Dream Lover (2 page)

“Well, it took you long enough.”

He shook his head. “What are you doing here Peaches?” She loved eating peaches and ate them almost every day. John once told her, “If you keep eating peaches so much you're going to turn into one.” Apparently she did, more or less, since she'd inherited the nickname from him.

Continuing to bounce from one booted foot to the other she looked up at him. “I knew you’d come here.”

He gave a skeptical look and asked, “How did you know that I wouldn’t have gone to one of the other restaurants?”

She rolled her eyes. “You and I both know that this is the place you come to when you’re upset.”

Her eyes widened as she looked at him. “You’re not cold?”

He’d forgotten his jacket. “I guess I didn’t think about it,” he answered shrugging.

She unfolded her arms and began tugging his arm.

“Come on let’s go in.”

He took out his keys and unlocked the door. As they entered, he flicked on the switch.

Everything was in its place. She walked behind the bar. She grabbed two small glasses and a bottle of liquor then poured each of them a drink. She placed one in front of him.

“Drink,” she demanded.

They both tossed the shot back at the same time.

“How did she look?” he asked, feeling the liquid burn his throat, then warm his chest.

“Skinny,” she answered not meaning it in a good way. She poured them another shot.

They both drank again, slamming the glasses on the bar.

“What about him?”

She stopped pouring for a second gave him a sly smile and continued to pour as she said, “Not
nearly
as devastatingly handsome as you.”

“You’re too kind.”

Another shot.

“Ok,” she said, “What are you going to cook for me?”

He laughed. She came from around the bar and grabbed his hand dragging him to the kitchen. “Come on! I know you were going to cook anyway, so I figured I’d reap the benefits.”

“How about a salad?”

She stopped and looked at him horrified. “It’s three in the morning! Now’s not the time to be healthy. Give me something deep-fried. Make me some of that shrimp! The tequila lime shrimp!”

He looked at her and laughed. “Why would you even ask me what I was going to cook for you if you were going to tell me anyway?”

She looked over her shoulder flashing him a smile. “I was just giving you a chance to guess correctly.”

He went to the fridge to get the food. She went and grabbed the tequila they'd been drinking earlier, then stopped in front of the stereo system.

He looked up. “What are you doing Liz?”

“I brought my iPod.”

“I don’t want to hear that song.”

“You need to,” she simply replied.

Before he could stop her, it was playing and she was dancing through the restaurant. Cee-Lo Green’s “Forget You” was blasting through the restaurant. Whenever he started thinking about 'her', and Liz always had an uncanny knack for knowing when, she’d play the song. She poured him another shot. “Here, drink this then start cooking.”

He took the shot. She continued dancing around. He smiled, thankful for such a great friend.

“I lucked out to have a best friend who is such a great cook!” Liz said popping the last fry in her mouth.

“You’d probably never eat if it weren’t for me. You’re always hidden away in your studio. What did you do before me?”

She looked up and thought for a moment, then laughed. “I have no idea! Quick take out.”

He nodded. “I remember.”

They both thought back to how they’d met close to five years ago...

John had just gotten the keys to his new apartment. He was leaving when he’d seen a woman across the street carrying way too much stuff. Even with being wretchedly heartbroken, he still could not stop himself from being gentlemanly. Just as she was about to drop her easel, he rushed across the street.

“Here let me help you with that.”

“Thank you so much! You’re the first person to offer any help since I’ve been walking with this stuff.”

“How long have you been walking?”

“Too long.”

“Would you like some help carrying this stuff?”

She studied him for a moment then nodded.

“Sure, thanks.”

They headed for the elevator in the lobby. Once they were in, she shifted her supplies around and stuck out her hand.

“I’m Elizabeth, but my friends call me Liz.”

“John,” he replied shaking her hand. He noticed it was slightly rough, but still very delicate at the same time.

She looked at him, and began to study him again. She saw the sadness in his eyes; but she refrained from asking what was wrong. She pushed a strand of her wild hair away from her face. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

He held up his keys. “Just got them. I’ll probably be moving in this weekend across the street.”
They stepped off the elevator and walked down the corridor to her door. “This is me,” she said smiling as she looked up at him, “I can get it all inside, just sit it down. I’ve got to find my keys in my bag.”

He sat the easel down. “No problem.”

“Hey thanks again. Hope you like it here.”

“Thanks,” he said nodding,
and then he turned and began to walk away.

“Hey John!”

He turned back and saw her kind of skipping towards him. “Yeah?”

“Well, since you helped me, I’d like to offer to help you move in your apartment.”

He stared at her for a moment, surprised by her offer.

“That’s not necessary.”

“I know,” she replied shrugging. “Let's just call it returning the favor or something.”

He shrugged. “Sure, I suppose I could use an extra hand.”

She smiled. “Great, I’ll see you this weekend.” She turned to walk away, and then looked over her shoulder and said, “I believe you and I will become great friends John!” And then she was off to her apartment.

