What Rhymes With Orange

Almost Adam

Saturday morning held the promise of an exquisitely fine day. The sun was out more than ever and my level of optimism was at a rare high that I afforded to leave my sweaters and instead put on my navy blue cardigan. The soft cotton was especially compassionate to my skin. I showered early and had cereal for breakfast while trying to imagine what lay ahead, hoping lady luck won't stop smiling on us so we could make that sale. Marilyn, George and I were to meet Adam at the Central Market so we could show him the way to the farm by car. Meanwhile, I'd have to make a short walk to the bus station and ride for an hour just to get to Central. Then it was another hour to the farm. A bit tedious, but I didn't mind. Contrary to popular opinion I've actually loved long bus rides and extended travel by ship. None of that rushed airplane crap unless absolutely necessary. I've always treasured how long travel gives me time to think and appreciate my surroundings.

I quickly brushed my teeth in the kitchen sink and went back upstairs to double check myself in the mirror. My hair was still damp and out of sorts. Damn, forgot to comb my hair. I tied it up into a haphazard ponytail and pondered whether my plain white shirt, unbuttoned blue cardigan and gray Mary Janes were good enough. Does this say 'simple and honest' or 'I simply don't care what anyone thinks?' It took about five seconds before I made my decision. Fuck it. Both ideas were true anyway. With that in mind, I put my keys in my jeans pocket and walked out the door. The traffic was heavier than I expected but I still got to Central earlier than planned. As I walked towards the rendezvous point, my cellphone rang. It was Marilyn.

"Hi, Marilyn. You guys okay? I'm walking at Central right now."

"Oh, I knew you'd be early, miss. I'm sorry but we're gonna be late. There was an accident at the bridge and there's no going round it at the moment. We'll be there in fifteen, I promise!"

"No problem, I'm ahead of schedule anyways. Oh, how about Mr. Blake though? You called him yet?"

"Yes, miss. He said it was okay and he'll wait."

"Okay, great."

I tried to picture Adam, and that's when it hit me.

"Hey, Marilyn? You still there?"

"I'm here."

"Do you have an idea what Mr. Blake looks like, by any chance?"

"Right! He said look for average guy with brown hair wearing a gray shirt."

Well, fuck. I could instantly point out five guys here with that description.

There were some empty tables and chairs right in front of the market shaded by trees and one particular spot called out to me. I decided to sit and wait for Marilyn and George while scouting the grounds for "average guy in gray." From where I sat, I could see the rendezvous point (also known as the only Greek restaurant in Central) at my 11 o'clock. Nice. From this angle, I could spot any guy who walks into the bistro. I kept my eyes glued to the restaurant's glass doors. A few minutes into my stakeout, I felt someone tap my shoulder. "Excuse me. Is this seat taken?" It was a guy in a black fleece jacket, pointing at the chair to my right. "Oh no, no. It's all yours." I smiled casually and pulled the chair a little so he could grab it easily. "Thank you," he answered. He dragged the seat towards the table behind me and I looked back at the restaurant. Shoot. I hope I didn't miss them when I wasn't looking just now. I stood up, unsure whether to go into the bistro and search or keep waiting. I didn't want to go too far for fear of losing my seat, people were quickly filling up the other tables. I craned my neck and stood on my toes to try and get a view of the inside. "Excuse me." Another manly voice is trying to get my attention. I looked behind me to see who it was but found no one. "Down here." It was the guy in the jacket after all, still seated. "Sorry but I'm looking for some people and you're kind of in the way." I quickly sat down and replied, "Oh no, I'm so sorry." He smiled and said, "You are forgiven. A-are you waiting for someone, too?" Dear God. Small talk with a stranger. "Yeah, I am." It was a little awkward talking to the guy, since I had my back to him and I just twisted my head around to face him while he faced me directly. I could almost feel his breath on my face for crying out loud. I stood up to adjust my seat. "Sorry, it might be a little cramped on your side. Let me just move this... a little..." The chair made horrible noises as it scraped on the stone floor, its legs getting caught in the spaces between the tiles. Fucking embarrassing. Why does this always happen to me? The guy quickly interrupted, "No, that's okay! Ah-if you don't mind I'll just move to your table instead." I looked over to my front and there was an empty seat right across me. "Yeah, sure. Seat's right here." I gestured towards the empty chair. He sat down, hands on his thighs just above the knees, exhaling loudly. I had the chance to observe him much better up close. He had deep-set eyes, a prominent jaw and some stubble, rugged 30-ish features that I thought looked Spanish or Italian. He's no cheesy, Herculean soap opera hunk but he wasn't half bad. He had an average smile, an air of authority, but not intimidating. He seemed to me like the type of guy who's serious when he needs to be but also very loose and casual otherwise. Not too tall, the length of his limbs were just right. He wore navy blue jeans and taupe boat shoes. An awkward silence filled the air for a few moments. Dammit. Now someone has to start talking. Maybe I should ask where he's from. His name? Who he's waiting for? His fucking shoe size? Anything!? I started to talk.