Author's Note: I am so sorry, readers. I have hardly had a chance to write my name on a scrap piece of paper, let alone an entire chapter. Summer is here, though, and that means weekly updates, if not more. I pinky promise. So, without further ado, I give you Chapter Four!
I don't get asked out on many dates.
All right. Maybe being asked to dinner isn't exactly a date. But when you consider the fact that every Saturday night for the past four years has consisted of me eating Spaghetti Pesto by myself at a little table in the clinic while Irene goes out to talk to the Tailor and buy bolts of fabric for various arts and crafts projects that she never finishes, any social outing could be regarded as a date.
So, of course, I started thinking of ways to get out of my arrangement with Angela.
It was an obligation invitation, I'm sure. Or maybe one out of pity. Either way, I'm perfectly content with my Saturday arrangement. It's what I'm accustomed to, and I'm not one to actively look for ways out of my comfort zone. This…this was out of my comfort zone.
"Jin," Irene called, looking at the computer screen as that day approached. "Have you talked to Angela about dinner tomorrow night?"
I winced, straightening my collar and walking downstairs to face this. I had hoped Irene had forgotten. But that woman has a stellar memory when it suits her. "Ah, no," I replied. Nonchalance, Jin. "She said something about 'when she gets her bearings.' Which, of course, is a hard thing to do after only three days on a farm, wouldn't you think?"
Truthfully, I was counting on the assumption that Angela would get so bogged down in work on her ranch that, by the time she 'had her bearings,' she would've forgotten all about me.
It wasn't her I was trying to avoid, exactly. It was facing the fact that I am socially awkward, and I didn't exactly want to spend hours of my time sitting around in blank silence. I'm not much for conversation, and even the most persistent of talkers gets easily discouraged around someone like me as of late.
I had been like that most of my life. Chitchat wasn't encouraged at my home, where my father and my mother preferred to use their time talking about politics and medicine and the economy. A child doesn't have the capacity to involve himself much in those types of conversation, and so I listened and learned, not daring to interject. Even after my parents' death, at my grandmother's house, there was never much room for idle chatter. I spent most of my childhood reading and observing.
Lea managed to change that much in the short time she was in my life. A year was all it took for her to drag me around town, forcing me to talk to people and involve myself in the events that I hardly noticed before she arrived. Soon, I wanted to take part in everything that she did, because she was so alive and so happy; I wanted to be the same. I would stop in at the bar on Friday nights, would participate in festivals, would pay visits to neighbors. I became something of a socialite, actually.
Of course, once Lea vanished, I pulled back into my shell, maybe even more so than I ever had before. And the bittersweet part was that everyone obliged, leaving me alone.
I'm a creature of habit. I like waking up at the same time every day, and going to bed accordingly. I don't have much excitement when it comes to meals – I like what I like, and I eat what I like. Acquaintances are few, friends are even more so.
Speed bumps in my life make me feel unsettled. And, as bad as it sounds, I considered a simple act of kindness a speed bump.
But Irene wasn't dumb. Oh, no – she was many things, but "dumb" wasn't even a minority in her repertoire. She turned to me, looking me up and down with cold eyes. And then she raised a finger. "Call that girl," she said in her most menacing voice, "and take her to dinner."
I sighed, knowing when I was beaten. I would never live this down. "But-" I started, like a child trying desperately to escape punishment. All it took was a raised eyebrow to get me to hush.
"Fine," I gave in with a sigh. I walked over to the phone and reached for it, only to be smacked in the hand. "Ouch!"
"Call on her," Irene enunciated – a sure sign that she meant business – "in person."
Fantastic.
At least it was a nice day. I would die, crumple over in embarrassment, leave behind a pitiful life – but at least it would happen on a nice day.
The walk wasn't a long one. I could cut up through Waffle Town and take the path between the hills into the Caramel River District. But instead, I took the long way, taking the left path in the fork in the road, instead of the right, which would lead directly to Angela's house. The left pathway led into the Maple Lake district, where I lived. In fact, most of the houses that were on the island were located in this district. There was a single path that looped around the namesake lake, and winded around into the Ganache Mine District, where the industrial careers like blacksmithing and carpentry set up shop. Convenience was key here; Ramsey's blacksmith was positioned right by the mouth of the mineral-rich Ganache Mine, and Dale's carpentry was a short walk away from the small forest. Anissa and her family also lived here, on the other side of the area, though, closer to the Brownie Ranch District.
Just beyond the carpentry, the path curled into the Caramel River District, forming a complete circle. A root of the Goddess's tree had once blocked it, but the carpenter's son, Luke, had taken it upon himself to chop the root into tiny pieces. I passed through here, wondering what would've happened if I had arrived to see the root intact and blocking my way to Angela. I would have to circle back around, and by then, it would be much to late to socialize.
Stop it, I scolded myself. The new girl in town extends a kindness to me, and I act like it's an invitation to the gallows. I knew I was being unreasonable, but red flags were popping up in my mind at every turn.