She hadn’t been flirting or anything, she was genuinely being nice. And she’d kept her word. Saturday morning as he drove up to his apartment in his rented U-Haul, she was out front waiting, coffee in hand, sunglasses on, and overalls splattered with old paint. He couldn't help notice how she managed to look beautiful even in paint splattered overalls and her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.

He’d hired movers to bring in the furniture earlier in the week. His younger sister had come along to help. She and Liz got along well, chatting away during the entire move. John had hardly gotten a word in. When his sister got ready to leave, Liz noticed how she hugged him tightly and said, “You’ll be fine.”

Finally alone, they stood at the door.

“Would you like help putting your stuff away?”

“Maybe a few things. I know it’s getting late, I don’t want to keep you forever.”

She waved his comment off. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

“No paintings?” he said, with a smile on his face.

She looked up. “I’m having some sort of artist's block.”

“Ah.”

She looked around. “Where do you want to start?”

For the first time, she could have sworn she saw a real smile. “The kitchen.”

As they were unwrapping items, she began the conversation. “What do you do?”

“I’m a chef.”

“That explains why you wanted to start in the kitchen,” she said grinning at him.

“Partly.”

“Where do you work?”

“Just some restaurant. But I’m looking to open my own one day soon.”

“Really?” she asked, as her eyes danced brightly. He stared at her for a moment. She seemed genuinely interested.

“You don’t think it’s silly?”

She turned her head to the side and asked, “Why would I? I think it’s great to have ambitions.”

“What are you ambitions Liz?”

“Same as any 'struggling artist' I suppose,” she replied lightly shrugging her shoulders, as she carefully unwrapped a dish, “to have my artwork known.”

He was silent for a long moment.

“Well,” she said trying to keep things from getting awkward, “I think I should taste something, to make sure I’ll want to come to your restaurant, once you open it.”

He grinned at her. “That’s why we’re unpacking the kitchen first.”

“Really?” she asked looking surprised and excited.

He shrugged as he unwrapped a set of plates. “I figured it was the least I could do since you were here all day helping me.”

He made a great meal and they kept up great conversation during the whole dinner. Afterward, she asked the question that she’d been trying to refrain from asking.

“I don’t mean to pry, but I heard your sister say something like you’ll be fine right before she left. And I noticed you seemed kind of sad. If you want to say, ‘it’s none of your business Liz’ go ahead. Even though we just met, I’m asking you as a friend, what happened to you?”

He didn’t say anything for a long time. He was surprised that she could read him so well; then again, maybe it was just written all over his face. Her question could have normally been considered out of line, but for some reason he felt comfortable enough to talk to her about it. Finally, he reached for his wallet. He opened it. Inside was a picture of him and Susan.

“Girlfriend?”

“Ex.”

“Oh, well, what happened?”

“She left me on our wedding day.”

Liz sat stunned. “John I’m so-”

He raised his hand and shook his head. “Please don’t say it. I’m tired of people saying they’re sorry for me.”

She looked down, and quietly replied, “I’m sure you are.”

“If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to call it a night.”

She got up. “Of course. Thanks for the meal.”

“Thanks for the help.”

“Hey,” she said turning back. “I know you’re probably sick of all those other people talking to you, being all pitiful. If you just need someone new to talk to, you know where to find me.”

He smiled. “Thanks.”

Not long after she left, he noticed something out his window.
At the apartment across the street there she was. They were window neighbors.

They ran into each other a few times outside and at the market. She was usually buying something quick to eat.

On one of his off days, he’d seen her working on a painting. Every time he went by the window, she was in the same spot, looking as though she had not moved. Hours later he was pushing the buzzer to her apartment.

“Who is it?”

“Have you eaten today?”

There was a long pause.

“John?”

“Yeah.”

More silence. “No not really.”

“Buzz me in.”

When he got upstairs, she opened the door for him. He held up a bag.

She put her hand on her hip. “How did you know?”

“May I come in?”

“Of course,” she said moving out of the way to let him in. He walked toward the window and she followed. He pointed to his own apartment across the street and said, “I can see you. You haven’t moved for hours.”

She blushed. “I get so caught up in painting sometimes I forget to do anything else.” She peeked into the bag and sniffed. Then she looked up at him and smiled.

“What did you cook?”

From that day on they’d been great friends. It had never grown into anything more, and they both felt good about their friendship...

He stared at his friend as she hopped off of the bar stool and grabbed her coat.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”

She held out her hand. He took it and they headed out the door. He looked around the restaurant then turned out the light and locked the door. He'd be back in a few hours. It was Saturday, which meant breakfast. They only offered a breakfast menu on the weekends.

They walked slowly back to their apartment in silence, still hand and hand.

"How is your sculpture going?"

"You don't have to do that you know."

"Do what?"

"Try to ask about me so you don't have to think about the other stuff."

He threw his arm around her neck. "Lizzie, you know I'm really interested in your masterpieces."

She rolled her eyes and laughed. "I wouldn't go
that
far Johnny."

"Well I would. You have already sold quite a few pieces."

"Yeah, but I've never had my own show. I have more than enough pieces for an entire show but no gallery has offered me an entire show to myself."