Weeping Willow (A Mystical Love Story)

The car was small and compacted. My older brother, Patrick and I have been in there for 16 hours not stopping unless for food at local diner, a gas at a crummy station and a potty breaks every four hours. We hadn’t breathed one word to each other since we got on this trip. Maybe if the circumstances were different the results of our communication would change. But right now I think I’m going to Maser, Louisiana under the worst reason I could bear to think of.

The fading smell of apples and cinnamon that was oozing into the air from an old car freshener that was dangling from the rear- view mirror was giving me a lethal headache. I rubbed my temples with my middle and index fingers.

 I looked outside the window trying to find comfort as the blurred object filled my vision. I closed my eyes and try to remember home, Fredericksburg, Virginia. The car came to a complete stop, forcing my brother and me forward.  “Sorry,” he murmured as he opened his door to get out. That was the first time we spoke.

 As he stumped off I took in my surroundings. We were stop at a coffee shop. A very modern coffee shop, with dimmed lights and younger people drinking and whispering to the person they arrived with. There were soft music filling my ears but I was too hungry to take it all in. We snagged a small, round table to sit at. There was a small woman with jet black hair that arrived to our table.

“What would you like?” She whispered but surprisingly I could hear her just fine.

 “I would like…” I looked over the brown menu I had, “A croissant, 2 glazed doughnuts, a biscotti, a peanut butter chocolate chip cookie, a set of scones, one blueberry muffin, a cinnamon roll, and a large green tea frappuccino?” I ate a lot, always had. But no matter how much I ate, I never went above a hundred pounds.

 The lady peeked at me and said, “Are you eating for two, honey?”  I was hurt but not surprised. It wasn’t the first time someone said that. I hated when they did. The anger bubbled inside and was filling me up.

 Before I could retort something back anything back at her, Patrick ordered. He was saving her ego, her life, and the ears of the other people around us. While the woman walked off I looked around. I saw a boy around my age playing the guitar on the stage filling the coffee house with beautiful tunes. His guitar resembled mine. A midnight blue acoustic that got darker around the edges. My gaze shifted upwards to his face.

 Then he looked my way as if I called him. Oh my goodness!

 The woman returned with our food, which was piping hot. I learned that the hard way by grabbing the muffin and it was thrown out of my muffin on the ground, causing the attention of everyone and even the guitar dude. Crap! I felt ashamed not because I made a scene but because I was worrying about some guy while my mom was in a coma. I shivered even though it was late summer.

 Guitar dude bowed low and gave me a wink. I choked on my tea, causing the same attention. Man these people needed a life than making fun of mine.

I mumbled a excuse to go to the bathroom to Patrick. I went up to the cashier who was fumbling with trying to open the old onyx cash register.

“Um, excuse me,” I interrupted his little fit. “Where is the restroom?” He thought about it for a while. He must be a newbie.

 “Go down that hallway and make a left and you should see the kitchen. Then the opposite door of that you should see it.” He went back to fumbling. I finally found the bathrooms. There was two doors. One was a picture of a dog with glasses and a cigarette in its mouth. The word on top that said, ‘GENTZ’. The girls were a cat with a cup of coffee. ‘GIRLIES’ was written on top .I was a sucker for animals. I giggled and went thru the girl doors.

 I was shocked to see guitar dude washing his hands. He saw me threw the mirror. Oh crap.

 “This is a girl’s bathroom!” I shouted then regretted it.

 “The guy’s restroom was crowded.” He said looking at his soapy hands.

 “Oh.”

 “I’m not going to bite you, hard.” He chuckled in cute voice.

I forced myself not to giggle.

“I’m Spencer; do you have a name angel?” He had a nice voice, like a child. But it was so bubbly.

 “Um, I’m Willow Delaney.” It probably wasn’t safe to give him my name but what the heck.

 He was done washing his hands. He dried them on his shirt. It left dark navy blue strikes on his pale teal of his shirt.

 “So angel, will I see at The Hemisphere around midnight?” He asked.

 “What’s The Hemisphere?”  He gave me a look as if I was dumb. I was new, what did he expect.

 “It’s in the back of the coffee house. It’s a club.”

 “I’m 17,” I said. There might be a bouncer or something checking driving licenses.

 “It doesn’t matter. My brother owns it. So will I see you there?” I thought about it for a while. There was a lot going on in my life but maybe this would help me sort some things out.

“Most defiantly,” I said. He walked out with a smirk on his face.