 |
| Image Made with Canva |
The air that day was suffocating and hot. On the streets, women bared shoulders and legs, while men, shirtless, donned wide-brimmed hats.
“There are too many people out.”
Cash startled, the cap to his pen skittering across his desk.
“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Andela circled Cash’s desk, her eyes on the city street below, “I’m asking to leave work early. How about you?”
“No, I’ll work late. There won’t be as many people when the sun goes down,” Cash glanced at her. He didn’t notice her filmy sundress or coiffed hair. No, his eyes settled where they always did, on the gap between her face mask and the apple of her cheek. Sometimes he imagined he could make out the slip of a lip, something that made his thoughts scatter like a dandelion puff in the wind.
“You’re missing out. Who knows when we’ll get another nice day,” Andela patted his desk and moved on.
“Are you going to the beach?”
“I guess I could take off early too.”
“Let’s eat ice cream together.”
No, he couldn’t say those things to her. At best, she would say he had misunderstood her. At worst, she would be offended by the idea of ice cream; to be unmasked together, to lick the dribble of sherbet as it melted down the side of a cone.
Cash stood up and stretched. The industrial carpet around his desk was color-coded like an inverse rainbow. His desk chair was parked on the red dot, orange and yellow zones marking three-foot increments from him. He stepped into the green zone, the highway of the office. It snaked behind other desks, wrapping itself around the bathrooms before dumping off in the kitchen.
He opened the freezer, the cold air chilling the grittiness of stubble and sweat inside his mask. Behind him, two women giggled.
“I did that once and it made them so red,”
“Don’t they get chapped though?”
“Not if you’re wearing you-know-what.”
Good grief, the women behind him were indecent. He turned around. They were seated next to each other at the lunch carrels, the dividers blocking him from seeing more than the crowns of their heads.
“Min, I can hear you,” he closed the freezer.
“What makes you think it’s me?” Min ducked down, “You aren’t peeking, are you?”
“No, I - “ Cash felt a heat rise above the collar of his shirt.
“Don’t torture him, Min,” the other woman sounded like she was going to laugh. “He could probably see the top of your head without peeping.”
“I wasn’t peeping!”
“There’s no way you recognized the top of my head,” Min pulled her mask back into place with a snap.
“I did,” Cash stepped back, a hand bumping the refrigerator door, “No one else has a cowlick like yours.”
“Really, Cash?” Min stood, “Don’t tell me you stare at the top of Andela’s head.”
Andela’s name hit Cash like a slap. He turned away from the kitchen, his embarrassment morphing into anger. He exited the suite and found the stairwell doors. He jogged up the stairs, his sense of trepidation rising with his body.
“You promised not to tell anyone that I liked her.”
“You said that to embarrass me.”
“You said we were friends.”
Cash pushed through the steel door. Sunlight flooded the rooftop, bleaching it white. He ignored the dark coolness of the umbrellaed tables, heading instead for the perimeter. Leaning against the glass fence, Cash could just make out the golden brims of straw hats.
There was a slam behind him, but Cash didn’t turn. Instead, he stiffened, trying to make himself unapproachable.
“Are you part goat?” Min huffed up next to him, “I’ve never seen a human go up stairs like that before.”
“Did you tell anyone?” He stared at the sea of people below them.
“Did I tell who what?” Min put a hand on his arm, “Don’t be mad, Cash. I didn’t mean to say Andela’s name.”
“And you and your friend? What were you talking about? It was about kissing, wasn’t it?”
“No,” Min took her hand back.
Cash could still feel the pressure of her fingers on his bare arm, and he rubbed it until the sensation went away. “What were you talking about then?”
“Going maskless in the snow,” Min leaned against the railing, “It’s natural, freeing. The feel of the cold air on your face, watching the steam trail from your mouth like frozen bubbles, your voice so clear and loud that you could shout down the forest.”
“So girls really do run around maskless together,” Cash turned his back towards the street.
“Who said I was with a girl?” Min poked him in the ribs.
Cash grabbed her finger, “Stop.”
“You’re still upset.”
“No,” he dropped her hand, “Yes.”
“You should ask Andela out.”
“Want to go have ice cream?”
Min’s eyes lost their mockery. As she stared at him, Cash realized his mistake. “Okay,” Min looked down at their overlapping shadows, “It will have to be late, though.”
Somehow they both turned and walked back down the stairs. Somehow, Cash made it back to his desk. He sat there, his head pounding.
“I didn’t mean you.”
“Maybe we should do something else.”
“I’m feeling ill.”
No, he couldn’t say any of those things.
