Chapter Ten
When we'd had our fill of 46-calorie chicken nuggets, we tossed what was left to some seagulls in the parking lot and made our way back through the streets of Atlanta, just walking and talking about stuff. She asked me about the grocery store and I recounted some of my favorite random 'let's ask the stock boy' questions (such as whether a particular tooth brush came in a different shade of red), and she told me about some of her regular customers at the cafe. It was during this point in our conversation when she paused, leaned against the building that bordered the sidewalk where we stood, and took my hands. "So," she said, looking up at me, "Who is Stock Boy?"
I smiled, "Besides the key crime-fighting hero of the Little Red Hen?"
"Yes, besides that," Kim nodded eagerly.
"I dunno, I'm just me, I guess," I answered.
She licked her lips as she thought and looked down at our hands, where they angled out from our torsos to meet in the middle between us. She swayed slightly, our hands swaying with her. Finally, she looked up, "I don't ask this to be rude," she said, "But what happened to your face?"
I looked away, down to my sneakers. "I don't really know," I answered.
Kim sighed. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she said, "I don't care that your face is like that." She paused, "That sounded callous. You know what I mean though, right? Like some people are cosmetic about things and I'm not. Jesus, I sound like a jerk. I'm sorry."
"No trust me, I know what you mean."
Kim broke one of her hands away from one of mine and lifted it to my face. "I think you're handsom."
I looked up at her. "Please," I laughed.
"No, I really do." Kim shook her head in a way that was meant to push away my disbelief.
"My face is anything but handsom," I replied, still disbelieving, despite her headshake.
"It shows you've been through something, Ben," Kim said, "It's a battle scar."
"I could've done without it."
She sighed, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to piss you off."
"I'm not pissed off."
"You are, I can feel it in your fingers." She swayed our hands that were still connected and fished with her free hand for my free hand. She grabbed hold of it and pulled both my hands until I stumbled closer to her and I was right in front of her and she was staring up at me. "Ben, your eyes are the most amazing eyes I have ever seen." Kim paused, tugged on my hand to urge me, and finally I looked at her. She smiled, "There they are." She searched my eyes with hers. "They're so deep and beautiful," she said quietly, "I feel like I could get lost in them forever. You know?"
"I guess."
"And I love the color of them. It's so rich."
"Two -almost three now- years ago a cop went on duty around midnight and went to patrol the park. He was going through there and he found me, laying on the grass unconscious and barely alive. I was in a coma for months. When I woke up - which they didn't think I was going to wake up - I couldn't remember anything. Not a fucking thing - not my name, not my age, not anything. And nobody had come for me at the hospital. I was alone, entirely, without even myself. And the worst part is however the hell I got to the park, and nobody knows because nobody knows who I was or what the hell I was doing there, my face was covered in lacerations and my nose was shattered and my jaw bone fractured. I was really fucked up, basically. So they reconstructed my face and tried to cover as many of the scars as they could, tried to heal me as much as possible, but I still ended up looking like this."
Kim's eyes had stayed focused directly on mine the entire time I spoke; her eyes dampened, and her lips sucked into her mouth in surprise and she squeezed my hands tighter. "Ben..." she whispered.
"That might not even be my real name, you know."
Kim pulled me into her fully, dropped my hands and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tightly. I awkwardly rested my arms across her back. Her face rested against my neck and upper chest and without moving she kissed my collar bone. "It's okay, I can just call you Stock Boy," she said into my chest.
"Joe won't mind, c'mon."
"Are you sure? I don't want to get you in trouble."
"I just said Joe won't mind."
"Okay."
Kim held open the door to the cafe. It was dark and the chairs were flipped up on top of the tables. They'd closed over an hour ago, but Kim had the key to the front door. We slipped in through the door and she relocked it. "Wait here, I'll go get the lights." She disappeared into the darkness and I stood by the door, unable to see much further than a couple feet away, where the light from the street lamps faded off. Instinctively, I walked forward along the indoor/outdoor runner of carpet toward the counter. A string of Christmas tree lights that were usually just an accent glow flicked on over the counter and gave the room a comfortable, dim light.
"Isn't it beautiful like this?" Kim asked, coming back out from the kitchen where she'd gone to turn the lights on. She looked up at the lights.
"It's nice," I replied, nodding.
"I always tell Joe we should keep the lights on like this all day rather than using those horrid flourescent things." She changed the filter in the coffee pot and started spooning grounds into it expertly. I leaned against the counter. "The usual, I assume?"
"Yeah," I laughed.
Kim smiled, "I figured." She grabbed two cups from the cupboard behind her - large, colorful in-house mugs - and tossed a tea bag into one and the sugar, cream, and nutmeg I liked into the other.
A few minutes later, we were sitting on the couch by an electric fireplace, sipping our drinks in the glow of the Christmas lights. Kim had her legs tucked beneath her and was facing me, while I was seated sideways, leaning against the arm of the couch. Kim put her chai tea down on the coffee table in front of us and reached for my coffee and put it down next to her tea. She leaned closer until she was practically sitting in my lap, braced herself by putting one arm on either side of my shoulders, and leaned in to kiss me. Her lips parted slightly when she kissed, and I could feel her breath entering my lungs. We sat like that for several long moments, our mouths searching each other, sharing breath. I steadied her, my hands on her hips. When she pulled away, she looked deep into my eyes again, a smile spreading across her face.
"You're really good at that," she commented.
"So are you."
Kim laughed and backed away, back to her own side of the sofa. She picked up her chai tea and took another long sip from the mug. I watched her, the way her fingers curved around the mug, the way she blew away the steam from the cup. Her hair, which had been in a knot on the back of her head all night, was loosening and a few long, wavy strands had escaped to frame her face.
"I swear to God I'm dreaming you," I said after I'd stared at her for quite some time.
She reached over and pinched my arm. "Did that hurt?"
"Only a litte."
She laughed. "Well you aren't dreaming anyways."
"Thank God."
Kim's eyes twinkled. "Maybe you could not-dream again tomorrow?" she asked.
I nodded. "Dreaming is overrated anyways. Not when you're around."
"You, Stock Boy, are a charmer."
"I try."
"You succeed."
After we'd finished our drinks and kissed a little bit more, Kim washed out the mugs and cleaned the coffee pot. We turned off the electric fire place and Kim unplugged the Christmas lights. She unlocked the front door and we stepped out into the street and she relocked the door. She turned to me, "Thank you," she said, "For a wonderful evening."
"Thank you," I replied.
Kim smiled. "See you tomorrow, Stock Boy."
"Tomorrow."
"Good night."
She turned, and walked away, and I watched her go until she disappeared around the corner of a city block before turning to my own apartment building across the street. Everything that happened kind of swam around in my head. My feet seemed lighter as I walked across the street and jogged up the stairs to my apartment. I laid in bed that night, bathed in the moonlight, staring up at the stucco mountains and valleys, imagining what it would be like if Kim were laying right beside me.
After Self by Pengi
