A Place on My Pillow

“What are you doing?” someone pestered Polly later that month while she was trying to pick something out of Otto’s paw. He whimpered and licked at her hand. She gently pushed the puppy’s muzzle away, trying not to hurt him.

“I’m busy!” Polly finally snapped, after the person asked three or four times. She thought it had been obvious what she doing. She didn’t think it needed much of an explanation.

The puppy went in to try and lick the wound again, causing Polly to push his mouth away yet again. “Otto, stop. I’m getting it out.”

They’d been in a park, sleeping on an open bench since it was so warm outside. She took advantage of the nice weather when she could. Homeless shelters embarrassed her, to be honest. She hated sleeping on their hard cots that smelled of stale cigarettes and cheap beer. She hated looking around at the occupants, their nails caked in dirt and their hair straggly. She especially hated seeing those who were younger than she was, fresh out of high school, still full of hope and dreams. The streets quickly knocked both of them out of you, whether it was the unfriendly glares from others in your position or gazes of pity from better-off passersby.

“Sorry. I was just. Sorry,” the voice was suddenly small and apologetic, stumbling and stuttering to get the amends out. Polly sighed and glanced up at the speaker.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude. I’m sorry.”

She was exhausted, because it’s really difficult to get a good night’s sleep on a cold, hard park bench with slots bigger than your hand. Otto kept slipping off.

“I’m Alex,” he offered his hand out to Polly. She smiled and took it in her free and clean hand, shaking it politely.

“Polly.”

“Don’t meet many Pollys nowadays,” Alex commented.

“No, you don’t. You especially don’t meet many Pollyannas,” she replied.

“I’m assuming that you’re Pollyanna.”

“Yep.”

“Well, if it helps, I’m Alessandro.”

“Really?” Polly asked, trying to suppress the giggle in her throat.

“Yes. Really! My sister got the cool name,” he pouted. Otto’s attention was on the stranger, his tail wagging. Alex reached forward and pet the puppy. Polly took the opportunity to pull the tiny splinter out of his paw but Otto was so preoccupied by the stranger’s touch that he didn’t even notice.

“What’s your sister’s name?”

“Cadence. But I guess that’s what you get for having a pureblood Italian mother and a born-and-raised Englishmen for a father.”

“My mom really loved Pollyanna, by Eleanor Porter. The book? Yeah, I’m named after it’s main character. Pollyanna Dianne Salisbury,” Polly said. This was the most she’d ever told someone recently. Once she was on the streets, nowhere to turn for safety, she refused to open up to anyone. She would listen to anyone’s life story, but they would get no mouthful about herself in return.

Except for this young gentleman.

Polly inspected Alex slowly, trying to find out something different about him that made her want to confide in him.

He had a tall, gangling frame, made up almost entirely of limbs. He had a strong jaw though, and high cheekbones that sat below the prettiest, biggest hazel eyes that Polly had ever seen. He had an average sized nose, with a large freckle on the left nostril. Below that was a pair of light pink, barely chapped lips. Atop his head sat a mop of messy, borderline unkempt light brown hair. Polly noticed how his hands were rough and calloused, made that way from hours of hard, manual labor. He had a nice smile, white teeth all present and straight for the most part. It reached his eyes and oh, how they lit up with the expression. He wore a plaid button-up shirt, left open over a light blue plain t-shirt, paired with jeans that were naturally worn and faded. The pant legs were a couple of inches too long, the hem tucked up under Alex’s heel on his sneakers. He was, overall, the cutest man around her age that Polly had come across in quite awhile.

“You’re checking me out,” Alex laughed. Polly shrugged.

“And if I am?”

“I don’t have a problem with it. I’m flattered. Pretty girl like you? Hell, I’m floored, actually.”

“Why’s that?”

“Let’s just say that I’m not the most attractive guy, never have been. Girls don’t, erhm, prefer me, not when there’s guys like Scout Morgan in the world.”

“Scout Morgan?” Polly asked, confused.

“Forget it.”

“You can tell me,” she offered, letting Otto out of her lap but holding onto his leash. He bounced around the pair, sniffing at the air and barking at bikers and joggers who passed by on the path 5 feet from him.

“It’s nothing. He was just this really attractive jerk I went to school with. He was everything any girl could want. He was athletic, smart, funny. He was the school’s golden boy. He went to Harvard on a football scholarship, full ride. He helped little old ladies cross the street! He was just, perfect and an asshole to guys like me.”

He shook his head, his hair flying with the motion. It settled down and all Polly could focus on was the one stray strand that stood up away from the rest. She reached towards him and instinctively brushed the hair flat. She blamed it on her childhood environment, where everything had to be neat and orderly, but secretly she knew it was just because she wanted to see if his hair was as soft as it looked.

“You know, I never liked guys like that,” Polly replied.

“Really?”

“Yeah. This guy I liked was nothing like that. Or, okay, he was exactly like that, except he was nice to everyone. He didn’t go to college on a scholarship, and he didn’t help little old ladies across the street. And my school wasn’t really too keen on him, because he was a bit of a jokester, constantly pulling pranks. He just, he was perfect without anyone catching on,” she said nostalgically.

“Sounds great,” Alex murmured. She nodded and stared at her hands. She missed that boy, that perfectly imperfect boy with the laugh like wind chimes and the eyes like oceans. She shook the thought from her mind, avoiding the memories that threatened to flood through her. If the memories came, so would the tears. She wouldn’t cry. No more tears.

“Sorry. Nostalgia gets me sometimes,” Pollyanna apologized and smiled at Alex. He returned it easily, and there was that light in his eyes.

“I should get back to my house. Cady’s gonna worry where I’ve gotten to,” Alex said.

“You live with your sister?” Polly asked curiously. Alex nodded.

“Yeah, it would feel weird not having her there with me. I mean, she is my twin after all.”

He got up, dusted off his butt before heading off towards home. He stopped and turned back to Polly after a few steps.

“Can I have your number?” he asked bluntly. She liked that he didn’t beat around the bush.

“Uhm, you could, if I had a phone.”

“You are something special, and something extremely strange, Pollyanna Salisbury,” he commented. He started off again. Once again, he turned back around. “Stick around!”

“Why would I do that?” I asked.

“I’ll be back in an hour. I want to take you out to dinner.”

Again, he was straight to the point.

“Fine. You have one hour, Alessandro. If you’re not back in an hour, I’m leaving!” Pollyanna laughed. He grinned.

“One hour,” he promised and dashed off, before he distracted himself again.

“One hour,” Polly echoed, a smile permanently fixed to her face.