Until I Saw Your Smile (13 page)

He tiptoed out and passed a spotless dry erase board attached to her refrigerator.

He picked up a black marker.
What do I write? “Had to run away!” is the truth. She's not a horrible person. She might actually be fun if she didn't drink so much and say so many inflammatory things about my hometown, a place I hope she's only visiting. Should I leave my number?

Matthew wrote, “Had a great time, sorry, had to run” and his cell phone number.

He added a smiley face for good measure.

He locked the door behind him and walked out onto Metropolitan, turning south on Driggs past Angela's place.
That's where I'll be working late the next three nights. It's where I belong after these last few weeks. Somewhere safe. Somewhere peaceful. Angela has always been good company.

Once inside his own apartment, he settled into his easy chair and watched SportsCenter.

He didn't see Allison climbing the glass.

The phone rang. “Hello?”

“Where
are
you, Boo?” Allison cried.

The date that never ends.
“I'm at home, Allison. Are you okay?” “Why?” she whined.

“Why am I asking or why am I at home?” Matthew asked.

“Why aren't you
here?
” Allison moaned.

Because you're a crazy drunk woman.
“You needed your rest.”

“Please come back, Boo,” Allison said with a burp. “I don't feel so good. The bed is tilting. I've already puked twice on my bedspread. It's
ruined.
”

I feel your pain, but only a little. You're the alcoholic who bought an impractical, bright white bedspread.
“Allison, I'm really tired, too. Just . . . go sleep on your couch.”
Where you might make a matching stain.

“
You
let me drink all that beer, so it's
your
fault I'm sick,” Allison said. “You should have
stopped
me.”

“I hardly know you, Allison,” Matthew said. “And you're a grown woman who should know when she's had enough to drink.”

“I know, I know,” Allison said, and she began to cry.

For five minutes.

“I'm so sorry, Boo,” she cried. “I didn't mean to yell at you. Do you forgive me?”

Forgiveness is the first step to reconciliation. I do not wish to reconcile with this woman.
“Get some rest, Allison.”

“I just expected you to be beside me when I woke up,” Allison whispered.

And puked the rest of your chicken
picatta
and ten Heinekens on me.
“Please get some rest, Allison. You'll feel better in the morning.”

“Did you like my drapes?” Allison asked brightly.

She's deaf when she's drunk, too.
“Yeah. They're nice. So . . . white.”
Why am I still talking to her?

“I
love
the color white,” Allison said.

“Is your place as big as mine?” Allison said.

“Get some rest, Allison,” Matthew said.

“Where do you live?” Allison asked.

Do not
ever
tell this woman where you live!
“Oh, wow, my cell's battery is dying. I always forget to charge it.”

“Plug it in, then,” Allison said. “Oh, Boo, the next time you come over, you have to stay, and you won't need a toothbrush. I have plenty of those in every color of the rainbow. Only a few of them have ever been used. Oh, do you like meatloaf? I make the
best
meatloaf.”

“Allison, I gotta go. Good night.”

“What size do you wear?” Allison asked.

“I have a closet full of men's clothes from some of my exes who never came back to get them for some reason,” Allison said.

“Oh, I have to write down our date in my diary,” Allison said. “Did you see my diaries on the shelves?”

Those weren't photo albums. They were diaries. There must have been four or five
hundred
of them.
“Allison, it's very late, and I'm very tired.”

“Oh, is my boo tired?” Allison cooed. “I better let my boo go then. Sweet dreams with me on top.”

Matthew suddenly had a vision of Allison dry heaving on top of him. He winced. “Bye, Allison.” He ended the call.

A minute later, his phone buzzed.

He let it go to voice mail.

He had to shut off his phone five messages later.

In the morning after a few hours of sleep, he listened to Allison's messages as he shaved:

“Why won't you answer? Oh. You're probably dreaming sweet dreams of me on top of you. I need you, Boo. Call me anytime you want. You are my clouds on a sunny day. You are the wings beneath my wind. Did I get that right? Happy Valentine's Day!”

He deleted the message and listened to the next:

“I'm making a heart-shaped meatloaf tonight, Boo. And afterward, we can go to Ikea, okay? It'll be a
fun
Valentine's date. I
love
Ikea. It is such a
fun
place to shop. Then we can go to my place and read
all
my diaries. I want you to get to know me
so
much! I know you'll like what you read. I sometimes even draw pictures. I am the best doodler. You'll see! See you soon!”

