OCD | A Short Story

II.

                                                 CHAPTER TWO

Patting the wallet in my back pocket at a steady pace for comfort, I stared. The words my mother used far too often echoed in my head. Don’t stare, it makes people uncomfortable. Don’t stare, it makes people uncomfortable. Don’t stare, it makes people – it’ll make her uncomfortable. I couldn’t help but stare. I couldn’t help but run my eyes over every fragment of her face, the thinness of her lips, the freckles on her nose, the freckles on her nose, the freckles on her nose. I felt the urge to count them much like I counted my mother’s wrinkles. One, two, three, four... fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen... twenty four, twenty five –

“Hey there, welcome to Regina’s. Can I take your order?” I blinked a few times and looked up at the girl. She was speaking to me. Her voice was like silk. If her words were a blanket, I’d hide under them way into the day. If her words were a cassette, I’d play her on my radio until the tape wore undone.

“Yes, please,” I began, skimming my eyes over the menu above her head – though I already knew what I wanted. I always knew what I was getting here; I came here every Saturday. “I’ll have a berry tea and a skinny latte with extra whipped cream.” My heart was in my throat. My eyes stung from not blinking. All I could do was gaze with my lips parted in awe, wondering why on Earth I’d never seen her here before. I would surely recognize a face like hers.

Deborah, as her name tag read, turned around to press various buttons on a machine. If that was anyone else, I would’ve looked in the other direction and grimaced at the way she was so careless with her fingers. But this time, I couldn’t tear my eyes from her presence. I watched how she could make something so sloppy turn into something so interesting – she made messy seem beautiful. I didn’t even feel the urge to race home and wash my hands. If she was a germ, I’d happily let her sneak into my skin and weaken my immune system, just so she could be a part of me, even for a small while. She was so clumsily alluring.

She spun on her heel to face me after preparing the first drink, or so I assumed. She stared at me like I stared at her, except her eyes were wide and happy and wild. My eyes were doe-y and feeble and scared – sometimes my mother compared me to a deer trapped in the headlights. She would say I acted as though I was anxious of everything, and that I looked as though the whole world was out to get me. She was somewhat right.

The way Deborah looked at things suggested something opposite to my own actions; she scanned out of interest, and I scanned out of my fear for germs and all things – and people – unknown. I liked knowing things.

“So, you have a bit of an appetite when it comes to Regina’s, huh?” A crooked grin curled on her lips, and I noticed that the lower one was plumper than I had originally thought. Her teeth were a pearly white, but she had one missing at the back. That didn’t bother me either.

“Excuse me?” I asked, wary of what she meant. She just kept smiling.

“Well, you ordered two drinks. You either can’t decide so you chose to be greedy, or you have a girlfriend waiting outside.” Deborah nodded in the direction of the door where a thin girl stood by the large window that took up the majority of the wall. She held a cigarette between her lips and a lighter in her hands. I cringed. Smoking disgusted me. You could look clean on the outside, but the germs are on the inside. Not just under your skin, but contaminating your lungs. I hated smoking. I hated smoking. I hated smoking. I would never smoke.

“Unfortunately, Deborah, I don’t have a girlfriend.” Finally I cracked a small smile, skimming my eyes from the girl outside the window and then to the girl leant over the counter. She didn’t care about who had touched it before her. She didn’t care about germs. I wish I didn’t care about germs. In Regina's coffee shop, germs were all I thought about. I didn't like leaving the house. “The skinny latte is for my mother.”

“You’re a mummy’s boy then, yeah? That’s sweet. And my name is Paige, not Deborah. It’s nice to meet you.”

Paige. I smiled and lightly shrugged my shoulders. She stuck out her hand. She wanted me to shake her hand. She wanted me to shake her hand. She wanted me to shake her hand. I felt sweat prickle at the tops of my shoulders and wander down my back. Heat crept up my neck. I gazed at her hand for a lengthy few seconds until she waggled her fingers to get my attention, laughing softly; her laugh was like bells chiming with a hint of the awkward moment. I moved my hand towards hers and came to a sudden halt. She’s touched that counter with the lower halves of her arms. I might touch the germs. I hated germs.

I began to think about flu tiptoeing into my mouth and tummy bugs wriggling inside me. I couldn’t shake her hand, I just couldn’t. If I tried, I would race to the nearest bathroom and wash my hands until layers of skin peeled and wrinkled. I wanted to go home. I wanted to go home. I wanted to go home. But I wanted to stay. I wanted to count her freckles one more time.

“My name is Cameron and I can’t shake your hand but it’s nice to meet you, too.” I spoke too quickly, before I’d even thought through what I was going to say. I sounded stupid. I sounded stupid. I sounded stupid. She was going to laugh at me. My throat went dry and my heart seemed to sink. Paige just smiled and nodded as if she understood. How could she understand?

“It’s cool. Here are your drinks.” And then she handed me the two drinks in a double cup-holder. I didn’t even notice that she had continued to make them, what with my concentration being so focused on the curve of her lips and the small brown marks dotting her cheeks and the dirty blonde hair that lay straight over her shoulders and waved towards the tips.

I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, but first I counted each freckle. She just smiled.