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XENIA
As soon as Hobo walksout of the shop, I fall into a depression like the one I suffered after my parents’ death. I can’t shake how I’ve lost something important by him not staying longer.
In my head, Hobo is different than other men. He “gets” me. My failing business isn’t a sign of my stupidity but a spell of bad luck.
Beyond his kindness keeping my shop limping along, I crave his attention. I think of Hobo as soon as I wake up, and he’s in my thoughts as I drift off to sleep. I’ve built him up in my head. His good looks make my heart race. His kindness gives me hope.
Though I want to know him, Hobo can’t seem to spend even five minutes in my presence without fleeing for the woods.
I probably offended him by asking about his name. I hate thinking of him as “Hobo.” In my head, he’s Tommy. Calling him Hobo feels like I’m agreeing to mock a complex man.
When I arrived in McMurdo Valley, disappointed, ashamed, grieving, and lost, I cried often. After Tommy leaves, I don’t shed any tears. I’m cried out now. A heavy melancholy wraps itself around my heart and doesn’t let up.
As I drive home, I’m ready to give up on the shop and this town. I see Vegas in my mind. I imagine a small apartment close to work. With my contacts, I have choices. I could simply close XYZ Coffee, pack my things, and return home. No one in Vegas will really care why I’ve returned. They aren’t friends, but they respect my skills.
I don’t know what I want anymore. Why did I pick this town?Nothing makes sense anymore.
I think the world would feel different if Tommy had stuck around longer today. I’d been so relieved to see him. If I had any inkling where he lived or hung out, I’d find reasons to run into him. Tommy remains the only dream still clear in my head.
Arriving home, I notice Francis’s truck in his grandmother’s driveway. When we first met, I thought he was handsome and nice. I hoped he’d ask me out.
Since then, I’ve gotten myself all wrapped up in another unattainable fantasy. Now, when I think about Francis, I can’t help comparing him to Tommy.
There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the man within reach. Francis has a solid job with the electric company. He lives in his own place. Good-looking and soft-spoken, he’s exactly what I wanted when I was waiting for my life to begin.
I find Velma and Francis on her back porch. He looks handsome in denim and a white T-shirt. Francis has the same green eyes as his grandmother.
Early on, I worried flirting with him would bother Velma. I was even more concerned that Francis and I might go out and flop like all of my other dates. Then, Velma would get hostile and look for reasons for me to move out.
“Velma,” I say, pausing near her porch, “I received a large cupcake order. I was wondering if I could use your kitchen to bake.”
Velma is quick to agree. She sends Francis with me to bring in the supplies from my SUV. He lingers while I work in the kitchen.
“I did pastries at my parents’ restaurants,” I tell Francis when he pretends to be amazed by how I can make frosting from scratch.
As I work in Velma’s kitchen with a perfectly suitable man at my side, I try my hardest to ignore Tommy haunting my thoughts.
Yet, I keep wondering where he goes when he leaves the shop. Where does he sleep? Is he hungry? Does he get lonely?
As Francis helps me pack up the cupcakes for tomorrow, he asks me out for dinner. We agree on Friday evening. That’ll give me a few days to get my head in check over Tommy.
Even tonight, after spending time with an easygoing Francis, I find myself resting in bed and dreaming of my wild man. So often, I imagine Tommy strolling up to my little house in the way he does at the shop. I’d offer him lemonade or iced tea. He’d sit down in the grass and talk with me.
Yes, that’s a lovely fantasy. In my head, I’m charming, and he can’t get enough of my stories. We laugh easily. Life makes sense. The dream feels perfect.
Just like moving to McMurdo Valley and opening XYZ Coffee felt perfect.
