Status: In progress
The Difference Between California and New York
Chapter 5
My eyes twitched nervously back and forth between the dough and the time, my heart beating in sync with each tick of the clock. It was nearing three, and I couldn’t describe nor control what my emotions were doing in my stomach. I didn’t like blind dates, which this essentially was in my mind. I never paid much attention to who I was serving, and while I may have seen this man before, I in no sense of the word knew him. I couldn’t imagine he knew me that well either. Then again, I don’t know how long he’s been watching me.
The bakery wasn’t bustling with activity, but enough that I didn’t have a moment of free time. Cakes were coming and going faster than we could produce them. We were a small shop, but well known, which isn’t the best of combinations when you’re short staffed like we normally were. Nonetheless, everyone normally worked as much as they could, skipping breaks and lunches, or eating here and there and working in between. I wanted to skip out on my lunch today, but I didn’t want to be rude to the man, regardless of what he was here for. It wasn’t in me to be mean to anyone, at least not without a purpose. I knew the feeling of being on the receiving end of criticism and hate, and I didn’t want to be the reason for anyone else to be in that position. It was just something I grew up with.
I felt like my eyes were developing a muscle spasm from how much I continually looked from the time to my hands and the dough beneath. I was nervous, yes, but I knew I hadn’t a reason to be. He was just a man that was going to come into the bakery and tell me that he admired me. It was nothing, it was minuscule, it wasn’t worth fretting over, but I did.
The dough beneath my fingertips was so kneaded that it could have started to knead itself. I felt my fingers shaking, and I knew that I was now officially working myself up way too much. I let a relief of air flow from my mouth; air that I hadn’t realized I had been holding until it flew out. I stepped away from the counter and over to the sink to wash my hands of the flour that still remained. I knew eyes were on me; the eyes of everyone who was working around me. Sandra and Molly had managed to inform every other staff member who came in of my exciting visitor today, so everyone could so clearly see that I was freaking out. And I was embarrassed. I had always presented a picture of myself to them as a person who was calm and in control at all times. But when it came to me and romance, nothing within my body was ever in control.
“Annabel,” a voice from behind me said. I looked over my shoulder to see a dirty, icing covered hand laying lightly on me. I traced the fingers and hand up the arm to the head, to see that it was Michael, an older gentleman who was at least twice my age if not more. I had always thought he had gentle green eyes, and I needed gentle right now more than anything else.
“Yes?” I turned the water off and began to dry my hands on the towel nearby. He retracted his hand and I stood to face him more directly.
“Sandra wants to talk to you; she’s up by the display case.” For what felt like the millionth time in a minute, my eyes found the clock. It was almost three, but not quite yet. There was still a reasonable amount of time left in between. I looked back to Michael with a smile, only because he knew why Sandra wanted to see me.
“Alright, thanks.” I scurried away from his sight and out towards where I saw Sandra standing next to the display case sizing up the donuts. I hoped that as I approached her a male that I did not know wouldn’t simply come into view when I least expected it catching me in the act of saying or doing something ridiculous, which seemed so perfectly ideal at the moment.
Her eyes skipped over the multiple desserts in the display case before skipping to mine once I was closer. A gentle smile enveloped her lips, and she looked so sweet and gentle. But then I remember that she was the reason that I was in such a glass case of emotion and she gradually appeared less sweet and more salty.
“It’s almost three!” she said with a sickening amount of enjoyment and excitement. I half-heartedly smiled. I wasn’t necessarily dreading meeting this man, I was more anxious for it. If he liked me from afar, I didn’t want him to see me up close and realize that he was just being delusional.
“I know. I’ve been checking the clock at every tick and tock I hear.” I looked beyond her and out to the customer area. There were a few little tables and chairs available to the public to sit and eat, and I scanned the room briskly for anyone who looked as if they might be waiting for someone. “Is he here yet?”
“Are you excited?” I brought my eyes back to the foreground.
“That’s one of my emotions I suppose.” She eyed me skeptically, but still kept her grin on her face. I wished I could mirror her excitement, but I just couldn’t let my anxiousness go.