Ikea. A fun date. Wow.
He deleted the message and listened to the next:

“I wrote a
lot
in my diary just now about you, Boo. Want to read what I wrote? You'll have to come over to do that, silly. Call me soon, okay, or I might write bad things about you in my diary tonight. I'm just kidding. I know I won't be able to concentrate at work today because I can't get you out of my head! You can send the flowers and candy to the Bloomingdale's on Broadway. Isn't it amazing that I know you're sending me flowers later today? Bye!”

He deleted the next
fifteen
messages without listening to more than a few words of each, with “Boo” the most popular greeting.

His phone buzzed again.

Chapter 11

M
atthew's phone buzzed all day Thursday and continued to buzz on Valentine's Day as he stood rubbing his arms and stamping his feet outside Angela's place a little before six
AM
.

Angela didn't say a word as she undid the many locks and opened the door, ushering him to the middle booth, his eggs, bacon, and sausage already steaming on a large china plate, a large cup of coffee and a small plate of assorted of pastries completing the feast.

Matthew didn't say a word as he sat.

His phone buzzed again.

Matthew turned it off and spun it on the table.

He nodded once to Angela, and he dug in.

Angela slid into the booth beside him. “The Rangers are decent this year, but whenever they play the Bruins, they fall apart.”

Matthew grunted.

Angela nudged his knee with hers. “How bad was it?”

Matthew swallowed. “The eggs are good. Nice and cheesy. Just the right touch of pepper, too.”

“I know,” she said. “I made them.” She put her elbows up on her half of the table. “Tell me how bad it was. I want to gloat.”

Matthew took a long swig of coffee and swallowed. “Angela, I can never turn on my phone again. I may have to change my number. I will most likely have to go around Williamsburg in disguise.” He stared out the window.

“Happy Valentine's Day,” Angela said. “Did you bring me flowers, Matthew?”

“No, but Allison is expecting flowers and candy today.”

Angela rested her head on her hands. “So soon? I
never
would have guessed she'd be a stalker.” She batted her eyes. “You never guessed it either, did you?”

Matthew sighed. “How often did Allison come here?”

“Oh, half a dozen times. She always got two mugs, and I always cleared away a full mug after she left crying.” Angela smiled. “From the way you're watching that window, you're expecting her to come walking through that door any second.”

“I am.”

“You're not afraid of
that
skinny thing, are you?” Angela asked.

Matthew wiped his lips and picked up a pastry. “Don't let her size fool you. She's insane, and even skinny insane people can do a lot of damage.”

Angela smiled.

Matthew sighed. “I know why you're smiling.”

“No, you don't.”

“You're smiling because you were right, and I was wrong.” He sighed. “And now I have to clean this place for the next three nights.”

“That's part of it.” She leaned back in the booth and put her hands in her lap.

“What's the other part?” Matthew asked.

She raised her eyebrows. “I'll let you know later.”

Matthew squinted at the front door. “I count . . . seven locks. Are they good locks?”

Angela looked down. “Yes. They're the best.”

“The front glass looks thick enough.” Matthew bit into a pastry. “Unless Allison has a car. Do you have an alarm system with a screeching alarm?”

“I have a little sticker on my window that says I do,” Angela said. “The ADT alarm system I had died one year into a three-year contract, and despite calling them for months, no one ever came out to fix the problem because they said it was working fine at their end. I had four motion detectors, and none of them ever worked. I kept calling and calling, and then they concluded that lightning had hit my shop, and the maintenance contract didn't cover lightning, so if I paid twenty-five bucks for a service call, and oh, I'm sure you need an upgrade. That'll be another three hundred, ma'am.” She sighed. “It was pure foolishness.”

“
Was
this shop hit by lightning?” Matthew asked.

“No.” She smiled. “You look like you've been hit by lightning, though.”

Matthew shook his head. “Lightning just keeps striking in the same place for me.”

“Uh-huh. Do you really think Allison is insane?” Angela asked.

“Yes.” He shook his head. “She's insane when she's drunk and psychotic when she's sober.”

“That's some combination.” Angela crossed her arms and elbowed Matthew in the side. “When did you know for sure that she was crazy?”

“I think it was when she started naming her future daughters alphabetically,” Matthew said.

Angela shrugged. “That's a little strange, but it isn't necessarily crazy.”

“Amaryllis Anne?” Matthew said. “Bethany Barbara?”

“She'll have her children stuttering their own names,” Angela said. “What else makes you think she's crazy?”

“I am already her boo.”

“
No,
” Angela said.

