Young Adult / Part 3 - Jigsaw Puzzle
Michael came over to my house at six in the morning. My sisters are still in bed and will probably remain there for hours because they sleep more than our cat does. My parents already know that Michael’s visiting and have promised to keep out of the way. Dad has only just gotten in from work at the hospital and my mom has left for her office downtown where she is known as the Queen of the File Cabinet.
Sasha, Michael’s dog, stayed outside with the biggest doggy grin on her face. I smiled when he handed me the pad of paper as he walked onto the porch and read ‘she doesn’t travel much.’ It would be hard to not fall in love with this pooch who was a pro at catch. She let me scratch her behind the ears and drooled whenever I found just the right spot.
Michael, for the first time I’d seen, was smiling as he watched me rubbing Sasha’s belly. It made me think of those annoying Orbit gum commercials where the smiles are too perfect, but God could he pull it off. I smiled back and I thought I could see something close to happiness glinting in the corners of his eyes.
When we went into the house we both headed straight for the kitchen. Although, in Michael’s defense, it was the first time he’d ever been to my house so he was just following me. Michael scribbled on his pad before pushing it across the counter to me.
‘Pancakes.’
In silence Michael stirred the mix and I cut up fruit. The strawberries stained my fingers like blood. I stopped long enough to scrape out strawberry guts from under my fingernails and then started cutting chunks of bananas.
When I looked up again Michael was staring at me with a smile on his face. I shrugged at him as if to say ‘what?’ He shook his head slowly, meaning ‘nothing.’ I shook my head at him to let him know he was crazy, but I was smiling.
It wasn’t long before we had made some delicious fruit pancakes. When I went to put up the pancake mix a bag of flour fell on me and caked me in snowy powder. I choked and coughed up a gob of flour as he fell to his knees on the tiled floor behind me. Michael’s laughter sounded like bells.
The rest of the day we locked ourselves up in my room. The first thing that he noticed was the drawing I’d pinned up above my bed. His fingers traced the outline of the dragonfly’s wings. I turned on my TV and flopped back on my bed. Michael’s fingers stopped at the points where he had starting tracing – a fleshy head-on collision. He turned his attention to me on the bed.
I watched his eyes. They seemed to do all of his talking for him. For some reason his gaze seemed guarded. ‘Please ignore this boy behind the curtain.’ I hadn’t met the Wicked Witch of the Vodka Bottle, but I did wonder what spell she had put on this beautiful boy. I tilted my head to the side with my eyebrows furrowed – my silent way of asking what was wrong.
He shook his head and laid down beside me, setting the pad and pen between us on the bed. I picked them up and wrote: ‘Do you like nature?’
‘Love it.’
‘Let’s go.’
We ran out of the house and put Sasha on her magenta leash before hurrying down the sidewalk. I looked over to see his face. His eyes were sparkling, a light peeking between the curtains. I offered him my hand and he took it. Sasha dragged us down the sidewalk and we followed. She knew better than we did where the most amazing things were.
I had a friend that once said when you found the person you’re supposed to be with and you held hands with them for the first time that they would fit perfectly. Like pieces to a jigsaw puzzle. I don’t know if the fit of Michael’s hand was perfect, but it felt very comfortable.
Sasha led us into the park and we willingly trotted after her. When we entered the park and passed the swing sets Michael’s hand slipped out of mine. I wanted to say something but kept my mouth shut. When he turned around the curtain was closed again.
I cannot wait to dump some water on that Wicked Witch.
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I havent read the two previous parts, so I was really lost. Overall though I liked this and your writing style. This just came off really romantic and when they were making the pancakes I could imagine. Only advice for that scene is for you to describe the buttery smell of the pancakes or something like that. Not wanting to waste your creds, great story and you grabbed somebody who would read future chapters.
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