“What are your other emotions?” I didn’t really know how to answer that. A part of me was excited yes, but every other molecule in my body was screaming and shaking with nervousness. And I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew exactly why I was so nervous. I wanted this guy to like me, I wanted to like him. But as it always seems to happen with people who come into my life and get close to me; he’ll get tired of me sooner or later, and then I’ll just be left there even more alone and sad then when he first found me.
“Just a little nervous I guess.” Sandra, completely oblivious to my real uncertainly and discomfort with the situation, threw her award winning smile my way and placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Oh sweetie, it’ll be alright. When me and Mol talked to him last night, he seemed like a real angel. I’m sure you two will hit it off.” She put her hand down.. “And I really hope you do. You look like you need some love in your life.”
I could have replied to her with thousands of stories and phrases, but none of them were relevant enough to tell someone who, while I liked, was still just a coworker. So, I simply smiled with my eyes and remained quiet.
“Honey, go sit over there. That way you’ll be the first person he sees when he walks in.” She pointed to the table that was just off center of the middle of the room. It looked the same as every other table and chairs in the bakery, but at the moment it looked like it was covered in spikes and dripping with arsenic.
I looked back to Sandra, who was still grinning her face off, and then I gave a glance back towards Molly and the other workers. They all seemed to be keeping an eye on me as they did their work, and I suddenly felt like I was on a soap opera, and I was the character that was about to enter into this beautiful love affair only to be killed in the end or something along those lines. But, like I said, I watch a lot of late night TV.
I tore my eyes from the others, and I began towards the table. Butterflies were moving at the speed of light and the knots forming in my stomach kept trying to slow them down, but they kept breaking free. I slid out the chair and slowly sat myself down, staring intently at the front door as I did so. I watch New York’s people walk the streets in front of my little shop every day, but never have they all looked so alien. Everything felt so out of place, and I felt so out of control and reckless; and if there is one thing I’m not, it’s reckless.
It was three in the afternoon, and I now knew how Cinderella felt when the clock struck midnight. I watched frantically at the people who passed by and those who entered, surveying their faces and movements, trying to dissect whether or not they could be the man I was waiting for. But every person that came in or walked by acted the same towards me; disinterested. A part of me began to wonder if this had all been a part of some elaborate prank. I sat at the table with my legs crossed, my head resting on my hands. My eyes followed each footstep every single person took, and I traced my way up their legs to their faces, hoping to catch their eyes and see a spark ignite between us. But I never caught anyone’s eye because no one ever looked at me.
I sat there uncomfortably for five minutes before I started wanting to give up. I wanted to strangle Sandra and Molly, and even more so than them I wanted to strangle myself for going along with this stupid plan. I wanted to get up and go back into the back of the bakery and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the day to keep my embarrassment away. But I stopped myself every time I almost did, because I knew that as soon as I got up, this secret admirer of mine would waltz into the bakery and begin his romantic search for me. I didn’t know if I wanted to stay and watch that or not.
I lay my head down onto the table, the cool metal sizzling against my hot cheeks. I didn’t know if I felt relieved or let down, or a strange cocktail of both. I could still hear the buzz of people around me; the chimes of the little bell we have near the cash register that is rung whenever a cake is ready, the timers of the oven going off and on and above all else, the people talking and chattering away only reminding me that I was still in real life and I hadn’t drifted off into some fantasy world.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I assumed it was Sandra attempting to comfort me, although I didn’t know if I needed to be consoled, I hadn’t really decided if I was sad yet. I lifted my head up and began talking as I turned to look at the body attached to the hand.
“Sandra, I knew this was going to be a bad—” I stopped myself short when I realized I wasn’t talking to Sandra.
I guessed it was him, the guy I had been waiting for, because he looked at me with a smile that hinted at something more than just a would-you-bake-me-a-cake kind of smile. I couldn’t see my face, and I was happy I couldn’t. I probably looked like an idiot; I hadn’t shut my mouth yet and sat there gaping at this man, just staring, partly because I couldn’t believe he showed up, and partly because he was still touching me.
