“What did you have in mind?”
“Anything. I just want to get out of my house,” she says in a way that makes me think of her non-existent roommate. I know she lives with a girl, but in the past couple of months I’ve been hanging out with Candace, I’ve never seen or heard her talk about her roommate, but if she needs to get away, I’ll take her away.
“You up for shopping?”
“Shopping?” she questions.
“Yeah, I need to do some Christmas shopping for my nieces and nephews. You in?”
“Um, yeah. That sounds good.”
“I’ll come pick you up,” I tell her before we hang up, and just like that, my day got better.
When I pull into her drive, I see her walking down the steps of her front porch. She looks perfect with her leopard scarf wrapped around her neck and her hair down. When she gets into my car, she looks at me staring at her and asks, “What?”
Being honest, I tell her, “I like your hair down.” She usually has it in a piled mess on top of her head, which always looks sexy on her, but I have to admit that it’s cutest when she’s in school, and it’s almost always in a tight bun since she dances every day. But I rarely ever see her with her hair down like it is now.
She looks uncomfortable with the compliment and doesn’t respond to it, instead asking, “Can we stop by Peet’s and grab something to drink?”
Laughing at her deflection, I say, “Sure,” before backing out and heading over to Fremont. As I’m driving, I notice that she seems a little absent as she stares out the window.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, and when she faces me, she questions, “Why?”
“You seem distracted.”
“Sorry,” she says and I can tell she’s abashed. “Thanks for picking me up.”
Not sure what’s causing her mood, I intend to dispel it. Smiling over at her, I say, “Anytime.”
We luck out, finding a parking spot right in front of Peet’s, and the place is crowded when we walk in. Candace stands close to me while we wait in line. She’s fidgety, absentmindedly wringing her hands together.
A burst of cold air floods in, and when the chime from the door goes off, Candace startles and turns to see an older couple walking in. Her face is nearly stone when I look down at her.
“Hey,” I say as gently as I can, and when she turns around, I ask, “You sure you’re okay?”
Fixing a smile on her face, she looks up at me and assures, “Yeah. Maybe I should just get a decaf tea or something,” with humor I’m not buying, but I’m not questioning it either. I reach down and when I take her hand in mine, she grips me tightly as if she needs the comfort of my touch.
After we order our drinks, we walk out into the brisk air, and she finally seems to breathe easy. Crowds. I forgot for a moment that she doesn’t like them, and Peet’s was packed with people needing a hot drink to warm up.
Opening the car door for her, I help her up and then walk around to get in. We drive across town to a massive toy store that’s my go-to spot for the kids. We listen to an old David O’Dowda album as we fight the holiday traffic, and when we pull up, we grab our drinks and head inside.
“So, what are you looking for?” she asks as she gets a cart and starts following me down one of the aisles.
“Don’t know. These kids aren’t too hard to please though,” I tell her as I stop and flip through a few board puzzles.
“How old are they again?”
“Young. All under five,” I say as I start wandering around. “Honestly, they’d be happy with a box of tissues and a stick.”
She laughs at my words, and I turn back to her to get a glimpse. “That’s nice,” she says, teasingly.
“It’s true.”
When we turn down the next aisle, filled with pink . . . everything, Candace stops to admire a collection of dolls. I step up behind her and quip, “You want one?”
She looks at me over her shoulder, and mocks, “No, I don’t want one,” before looking back at them. “They’re pretty.”
“Grab a couple,” I tell her and watch as she picks out two of the dolls and puts them in the cart.
We take our time, slowly strolling, grabbing toys here and there as she continues to ask about my family.
“So, seven nieces and nephews . . .”
“Yep.”
“All cousins’ kids?” she asks.
“I’m an only child, remember?”
Nodding her head, she says, “That’s right. I forgot. You all sound close.”
“I’m closest to my cousin, Tori. We spent a lot of time together while we were in high school. We lived in different towns, but would always get together on the weekends. Partying and surfing.”
“You surf?” she asks as she looks over at me.
“I grew up on the beach.”
“Jase surfs,” she tells me.
“Yeah, he’s mentioned that to me. Grew up in San Diego, right?”
“Uh huh. He goes to Westport every now and then.”
“I’ve been there a few times, but I go back to Cannon Beach frequently, so I normally get my fill when I’m there,” I tell her and catch her staring down the next aisle. “What are you looking at?”
“I always wanted one of those,” she whines with excitement as she starts walking towards a huge wire bin filled with inflated Hop N Bounce balls. I laugh while I watch her grab one out of the bin and turn to me. “My friend had one of these when we were little, but she would never let me play with it.”