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Aaron walks into the shop, his attention zeroing in on Ricky. Ricky assumes his faux-casual pose, like he’s pretending he doesn’t notice Aaron, while offering his best angle to be ogled.
“I don’t want to spread rumorsabout my friends,” Delilah adds. “All I can say is talk to her. You two have always been that meant-to-be couple I’ve rooted for, even with all the antagonizing games you play. Stay true to your heart.” There’s wistfulness in her tone and a hint of sadness.
How can I not heed her advice?
Delilah was head-over-heels in love with E before he vanished. As far as I knew, he was mad about her too. The fact that he left without telling her goodbye, explaining himself, or offering her closure angers me to this day. Still, she continues to believe in the possibility of happily ever after. She’s sad and melancholy at times, often furious if E’s name comes up, but she hasn’t given up on the idea of love.
I need to take a page from Delilah’s book and not give up. Push Naomi. Find out why she maybe has feelings for me but is fighting them.
I’ve certainly been attracted to her for almost a decade. Which means it’s time to change the game. Figure out how to win her over so we can finally test if hate and passion are flipsides of the same coin.
chapterseven
Avett
I spent this week readingCosmopolitanmagazine.Cosmopolitanis a women’s publication. Since I want to win Naomi over, and Naomi is a woman, I assumed it has pertinent advice. I was correct and found an article titled “5 Tricks to Seducing Your Enemy.”
I paraphrased the five points and wrote them in a spreadsheet.
Show your enemy a glimpse of your softer side.
Prove you can be trusted.
When the time is right, reveal your true feelings.
Be bold. Enemies harbor strong emotions and don’t respond to subtlety.
Put your heart on the line, even if it’s a risk.
Even without myCosmoadvice, Naomi and I are making strides toward non-enemy-ship. We’re now coffee-line friends. The past week, we’ve said hi to each other every morning. She still pushes my buttons with her antics, but there’s a comradery to our snide remarks and needling stunts. We even banded together yesterday, ganging up on Ricky, nudging him to talk to Aaron.
This morning I plan to implementCosmopolitan’s very important first point—Show your enemy a glimpse of your softer side.
My Saturday routine still involves my usual wakeup time and morning run. Sleeping in disrupts patterns. If I lounge in bed, I’m groggier and slower throughout my day. Ricky thinks I’m nuts to wake up early on the weekends, but routine keeps me productive and happy. After my Saturday run, I never go to town or visit Sugar and Sips for a dose of Naomi jousting. I visit my grandmother instead, where we play cribbage and she usually beats me.
This morning, I made a change.
I haven’t upended my day like some kind of reckless rebel, but I’ve tweaked it. Naomi spends Saturday mornings in Sugar and Sips with her laptop, working on her lesson plans or grading or whatever it is teachers do. I know this because Ricky mentioned it once, and I vowed never to walk in there on those days. It was one thing enduring her evil sorcery every weekday morning. There was no need to ruin my Saturdays as well.
Things have obviously changed on the Naomi front, so I suggested to Gran that I take her into town, where we’ll play cards in my favorite coffee shop, instead of in her kitchen.
Gran holds my arm as we walk down Main Street, no longer as quick as she used to be. “You’re up to something,” she says bluntly.
While her body is slower, her mind isn’t. Although Gran was a stay-at-home mother, she’d have made an excellent private eye. “I’m up to nothing but spending the morning with my favorite grandparent.”
“Your only living grandparent.” She wields her famous side-eye, an assessing look that’s part challenging, part disapproving, and all intimidating. “You, Avett Samuel Lewis, are up to something. You haven’t seen this side of Bear Lake on a Saturday morning since before college. No matter how much I pester you to change your routine, you don’t like coming to town on the weekends.”
She’s right. She pesters me plenty, but only more recently. Certainly not in the aftermath of that mess in college. She was supportive and concerned back then, same as my folks.
Winding up in the middle of a convenience-store robbery hadn’t been on my Things I’d Like to Experience at College list. The horrific encounter was the type of nightmare you’d see on TV: a masked man brandishing a gun, demands for cash, the scene going so wrong, so fast. I nearly flunked out of college afterward. Panic attacks became regular occurrences.
Therapy helped me tons. As did my family. Order and predictability are my coping mechanisms now. Yet, here I am, adjusting my schedule because of a woman who fantasizes about decapitating me.
Blunt grandmother and decapitation fantasies aside, I’m surprised how charmed I am by the town’s atmosphere. The central square is dotted with families and couples and singles on picnic blankets, reading and lounging. Some kids play frisbee, while others run with their dogs. The mermaid fountain splashes happily under the shade of the large oak, the surrounding shops and galleries punctuated with flower urns and brightly paintedOpensigns.
I’ve always loved Windfall’s temperate climate and positive vibe. I’m not sure if it’s the hiking trails and outdoor pursuits that draw nature-loving people or the large artist population that fills our farmers’ market and quaint shops. Whatever the reason, Windfall’s an open-minded hamlet with a festival for every season, including the upcoming Spring Fair, complete with tractor races, hay bale mazes, and enough homemade sweets to keep the local dentists flush.
But as we pass the Lazy Tree art gallery and our local bookstore, the Sandpiper’s Nest, I realize I’m always rushing around, not strolling slow enough to really see this serene place where I live.