“A bad what?” There was definite play in his voice, and I blushed so much that I forgot to breathe. I said the first thing that came to my mind that sounded like a normal human answer, and not just the aimless jumble of words running through my head.
“Uh, a bad day to go swimming.” His hand removed itself from my shoulder, and was replaced back into his pocket. He cocked an eyebrow at me and tilted his head as a smile slithered onto his lips, offering sarcasm into his voice before even speaking.
“Swimming huh? In January?” I nodded quickly, trying to make my explanation seem as real and reasonable as possible, even though I hated everything about this situation. I hated being caught in something I shouldn’t have been, and I hated sounding illogical, which seemed to be all that spilled from my mouth recently.
“Uh yes, that’s why it’s a bad day for it.” He giggled slightly, a sort of boyish laugh that echoed through my ears and rang like church bells, calming me in a way that I didn’t quite understand. I took a moment to take in his features; he had dirty blonde hair, and a lot of scruff around where a beard might grow in eventually. He had very thin lips that really worked to compliment the rest of his face, and they literally looked like a small snake when he began to smile. But his eyes were the prize; they weren’t blue or gray or even green, they were a mixture of all three colors, swirling around and waltzing with each other, and I had never seen anything like it.
“You’re lucky you're cute. If not, I’d think you're crazy.” I smiled slightly, taking the compliment but stupidly said the first thing that came to mind.
“It’s possible to be cute and crazy.” He cocked an eyebrow at me, interested.
“Care to prove that statement?” I rolled my eyes slightly, not necessarily at him, but at the statement in its entirety.
“Stick around me long enough, you’ll see for yourself.” He laughed a sort of hearty laugh that was deep but also very boyish. I hadn’t really meant for it to be funny, rather than brutally true, but if my sarcasm tickles his funny bone, I’m not about to argue with that smile.
“Well, maybe I’ll just have to take you up on that.” Something different flickered in his eyes, and I became suddenly and very acutely aware that he was flirting with me. I began to panic; I didn’t know how to flirt, and I didn’t want to mess things up this quickly. I wanted to just keep things simple and easy, a route I know all too well. In that attempt, I extended my hand out to his, at to which our skin touched each other’s for the first time, and I was extremely aware of the feeling of his nails grazing against my fingers.
“I’m Annabel.”
“Spencer.”
The bakery wasn’t bustling with activity, but enough that I didn’t have a moment of free time. Cakes were coming and going faster than we could produce them. We were a small shop, but well known, which isn’t the best of combinations when you’re short staffed like we normally were. Nonetheless, everyone normally worked as much as they could, skipping breaks and lunches, or eating here and there and working in between. I wanted to skip out on my lunch today, but I didn’t want to be rude to the man, regardless of what he was here for. It wasn’t in me to be mean to anyone, at least not without a purpose. I knew the feeling of being on the receiving end of criticism and hate, and I didn’t want to be the reason for anyone else to be in that position. It was just something I grew up with.
I felt like my eyes were developing a muscle spasm from how much I continually looked from the time to my hands and the dough beneath. I was nervous, yes, but I knew I hadn’t a reason to be. He was just a man that was going to come into the bakery and tell me that he admired me. It was nothing, it was minuscule, it wasn’t worth fretting over, but I did.
The dough beneath my fingertips was so kneaded that it could have started to knead itself. I felt my fingers shaking, and I knew that I was now officially working myself up way too much. I let a relief of air flow from my mouth; air that I hadn’t realized I had been holding until it flew out. I stepped away from the counter and over to the sink to wash my hands of the flour that still remained. I knew eyes were on me; the eyes of everyone who was working around me. Sandra and Molly had managed to inform every other staff member who came in of my exciting visitor today, so everyone could so clearly see that I was freaking out. And I was embarrassed. I had always presented a picture of myself to them as a person who was calm and in control at all times. But when it came to me and romance, nothing within my body was ever in control.
“Annabel,” a voice from behind me said. I looked over my shoulder to see a dirty, icing covered hand laying lightly on me. I traced the fingers and hand up the arm to the head, to see that it was Michael, an older gentleman who was at least twice my age if not more. I had always thought he had gentle green eyes, and I needed gentle right now more than anything else.