Andela swooped by his desk, “Bye, Cash. Don’t work too late.”
He didn’t respond until she was out the door. “Bye,” Cash stared at his computer screen. In the glare, he could make out his own hazy reflection, his eyes moving like startled birds.
That afternoon, work was a tonic that he drank deeply. If it was possible, he was drunk on it, singing in a language that was more number than song. He didn’t even notice the clock at the bottom of his screen flashing 5:55, his usual time to shut everything down.
“Almost ready?” Min’s voice made him jump.
“No,” he logged out, “but I don’t think I ever will be.”
Min laughed. “You’re so uptight, I was surprised you asked me,” she pulled her hair back into a ponytail.
“We don’t have to . . . you know,” he stood, then pushed his chair under the desk.
“But it’s so hot today. How could anyone live without ice cream?” She held out her arm, “Anyway, I want to see what you look like without a mask.”
He ignored her arm, “How can you be so indecent?”
“It’s not like I said I wanted to see you naked, I said I want to see your face. We’ve been friends for almost a year, and I have no idea what you really look like.”
“This,” he gestured at himself, “This is what I look like.”
“Right,” she pushed the elevator button. They stood in silence as the doors shuddered open.
The elevator stopped at the next floor, and Cash backed into a corner. He held his breath until they reached the lobby, the black and white checked floor painted with green arrows and yellow stripes. “Where did you want to go?” There was a shop just down the street, with enclosed pink booths and frozen yogurt. Then there was the gelato place, with bar seating and frosted glass dividers. Lean too far in any direction, and you could watch anyone lick their plastic spoon, ice cream speckling their face.
“You don’t have to look like that,” Min held open the door, “I was thinking grocery store ice cream and my place.”
“Uh.” He had been to her house before, many times, but never to eat. “You don’t want gelato or frozen yogurt?”
“I really want a scoop of chocolate-chip mint on a sugar cone, and I want to eat it on my balcony.”
“You’ll get arrested.”
“I have privacy screens,” Min crossed the street, “but if it makes you more comfortable, I could eat frozen yogurt.”
“Here,” he took her arm, led her through the yogurt shop’s open door. There was a line, and they stood in it, Cash fidgeting with the strap of his bag.
Min picked up a paper menu, “They have a mint. I could add chocolate sprinkles, I guess.” She passed it to Cash.
“I’ll just get chocolate,” he folded the menu in two.
By the time their table was ready, Cash was starving. He could almost forget about Min, if he kept his head down. The chocolate was sweet and cool, with a tang that made it go down even faster.
Then, he looked up.
Min studied him, a spoon in her mouth.
“You,” he pointed his spoon at her, “are you satisfied?”
“A little,” she stuck her spoon in her paper bowl, “Yes, I guess.”
“Not as good as supermarket ice cream?”
“Not as good as my imagination,” she wiped her face with a napkin.
“Ouch.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“What way did you mean it?” He took another spoonful.
“Oh, in my mind we had just one ice cream, on a cone.”
Instead of swallowing, Cash inhaled. He hacked, he gasped, he coughed. Min reached across the table and whacked him on the back. Cash wheezed in a breath of air, trying to speak.
“That was exactly what I was thinking.”
“Let’s order one now.”
“Friends can share ice cream, right?”
“You’re too much fun to tease, but I wasn’t trying to make you choke,” Min picked up her mask, sliding the elastic over her ears. “You didn’t mean to ask me to ice cream, did you? But if you think about it, this was way more fun than just going home,” she undid her hair. It fell back into place, her cowlick like a whale’s spout.
“Th - “ Cash coughed, “That’s a relief.” He slid his mask back into place, “Wanna walk with me to the bus stop?”
“I’m heading that way, anyway,” Min stuck her debit card into the tabletop payment machine, “You buy next time.”
“Next time!”
“How are you ever going to go out with Andela, if you can’t even go out with friends?” Min punched in her pin, “Anyway, it’s good practice.”
“Okay, but not here,” he scooted out of the booth, “Just thinking about it gives me asthma.”
“Gelato?” Min held out her arm.
“Gelato,” Cash linked elbows with her, “They have these little screens, smaller than a piece of printer paper.”
“That’s depressingly big.”
“They’re not big. Last time I ate there, I saw some lady’s nose. Completely lost my appetite,” he steered her out the door, past the queue of business people reading paper menus.
They waltzed down the sidewalk, pausing in the cool of the bus shelter. “We’ll have to be careful, then,” Min spoke in his ear, and for a moment, all he could feel was the outline of her lips pressing through her mask.
“No,” he said, “I mean, yes.”