Sonata

Da Capo-1

Da Capo

Ian was staring at the sprig of rapini in his fist, wondering why he wasn’t just buying broccoli, when he first heard the voice. It wasn’t that he had a specific hatred for rapini, he was telling himself in silence; it just seemed a little overdone. Four dollars for the “idea” of something cool when he could get an entire head of almost the same thing for a quarter of the cost, and for that reason alone the vegetable seemed a touch elitist…

“Hey,” the voice repeated, closer to Ian’s ear and more insistent.

He looked up with a scowl, ready to growl something about “waiting their damn turn” and c****d his head at the young woman with the toddler on her hip.

“Remember me?”

There was no welcoming smile. There was no I’m-so-happy-to-see-you familiarity; just the darkly circled, exhausted eyes so common among the very young that were burdened with the weight of parenthood.

Ian offered her a smile. “Of course I do. I don’t recall the name but you’re Jordan’s babysitter, right?”

She shrugged. “Chrissy. And Emma.” She tilted her hip to draw attention to the child. “And kinda. We sit for each other actually. You live around here?”

“Kinda,” he grinned the parroted word back at her. “I’m one of those old farts that actually dig through their flyers for deals. So I make my rounds of the entire supermarket circuit.” He circled his arms dramatically.

She stared at him, straight-faced.

Ian folded his expression into a serious one. “For example,” he said, shaking the handful of leaf and vegetable. “Rapini: for the low-low price of still way too goddamned expensive.”

“So just get broccoli,” she said in monotone.

“You know, I was just thinking the same thing myself—”

“So, yeah,” Chrissy cut in, her impatience with his attempts at conversation obvious. “I was just thinking, since you’re here and all, that you might want to give me a ride back to my apartment.” She leveled her gaze with his suddenly blank one. “You do have a car, right?”

Without waiting for him to reply she continued, “They’ve got juice on sale if you buy the case. It’s real cheap. But I can’t very well load up on it, carry her,” she nodded at the babbling child, “and still fight my way over the bus system. I’m good, but I’m no freaking Black Widow if you know what I mean?”

Ian tilted his head at the reference, confused.

“Let me guess, you haven’t seen the movie.”

Apparently not, he thought, as his brain was still trying to make a comparison between a juice-juggling, hip-slung mom and a Soviet sniper-s***h-spy with skills in weaponry and martial arts. Somewhere, somehow, he knew he was missing something.

“I don’t think—”

“It’s real close. Only like…five minutes by car. Tops.”

He shook his head. “I don’t have a car seat?”

Chrissy shrugged. “There aren’t any car seats on the bus either. That doesn’t stop me from getting on it.”

“No, I suppose that’s true but—”

She smirked. “Jordan might be home.”

“J—” And just like that Ian’s heart was skipping in his chest.

“Are you kidding me?” his brain scoffed.

“Was she serious?” his belly chimed in.

“Do it!” his conscience bellowed.

Ian cleared his throat, c****d his head, and attempted suave. “Jordan?”

She rolled her eyes. “Save it. I know the whole story.”

Ian gave up on the rapini, dropped it back on the shelf, and tried to keep the bite out of his voice as he replied. “Oh you do, do you? And what story would that be?”

She shifted the child from hip to hip. “That he was looking for a f**k and found you. He said you looked like the perfect little out-for-a-fling suburbia husband and that you’d f**k him and then f**k off. Then he said you went all stalker on his ass.”

Ian frowned. His jaw tightened. “Asking someone out is what we refer to as stalking these days?” He stepped around Chrissy and picked up a head of broccoli, dropping it in his buggy with a clang. “I was unaware. My apologies.”

“Dude,” she said, stopping his buggy with one hand. “Relax. That’s exactly what I said. Jordan’s just…” She paused, circling her hand and shrugging. “Odd. Doesn’t know when he’s got a good thing on the line. God knows I’d take you for a roll if you were into girls. You look like you got some pretty good cash. It’s a damn shame actually.”

Ian smiled coldly. “Damn shame, indeed.”

“And you seem like a nice guy. But I’m mean, there’re a lot of nice guys out there. You seem like you got a little extra going on.” She grinned. “A deluxe package, you know?”

“Apparently not,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me—”

Chrissy’s face fell. “Aw, come on! Don’t make me walk. I get you care less about a chick like me but think about Emma. I’m not trying to buy frigging ice cream here. It’s juice for God’s sake!” She attempted a cute pout. “Help a girl out.”

Ian snorted. “And then I show up at your apartment, where Jordan obviously is from the sounds of things, and I’m getting arrested for harassing some poor, innocent young guy who thinks stalking is asking him out on a date. No thanks.”

“He’s not there-there, he’s just kind of there. I mean, he lives in the building but not in my apartment. I was just going to show you which apartment was his. You can’t get arrested just for being in someone’s hallway.”

Chrissy ran her free hand through her hair and shifted the baby yet again. “Besides, calling the cops would be the last thing Jordan would ever do. He doesn’t like them. He avoids them like the plague.”

Emma reached forward and began to bang on the wire of the buggy, her grinning, slightly snotty face as bright as sunshine.

“A f*****g stalker,” Ian’s wounded pride pouted.

“Juice for the baby,” his conscience countered and Ian sighed.

“Which direction is it?”