“Yes?” I turned the water off and began to dry my hands on the towel nearby. He retracted his hand and I stood to face him more directly.
“Sandra wants to talk to you; she’s up by the display case.” For what felt like the millionth time in a minute, my eyes found the clock. It was almost three, but not quite yet. There was still a reasonable amount of time left in between. I looked back to Michael with a smile, only because he knew why Sandra wanted to see me.
“Alright, thanks.” I scurried away from his sight and out towards where I saw Sandra standing next to the display case sizing up the donuts. I hoped that as I approached her a male that I did not know wouldn’t simply come into view when I least expected it catching me in the act of saying or doing something ridiculous, which seemed so perfectly ideal at the moment.
Her eyes skipped over the multiple desserts in the display case before skipping to mine once I was closer. A gentle smile enveloped her lips, and she looked so sweet and gentle. But then I remember that she was the reason that I was in such a glass case of emotion and she gradually appeared less sweet and more salty.
“It’s almost three!” she said with a sickening amount of enjoyment and excitement. I half-heartedly smiled. I wasn’t necessarily dreading meeting this man, I was more anxious for it. If he liked me from afar, I didn’t want him to see me up close and realize that he was just being delusional.
“I know. I’ve been checking the clock at every tick and tock I hear.” I looked beyond her and out to the customer area. There were a few little tables and chairs available to the public to sit and eat, and I scanned the room briskly for anyone who looked as if they might be waiting for someone. “Is he here yet?”
“Are you excited?” I brought my eyes back to the foreground.
“That’s one of my emotions I suppose.” She eyed me skeptically, but still kept her grin on her face. I wished I could mirror her excitement, but I just couldn’t let my anxiousness go.
“What are your other emotions?” I didn’t really know how to answer that. A part of me was excited yes, but every other molecule in my body was screaming and shaking with nervousness. And I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew exactly why I was so nervous. I wanted this guy to like me, I wanted to like him. But as it always seems to happen with people who come into my life and get close to me; he’ll get tired of me sooner or later, and then I’ll just be left there even more alone and sad then when he first found me.
“Just a little nervous I guess.” Sandra, completely oblivious to my real uncertainly and discomfort with the situation, threw her award winning smile my way and placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Oh sweetie, it’ll be alright. When me and Mol talked to him last night, he seemed like a real angel. I’m sure you two will hit it off.” She put her hand down.. “And I really hope you do. You look like you need some love in your life.”
I could have replied to her with thousands of stories and phrases, but none of them were relevant enough to tell someone who, while I liked, was still just a coworker. So, I simply smiled with my eyes and remained quiet.
“Honey, go sit over there. That way you’ll be the first person he sees when he walks in.” She pointed to the table that was just off center of the middle of the room. It looked the same as every other table and chairs in the bakery, but at the moment it looked like it was covered in spikes and dripping with arsenic.
I looked back to Sandra, who was still grinning her face off, and then I gave a glance back towards Molly and the other workers. They all seemed to be keeping an eye on me as they did their work, and I suddenly felt like I was on a soap opera, and I was the character that was about to enter into this beautiful love affair only to be killed in the end or something along those lines. But, like I said, I watch a lot of late night TV.
I tore my eyes from the others, and I began towards the table. Butterflies were moving at the speed of light and the knots forming in my stomach kept trying to slow them down, but they kept breaking free. I slid out the chair and slowly sat myself down, staring intently at the front door as I did so. I watch New York’s people walk the streets in front of my little shop every day, but never have they all looked so alien. Everything felt so out of place, and I felt so out of control and reckless; and if there is one thing I’m not, it’s reckless.
It was three in the afternoon, and I now knew how Cinderella felt when the clock struck midnight. I watched frantically at the people who passed by and those who entered, surveying their faces and movements, trying to dissect whether or not they could be the man I was waiting for. But every person that came in or walked by acted the same towards me; disinterested. A part of me began to wonder if this had all been a part of some elaborate prank. I sat at the table with my legs crossed, my head resting on my hands. My eyes followed each footstep every single person took, and I traced my way up their legs to their faces, hoping to catch their eyes and see a spark ignite between us. But I never caught anyone’s eye because no one ever looked at me.