Of course, eventually, I reached Angela's…er…house. "Shack" is a more appropriate word, though. The mayor certainly didn't give her a very good run of things – her residence was worn, and hardly large enough to host a personality like hers. I sighed, and, trying not to think of the health code violations that oozed all over the creaking porch, climbed up the steps and knocked reluctantly, once, twice, and a third time.
"Hold on! I'll be right there!" The voice didn't come from inside the house. I peered from behind the column that supported the roof to see Angela, clad to suit her new profession in gloves and boots, exiting the barn with a tiny animal in her hands.
"Hello," she said, grinning. She wasn't at all surprised to see me standing on her doorstep. She walked up and sat on the front step, cuddling the white ball of fluff in her arms. "Isn't it cute? Hanna, the owner of the Brownie Ranch, sold her to me for a bargain." She held up the tiny lamb and smiled.
"Adorable," I said, wincing inwardly at the acidity in my own voice. If Angela noticed, she didn't let on.
"Go on, go play," she said, releasing the lamb and watching it scurry off into her pasture, where her other livestock – which she had accumulated in record speed – were grazing. She stood up, wiping her hands on the seat of her shorts, and then tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ears. "What can I do for you, Doctor?"
"Ah." Well, I didn't have anything to lose. Except dignity, my isolated sense of security… "I was hoping you were available. I'd like to…take you up on your dinner offer." The words scraped the inside of my throat, clawing desperately to avoid release. My voice cracked.
Angela raised her eyebrows slightly, looking amused. For a single moment, a tense, bated moment, she hesitated. And then…
"I'd love to, Jin. Give me just a minute, and I'll go grab my things."
"Oh. Okay." I should've felt some degree of relief, knowing that I hadn't been rejected flat, but instead dread welled up a little more. "I'll sit out here, then."
In reality, I didn't need to sit down at all. She was ready to go in about thirty seconds. She had removed her gloves, changed her shoes from boots to sandals, and put on a different shirt. She also smelled like berries, obviously a perfume. She peeked out the front door and opened it slowly. "Ready to go?" she asked me, in all seriousness, as if she had called on me, instead of the other way around.
"Of course." I stood up and nodded. And then I turned around and began to walk. I didn't notice she was fumbling with her keys to lock her door until I heard footsteps hurriedly trying to catch up with me.
"You walk pretty fast," she said when she finally reached my side, and then matched the pace of my stride.
"I apologize."
"No, it's nothing to be sorry for. Don't be silly."
I could already tell the fun in store for me tonight.
Kathy, the waitress at the only restaurant in town, cracked her gum and leaned on our table. "What can I get for ya?" she asked, positioning her pen on her notepad and winking at me.
"The tomato risotto, please," I said, not even bothering to look at the poorly laminated menu she had handed to me. Angela, on the other hand, was studying it intently, biting her lip.
"Ah…what's in your Omelet Rice?" she asked, looking up at Kathy. The blonde waitress stared.
"You're kidding."
"No…" It was the first time I had heard Angela sound unsure of herself.
"Omelet Rice has rice. And eggs. Little pat 'a butter, too." Kathy looked amused rather than annoyed.
"Oh. That sounds good. I'll have that." Angela handed over her menu, pretending to be blasé, but her cheeks colored pink. Kathy nodded, and turned on her three-inch heels to walk back into the kitchen. An uncomfortable silence filled the air, just as I had suspected. Angela took a sip of her water, and I did the same.
"So…" she said, working for conversation. "What's there to do for fun around here?"
I swallowed. "Fun?" Ha, I wouldn't know. "Well. Some people swim. A lot of the younger women like to ride horses; Renee, the daughter of the ranching family, raises prize-winning colts. There's a handful of festivals each season with different draws." I felt like I was reading from cue cards.
Angela nodded, considering this. "Uh huh." She looked at me and tilted her head. "And you?"
"Pardon?"
"What do you do for fun?"
I blinked. I didn't do anything for fun. Work was fun- my idea of it, anyways. "I collect herbs," I blurted. Angela giggled.
"Herbs? Fascinating." She put a hand to her cheek and grinned. "I'm serious. Who are your friends? What do you do on your days off from the clinic?" This was the question I had been dreading. My pathetic answer was inevitably going to be required, though, so I sighed resignedly.
"I…don't have all too many friends," I admitted. Once upon a time, I did. Three years ago, to be exact.
Angela frowned, looking a little shell-shocked. "Oh. Why is that?" She stirred the ice in her cup with her straw, doing her best to mimic my plastered nonchalance.
I shrugged. To that, I had no answer. The silence clouded the air once again, sticking to the walls of my throat and nostrils. I was choking on it. And apparently, so was the girl – she ducked her head, obviously embarrassed.
At that exact moment, Kathy chose to swing through the kitchen doors, breezing through the restaurant with two plates balanced on the palms of her hands. "Tomato risotto," she announced, setting my plate down, "And an Omelet Rice. Complete with eggs and rice." She winked at Angela, and, just as quickly as she had appeared, disappeared once more.
As I took a bite of my food, thankful to have an excuse not to talk, I noticed Angela playing with her order. "What's the matter?" I asked.
She set her fork down and looked me directly in the eye. "I'll be your friend, Jin," she said, in all seriousness.
I swallowed, hard. What have I gotten myself into?
