Coca Cola, Cupid, and a Red Rose

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Coca Cola, Cupid, and a Red Rose

         I was drinking a glass of Coca Cola and minding my own business when this guy came into McDonalds. I’d never seen him before, which is very strange, because in the little town in which I live, I know everyone.

         He was irresistibly good-looking, a little older than my sixteen years, but movie-star quality. How could I help drooling? Sophistication dripped from his fine-muscled body. He even walked with a swagger of fineness! Some hair dresser had stylishly molded his ink-black hair to show fullness in the front and smoothness all around. His suit, a gray pinstripe, emphasized the lean lines of his body, and his satin shirt, the color of blood stroked his muscled chest and arms. This man was simply too gorgeous for Honky Tonk City.

         I sighed and took another sip. He wasn't wearing boots, which was a little unbalancing for me, and I bet the man's head had never felt the weight of a good Stetson. But even so ... Wow! Strangely, the guy was wearing a red rose on his lapel! Sure, it was Valentine’s Day, but guys here don't wear flowers. They just don't!

         Mr. Hollywood ordered a shake, one of the red cherry ones that were special for the day. My mouth watered, and I felt like pouncing on him for it, but I was dieting, as usual. I calmed my heart and my stomach and took another sip of my diet cola.

         Nobody else was in the restaurant at that moment – well, except for the people who worked there, and they were all busy swiping down dirty tables or flipping burgers.

         The guy looked all around. He acted like he was looking for someone. I smiled. I don’t know why. I never do that with guys I don't know --- not that we have any -- who’d come to stockyard heaven? The smell of cow poop keeps tourists away.

         Mr. Movie Star started walking in my direction. He kept eye contact with me, and I found myself smiling like a baboon. I couldn't believe it when he slid into the seat across from me. I tried to put my lips together, but they just wouldn’t close, not with the clownish smile I was wearing.

         “I’m Cupid,” the guy said.

         I couldn’t help laughing. He called himself Cupid??? Wasn’t that one of Santa’s reindeer . . . and the name of the little guy who shoots people with arrows?

         I stuck my elbows on the table and leaned forward. “It’s Valentine’s Day, and you’re telling me your name's Cupid?”

         The guy's smile hit like an arrow. It panged.

         “Ouch,” I cried out and threw my hand over my heart.

         Cupid only smiled more broadly. Another arrow hit. I doubled over and starting slipping off the seat.

         “Easy there, girl,” Cupid soothed as he pulled me back up. “You were a little resistant. I had to give you two shots.”

         “What do you mean? Two shots?” I was feeling woozy. The ceiling fans were circulating with tiny, red hearts on each blade. I couldn’t watch them. I closed my eyes.

         “I think you’re ready now,” Cupid said, taking a noisy sip of his milkshake. He’d hit bottom, but he kept slurping. The noise was revolting.

         “Harry,” Cupid called out.

         I turned and looked. It was Harry walking over to our table all right -- Harry, the nerd. What did Cupid want with him?

         I glanced away from Harry and drooled up at Cupid. He was standing, ready to walk away from me.

         “I love you,” I cried out.

         I don't know what came over me, but I was suddenly crazy about this stranger. I needed him in my life. I craved his presence, his smile, his lips . . .

         Cupid smiled down at me. “That’s sweet, kid, but this is just my job. Have a good day."

         Then he turned and added, "Harry, kiss her quickly before she needs another shot.”

         I had stood up ready to cling to Cupid. I wasn’t going to let him leave me. Didn’t he know I loved him? Didn’t he see that I would ignore his slurps and his red lapel rose. I would ignore his lack of boots and the fact that he probably didn't even own a Stetson. I would ignore everything if he’d just. . .

         I was clinging at that moment to Cupid's pinstripe, crying out how much I loved him. My eyes weren't watching Harry.

         Harry seized me in an amazingly strong grip, pried my hands off Cupid's pinstripe, and hugged me against his chest. I was still crying, and I started fighting. That's when Harry grabbed my face and made me look into his eyes. I froze.

         Harry has green eyes. Have you ever really looked into eyes that color? They're like the leaves of trees as they whoosh with the wind. They're the reflection of sunshine. Each tiny leaflet flips back and forth, flashing with light, so bright and sparkly they're almost like coins -- green coins, dancing in currents of air...

          I quieted the moment I looked into Harry's eyes. Then his lips descended...

         One thing I have to say about Harry -- he sure can kiss! I never knew that nerds knew how. I never knew that nerds were so romantic and dashing, and, and ...

         “I love you, Harry,” I cried out as our lips parted.

         Harry nodded. “Good,” he said. “It’s about time.”

         Harry's smile showed strong, white teeth. His face was a good face, a quiet, reflective, hometown, comfortable face. I smiled up at him. His belt buckle was poking me, but it was somehow comforting. It reminded me that Harry was wearing boots and would definitely have a Stetson ready for wearing when he left the restaurant. I sighed and lay my head against his shoulder.

         Harry turned and looked at Cupid. I had forgotten the stranger's presence. Whatever pull Cupid had held over me was gone as suddenly as it'd come. How could I have thought I loved someone like him? Pinstripes in the country? Why didn't the guy wear jeans like everyone else? And that rose . . .

         “You want another shake before you go?” Harry asked Mr. Hollywood.

         Cupid shook his head and smiled smugly. "I take it you're satisfied with my work, Harry?"

         Harry was holding me tightly, but he nodded briefly, not taking his eyes from mine. I was still staring into his, transfixed, but puzzled enough by their exchange to wonder what was going on. I think I would have questioned it, but Harry suddenly kissed me again.

         I don't know where Cupid went, but when I came up for air, he was gone. "Oh, Harry,” I said, sighing loudly. “I never knew it could be like this.”

         Harry smiled down at me. “A month’s pay you cost me, Lisa, but you were worth every hamburger I flipped.

          I took a deep breath, ready to start in questioning.

          Cupid . . . arrows,. . . Valentine's Day?

          But then I shrugged and kissed Harry back. Some mysteries are better left unsolved.

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