I sat there uncomfortably for five minutes before I started wanting to give up. I wanted to strangle Sandra and Molly, and even more so than them I wanted to strangle myself for going along with this stupid plan. I wanted to get up and go back into the back of the bakery and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the day to keep my embarrassment away. But I stopped myself every time I almost did, because I knew that as soon as I got up, this secret admirer of mine would waltz into the bakery and begin his romantic search for me. I didn’t know if I wanted to stay and watch that or not.
I lay my head down onto the table, the cool metal sizzling against my hot cheeks. I didn’t know if I felt relieved or let down, or a strange cocktail of both. I could still hear the buzz of people around me; the chimes of the little bell we have near the cash register that is rung whenever a cake is ready, the timers of the oven going off and on and above all else, the people talking and chattering away only reminding me that I was still in real life and I hadn’t drifted off into some fantasy world.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I assumed it was Sandra attempting to comfort me, although I didn’t know if I needed to be consoled, I hadn’t really decided if I was sad yet. I lifted my head up and began talking as I turned to look at the body attached to the hand.
“Sandra, I knew this was going to be a bad—” I stopped myself short when I realized I wasn’t talking to Sandra.
I guessed it was him, the guy I had been waiting for, because he looked at me with a smile that hinted at something more than just a would-you-bake-me-a-cake kind of smile. I couldn’t see my face, and I was happy I couldn’t. I probably looked like an idiot; I hadn’t shut my mouth yet and sat there gaping at this man, just staring, partly because I couldn’t believe he showed up, and partly because he was still touching me.
“A bad what?” There was definite play in his voice, and I blushed so much that I forgot to breathe. I said the first thing that came to my mind that sounded like a normal human answer, and not just the aimless jumble of words running through my head.
“Uh, a bad day to go swimming.” His hand removed itself from my shoulder, and was replaced back into his pocket. He cocked an eyebrow at me and tilted his head as a smile slithered onto his lips, offering sarcasm into his voice before even speaking.
“Swimming huh? In January?” I nodded quickly, trying to make my explanation seem as real and reasonable as possible, even though I hated everything about this situation. I hated being caught in something I shouldn’t have been, and I hated sounding illogical, which seemed to be all that spilled from my mouth recently.
“Uh yes, that’s why it’s a bad day for it.” He giggled slightly, a sort of boyish laugh that echoed through my ears and rang like church bells, calming me in a way that I didn’t quite understand. I took a moment to take in his features; he had dirty blonde hair, and a lot of scruff around where a beard might grow in eventually. He had very thin lips that really worked to compliment the rest of his face, and they literally looked like a small snake when he began to smile. But his eyes were the prize; they weren’t blue or gray or even green, they were a mixture of all three colors, swirling around and waltzing with each other, and I had never seen anything like it.
“You’re lucky you're cute. If not, I’d think you're crazy.” I smiled slightly, taking the compliment but stupidly said the first thing that came to mind.
“It’s possible to be cute and crazy.” He cocked an eyebrow at me, interested.
“Care to prove that statement?” I rolled my eyes slightly, not necessarily at him, but at the statement in its entirety.
“Stick around me long enough, you’ll see for yourself.” He laughed a sort of hearty laugh that was deep but also very boyish. I hadn’t really meant for it to be funny, rather than brutally true, but if my sarcasm tickles his funny bone, I’m not about to argue with that smile.
“Well, maybe I’ll just have to take you up on that.” Something different flickered in his eyes, and I became suddenly and very acutely aware that he was flirting with me. I began to panic; I didn’t know how to flirt, and I didn’t want to mess things up this quickly. I wanted to just keep things simple and easy, a route I know all too well. In that attempt, I extended my hand out to his, at to which our skin touched each other’s for the first time, and I was extremely aware of the feeling of his nails grazing against my fingers.
“I’m Annabel.”
“Spencer.”