Rom-Com Heaven

4

The weekend. At the supermarket. I haven't talked to Shirl since the day Ben announced his resignation, at least a week ago. Why hasn't she approached me?

Why haven't I approached her?

No. Bad things always happen when I approach a girl.

I consult my list. Broccoli. Sighing, I heave my trolley along to the vegetable section, and examine a plastic-covered broccoli. It feels soft and mushy, but I throw it in the trolley anyway, and consult the next item on my list. Why do I need to do shopping? All I can think of is-

I stop.

Shirl is on the other side of the fruits & vegetable section, sniffing at an orange. God, she looks attractive, even doing that. She's wearing a bright pink cardigan and tight, faded denim jeans. I take a deep breath, and pretend to examine more broccoli.

I should go talk to her.

I really should.

Perhaps even... ask her out?

Before I can stop myself, I begin to stride towards her, leaving the trolley and broccoli behind. I stride and I stride and I stride, every step heavier than the last, heavier. But I keep on striding.

"Shirl?" I'm here already. My voice comes out weak and shivery, like a splintery table with trembling legs on the verge collapse.

Her eyes widen with surprise. She looks around, then finds me. She smiles. "Hey! How you doing?" She seems happier today, perkier.

Perhaps because I'm here.

"I'm good," I say, newfound confidence bubbling within me. I pause. "How are you?"

"Good. Great, in fact. Yeah." She takes an orange and places it in a bag. She looks me up and down. "You shopping?"

I grin. "What else would I be doing?"

"Good point, good point."

I clench my fist behind my back, bobbing up and down. Yes... perhaps my sister is right - perhaps I should ask her out! It seems very possible in this moment, and very likely that I'll get a yes... Okay, I have to do it. I have to do it now. Here it goes. Here is my carpe diem moment, my now or never.

"Shirl?"

"Yes?"

I pause, stop bobbing. Every heartbeat feels like a labour, every breath like lifting a weight. "Would you..." I have to do it, I have to. "Would you like to go out with me?"

I'm staring at the beige ground. I force my eyes up, to meet hers. She's looking at me, biting her bottom lip as though concerned.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I... I've just started dating someone, actually."

"Oh, have you?" My heart panics. Every fibre in my being vibrates with hate. "Okay..." I pause. "That's fine. I'll just go back to my shopping then."

"Okay." She takes an orange, a half-green one, and pushes it up against her nose. "Bye, then."

"Bye." I walk away, slowly, deliberately.

Before I know it, I'm back at my trolley. I stare down at my list, which, it turns out, I'd dropped on the broccoli in my enthusiasm. And such enthusiasm I had.

I sigh.

Then I stop.

Something feels wrong. In my bones, something feels very, very wrong.

I frown, considering the feeling. Does it have something to do with Shirl? Of course it does. I sift through my memories of what has just happened, examining every detail. Every... detail...

Yes, something in this definitely feels... wrong.

I look over at her, but she's gone. In her place stands an aged woman, considering the oranges before her. Disgusting in comparison. I turn back to my broccoli, staring it down like it's Ben from my office.

I know what it is. I know what's wrong.

I love Shirl and she doesn't love me back and my bones know that's not right. That's what's wrong.

What would Knox Overstreet do with such rejection? He wouldn't back down. He kissed her and, in the end, they got together. Perhaps I have to do the same. To make her see me for what I really am. I have to kiss her.

Yes, that is the answer.

I've been bullied and ridiculed as a nerd, a freak, Mr. Four-Eyes, a creep, over and over again throughout school and university and my professional life and in every corner I walk. Even my sister once called me an ugly prat. Ugly. Nerdy. Creepy. Prat.

I haven't endured all of that simply to see myself rejected by the girl of my dreams. This is not how carpe diem works. Seize the day, Mr. Keating said in the film. Carpe diem.

My hands are shaking.

It's finally time for me to seize my day.

I leave the trolley and broccoli behind, and stride down the aisles. Searching, searching. A kind of maddening rush is in me now, like strawberries in my blood, sweet and pure. I can almost smell them within me. I can almost smell her. My sweet, beautiful Shirley Rose.

I've walked down every aisle, but she hasn't been in a single one. Not anywhere. Damn. Perhaps if I wait at the counters...

Yes, that's what I'll do.

I start for the counters. This newfound energy is making my feet lighter, lighter with each step, until they are like newborn spring leaves. I reach the counters. My gaze passes over them. There are old men and aged women and young couples and gurgling babies. But not her.

I look out the window. There she is, crossing the road.

Gritting my teeth, I leave the supermarket. I come out onto the pavement. The air is cold and full of the sounds of car horns and clanking footsteps. Chaotic sounds, sounds I've always hated, sounds of the busy city. Shirl disappears around a corner. Cursing under my breath, I follow.

I come around the corner she did, and see her just in time as she turns another. I start a light jog. I won't lose her, I won't loser her. I won't. A voice inside is egging me on, in my bones, my spine, my arms, every fibre and every cell. The voice is of Mr. Keating. Carpe diem. Of Knox Overstreet and Chris, and all the romantic heroes and heroines, granting me more and more energy. Seize the day. I turn the corner she turned. She's crossing a street now. My jog grows a little faster. My coat billows with a harsh gust of wind, like it's trying to beat me back. As if it could. I'll follow her. I'll follow her to the end of the earth, and catch her and hold her and-

Someone lands a hard hand on my chest. Cars stream in front of me, flowing over the road like toxic ants spotting a feast. I look at the man who stopped me, gritting my teeth.

"Be careful, boy." He drops his hand from my chest. "Could've been seriously injured there."

I make ready to punch him. Stop myself. What am I thinking? With this thought, all the energy dissipates, spilling from me and splattering onto the concrete like juice. (Strawberry juice.) What am I thinking? Why am I following her? Is it as my sister said? As Ben said?

Am I a creep?

"You ain't gonna say thank you, boy? I just saved your life."

I look up at him. "Yes, I'm sorry. Thank you." I'm thanking him in more ways than he thinks. He might have just rescued me from insanity as well as serious injury. "Thank you."

Might have.

I wait for the traffic light to turn green.