill him. I don’t understand what the fuck is going on.
“Did you just throw something at me?” O yells, his face quickly turning redder than the spot on his forehead he’s rubbing.
“Yeah, a potato, you adulterating scum.”
I fail to see how O is being adulterating when we’re all firmly on board with our relationship, but I see things are getting heated in Charlington. Somehow my eye falls on the potato, and I grab O’s arm in surprise.
“O, look!”
“What?” he says without taking his furious look off of Emmerson.
“It’s a purple potato!”
“What?”
