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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1428301-Only-on-Tuesday
by Harley
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Romance/Love · #1428301
It's her birthday. Today she'll do something different.
Lindsey was a creature of habit. Every morning after the 6 a.m. alarm and a shower, she sat at her desk and wrote for a few hours. A boy on her bus ride to work inspired her. They had not said hello or even made small talk. A few bashful glances were all that had passed between them over the years. She wrote poems and narratives that illustrated her desire for him, a shrine in hope of someday showing him.
This boy enchanted Lindsey. Images of him seeped into her words. His baggy clothes dressed the characters in her stories; his brown hair flopped over their blue eyes. He was a pleasant distraction.
"Lindsey, breakfast is ready." Lindsey's grandmother lived in the main house. She enjoyed making breakfast of coffee and bagels for her grand daughter.
"Thanks, Lala. I'll be right down." Lindsey lived in the converted apartment over the garage. She used to live inside with her grandmother; the privacy had been a graduation present. "Ok, Lindsey. It's time to face your birthday."
Lindsey enjoyed breakfast in the backyard gazebo with her grandmother every morning before her not-so-scenic alley walk by overflowing trash bins and grass choked chain link fences to the bus stop. Today had started off like any other, but it was soon to change.
"Lindsey, before you go. Take this with you. It's not much." A piece of green currency fluttered between wrinkled fingers.
"Thanks, Lala, but..." Lindsey reached for the money but stopped.
"Today, do something different. Go buy yourself something. Get a new dress, a new pair of shoes. It is your birthday, after all." The old woman had a stern look in her eye that Lindsey had seen many times.
"Thanks, Lala." Lindsey took the paper and stuffed it in her pocket. Maybe not a dress or a pair of shoes, but she knew the first thing she was going to buy. A blue puffball keychain at the shop next to the bookstore she worked at had her name it.
"Now, are you going to be home same time tonight?" The old woman picked up her cup of tea and sipped at the warm liquid.
"Oh, I don't know. I'll probably be home around normal time. Wait, you aren't throwing a party are you?" Lindsey looked terrified. The last birthday party thrown for her ended early with the news of her parents' death in a hit and run accident. They had driven to the store for a last minute present. "You know how I feel..."
"I know no parties. Don't worry. I just wanted to have an idea so I could plan dinner. I'm still making you your birthday dinner." Lala continued to sip her tea with a nonchalant look.
"Ok, Lala, I have to jet before I miss my bus." Lindsey gathered up stacks of paper and pens she had strewn out during breakfast and tossed them into an oversized bag she used as a backpack.
"Have a good birthday, Lindsey. I love you." Lala had set her empty, tea stained cup on the table.
"I love you too, Lala. See you later." Smiling, Lindsey crossed the backyard to the alley gate.
The alley was her regular path to the bus stop. Every morning she left out the gate at 8:15. It took her four minutes to walk to the stop and the bus arrived at 8:23. Today should have been no different.
The stop should have been empty. She should be waiting the four minutes in solitude until the bus arrived. But this was not the case. His t-shirt wavered in the breeze around his backpack that hung as low as the straps would allow. It was him. The same boy, who basked in her dreams and visions, motivated her writing.
He stood in silence, as if pretending she hadn't walked up. Lindsey saw his eyes dart away as she walked closer, shaded behind dark sunglasses. She smiled, in hopes of catching his attention again.
"Hey. I've seen you around here before." He broke through an unknown barrier that had settled between them. Her smile worked.
"Yeah, I live just down the way, with my grandmother." Lindsey was what you might call an introvert who wanted to be noticed but without drawing attention to herself. She kept to herself, but he had a way of drawing the extrovert out.
"You always on this bus?" He shuffled his feet.
"Yes. I have work. It's just up the road." Lindsey's stammered words couldn't hide the nervous introvert that lived inside her.
"Man, I feel like skipping work today. I know we just met but, you game?" His fingers combed through the lock of brown that fell on the side of his face.
"I can't just..." Lindsey knew she had responsibilities, she had work; the look in his eyes from over the top of his sunglasses melted her. Her knees wanted to buckle, her body wanted to lie down.
"Give me one reason why today isn't special, why you shouldn't skip work, and I'll leave you alone." He had turned his full body to face her.
"Do you know what today is?"
"Is that a trick question?" His shades had slipped down, exposing his puzzled blue eyes.
"I guess it is." Lindsey smiled into his eyes. She knew he was right, today was special. "This glorious Tuesday, is my twenty-sixth birthday."
"Awesome. Let's go celebrate." His enthusiasm was infectious, but the introvert inside tried to be logical about the situation.
"Ok, but its 8 o'clock in the morning. What can we do this early?" Lindsey fumbled around in her bag. The bus was a block away from the stop.
"Oh, ye of little faith. You said you live close to here, right?" He had slung his backpack around to one shoulder and was digging around in the front pocket. "Here we go." He had produced a small tin that had once been used for those tiny mints that were way too strong. He opened and closed the tin quick enough for her to just see, inside was two small white pills and a rolled up piece of cellophane. "I have these if you want, it's your birthday. But, it'll be an adventure, no matter what we do."
"I don't know about that stuff, but come on, it's just a few houses down." Lindsey wasn't sure what she was doing, but she had grabbed his free hand and together they ran down the alley. She felt inspired. "I have something I want to show you."
© Copyright 2008 Harley (girlharley at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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