Smoothies Are Kind of Important

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.” For once, I had nothing to say back to James, because I, too, couldn’t believe we were actually doing what we were.

Both of us were standing in front of the smoothie shop in the strip mall. It was an unseasonably chilly day; instead of suffocating from heat, there was a gentle breeze that kissed everything cool.

The sun beat down on our backs. My mom had nearly attacked us with sunscreen on the way out of the house, though neither of us had ever gotten a burn a day in our lives, mumbling things about how having naturally tan complexions meant nothing to skin cancer. We complied so she wouldn’t have an aneurysm.

I was wearing a blue tank top that was faded from too many runs through the wash and white shorts, my beat-up Gladiator sandals on my feet. Tan lines crisscrossed on my feet from the straps. James wore a gray t-shirt and black basketball shorts, sneakers tapping restlessly on the cement sidewalk. His hands were in his pockets. In the grand scheme of things, what we were wearing didn’t seem that important. Compared to what we were about to do, though, it seemed important to make note of it.

The smoothie shop was decked in various sickening shades of pink, ribbons of it hanging in the window displays. Cardboard pink hearts were taped to every available surface. On a large piece of pink paper, written in a slightly darker shade of pink marker were the words Couples Discount Day!

Which meant that the smoothies were being sold at a ridiculously discounted price, obviously leading to the next fact, which was that I needed one. Desperately.

The smoothie shop was the only decent one in town, a title it won for being the only smoothie shop in town. They were aware of this fact too, because their prices were steeped so high that most of the time I only tasted smoothies in my dreams.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures. Smoothies are kind of like, important.” I said, glancing at James.

“How important, do you think?”

“I would probably sell my brother. He’s old enough now. It’s time he left the nest.”

“Which brother?”

I took a moment to mull the question over. “Probably Edward. I think his absence would be most appreciated by everyone. Maybe the entire world.”

James nodded his head in agreement and held a hand over his dark eyes to shield them from the sun. I reached over and artfully mussed up his hair, pulling a knot and laughing when he grumbled about the pain.

“Are you trying to trigger my early-onset balding?” He complained, rubbing the sore spot.

I rolled my eyes. “That trigger was pulled ages ago.”

I pulled the hair tie binding my hair to my head off and it fell down past my shoulders, dark and curly and unruly and just generally annoying. James and I faced each other.

He grinned, showing all of his pearly white teeth. (They were a recent development, because he was determined to blind people with the brilliance of his teeth. James spent a lot of money on Crest White Strips.)

“Milena Santos, would you like to be my honorary smoothie girlfriend?” He held out his hand and bowed, all gentleman-like. I took his hand and twined our fingers together.

“We’ll be the best smoothie couple this world ever did see.”

***

The smoothie shop was eternally tropical. Even in the worst of winters, when the whole of Long Island had gotten over a foot of snow, the smoothie shop had inflatable palm trees coated in ice and colorful signs that told anyone who dared that if you wore a pair of flip-flops into the store, you’d get any free smoothie of your choice.

We’d nearly gotten frostbite for that one. Recuperation entailed soaking our feet in warm water and praying that we’d keep all of our appendages. While sipping on smoothies, of course.

When we walked in, hands intertwined, the tropical theme had been dialed up to extreme. Palm trees in every medium were everywhere, as well as paper cutouts of flip-flops. Bamboo made up the wall lining, leis adorning every light fixture. Abused beach balls rolled across the floor like tumbleweeds from Old West films. I half expected the smoothie shop to receive a formal lawsuit from every tropical island on the planet demanding their palm trees back. In essence, the smoothie shop was a fusion of every stereotype from every tropical island, ever.

The place was packed beyond belief with lovey couples clutching smoothie cups and each other. A line five couples deep was formed in front of the single register. A lone ranger escaped from the store with his smoothie, the only one not part of a pair.

“This is going to actually take forever,” James commented, peering over the heads of the couples in front of us to observe the one currently at the register. A man was looking exasperatedly at his boyfriend, who seemed unsure of which smoothie to chose. I could blame neither of them.

“It’ll be forever before we get another chance to actually afford a smoothie, so I suggest that you suck it up.”

James looked mortally wounded. “I’m filing for divorce. I can’t take this kind of treatment anymore.”

I rolled my eyes. “The kids will miss you. I’ll be sure to tell them that their father was a wimp and couldn’t handle waiting in line a for a smoothie.”

He was pensive for a moment, thinking of a good comeback. “Actually, I don’t think I’m ready to pay child support yet. Divorce rescinded.”

I laughed. “I’m so glad that we’ve managed to overcome our differences.”

The couple in front of us, two women with a baby stroller between them, edged further up line uncomfortably. It didn’t escape our notice, and we had to hide our laughter.

On the drive here, we had discussed at length what we would do if someone that knew us (and subsequently, knew that the likelihood of coupledom in our future was similar to Romeo & Juliet in the way that it would probably end in death) were in the shop.

The solution was nothing, because everyone and their dead ancestors have asked us if we’re dating at one point or another. Clearly for everyone else, it wasn’t much of a leap to make.

It was another twenty minutes before we reached the counter, ready to order. James had wrapped his arm around my shoulders for posterity’s sake. I held the hand that hung down over my shoulder, occasionally pinching his fingers because it was kind of funny. I figured they couldn’t outright ask us for proof that we were dating, and decided to aid their plight with a visual.

“Welcome to Smoothie Beach Bar! What would you like to order?” The cashier looked dead tired and annoyed, but her voice was happy. It was a little jarring.

“Strawberry Lemonade, please,” I said immediately, because the only smoothie worth getting was Strawberry Lemonade and no one could convince me otherwise.

James took a little longer to decide, his brow furrowed as he peered up at the menu, and I felt like the man who was watching his boyfriend struggle with indecision. The couple behind us was older and also annoyed, the woman whispering to her boyfriend about “teenagers these days”. I not so discreetly sent her a glare before looking back at the cashier, smiling as if to say Isn’t he cute when he’s thinking?

After it snowed three feet in the Sahara and a stable human colony had been established on Pluto, James finally decided, asking politely for a Paradise Point smoothie, which consisted of strawberries, bananas, and pineapples.

The cashier tapped a few things on the screen, read out the price (a full twenty dollars less than it would have normally been!), and I handed her the cash before James could.

As we stepped away to the pick-up counter, James scowled.

“You’re destroying my man-cred,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow. “We’ve had this discussion. Man-cred doesn’t exist. Don’t make me slap you.” I flicked the side of face and grinned when he looked thoroughly chastised.

The wait for our smoothies was blessedly only a few minutes long. A harried-looking employee handed us the cups and straws before nearly sprinting back into the kitchen.

“This the best smoothie I’ll probably ever have in my entire life,” I said, sipping my glorious Strawberry Lemonade smoothie as we left the shop, a little bell above the door signaling our exit, and put as much distance between us and the madness as possible.

“If we’re careful, we might be able to conserve them until the next discount day. Sip sparingly. Winter is coming.”

I punched his arm.