“Yes,” Matthew said, nodding. “She's expecting her
boo
to show up for heart-shaped meatloaf and a
fun
shopping trip to Ikea tonight, and she has two entire bookcases full of diaries. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases. There must be five hundred of them. We're supposed to read them
all
tonight so I can get to know her better. She said if I don't call her, she'll write something bad about me in her diary tonight.”

“That isn't crazy,” Angela said. “I used to keep a diary.”

“Were you in your thirties?” Matthew asked.

“I was twelve.” She shook her head. “She's still not crazy.”

“How's this: her entire apartment is white. The kitchen counters, the appliances, the carpeting, the furniture, the cabinets, the lamps, the drapes, the bookcases, the—”

“I get the picture,” Angela interrupted. “Okay. That's a little . . . odd, but it's still not crazy.”

Matthew glanced out the window. “I just know she's going to stalk me.”

Angela picked up Matthew's phone and turned it on.

It buzzed immediately.

“You see?” Matthew said. “Turn it off.”

“Wait a second,” she said. “I want to give her time to leave a message.” The phone beeped two minutes later. “I'll bet it's a juicy message.” She waved the phone in front of Matthew. “Does this have a speaker?”

“You want to listen to it?” Matthew asked.

Angela smiled. “I'm still gloating. Work with me, Matthew.”

Matthew dialed his voice mail, turned on the speaker, and set the phone on the table.

“Boo, can you hear me?” Allison asked. “I'm in the shower!”

Angela howled with laughter.

“I only use Roberto Cavalli shower gel and coconut frosting shampoo!” Allison yelled.

Angela continued to howl.

Matthew had to admit it was pretty hilarious.

They heard the water shut off.

“I'm getting out of the shower now, Boo,” Allison said. “Don't you wish you could see me? I
bet
you do. I'm all wet and naked.”

Angela stopped laughing.

Matthew listened a little closer.

“I'm putting on my Roberto Cavalli body lotion now. Don't you wish you could see me—”

Angela shut off the phone. “Are all her messages like that one?”

Matthew shook his head.
I shouldn't have deleted the other fifteen !

Angela frowned. “You enjoyed that, didn't you?”

“
I
didn't turn on the phone.” He nudged her knee with his. “So, is she stalking me?”

“She's stalking you,” Angela said.

“What do I do?” Matthew asked.

Angela looked Matthew in the eye. “This has never happened to you before?”

“Never.”

Angela turned her head slightly. “I doubt that.”

Matthew smiled. “That was almost a compliment.”

“Almost.” Angela nodded. “I guess you can hide out here until I close. After that, you're on your own.”

“Where does your back door lead to?” Matthew asked.

“Grand Street eventually,” Angela said softly.

“I may have to use that exit.” He looked at the grand opening sign now up across the street. “When'd that sign go up?”

Angela sighed. “Sometime last night.”

“You think they would have opened it a day earlier to coincide with Valentine's Day,” Matthew said. “I guess pink clashes with red and yellow.”

Angela nodded.

And now she seems sad. Maybe this will cheer her up.
“Do you have any Valentine's Day plans, Angela?”

Angela looked at her hands. “No.”

And she has a shy streak.
“Neither do I.”

“I hear the sewage treatment plant on Newtown Creek is offering tours today,” Angela said.

“No way,” Matthew said.
Greenpoint has all the fun places to visit.

“I know, nasty, right?” Angela said. “And after looking at how they dispose of poop, they give everyone a Hershey's Kiss.”

“That would not be a fun Valentine's date,” Matthew said.

She stuck her hands in her apron pockets. “I guess we're stuck with each other, huh?”

“You will get to spend part of your evening watching me clean,” Matthew said. “I promise to be entertaining.”

Angela sighed. “I may not be here to clean much longer. If La Estrella gets popular, I may have to close up shop permanently.”

“You can't, Angela,” Matthew said. “I won't have anywhere to hide from psychotic Bloomingdale's buyers.”

“She works at Bloomingdale's? They probably hired on her looks alone.” Angela put her arms on the table, resting her cheek on one hand.

She's really feeling low.
“And I won't have anywhere to go to get good advice.”

“And not take it,” Angela whispered.

“I will take whatever advice you give me from now on,” Matthew said, “and you will have a very clean place, I promise.”

“It doesn't matter.”

“Yes it does,” Matthew said. He touched her arm. “Angela, you're not really serious about closing this place, are you?”

Angela rose up, hiding her hands in her apron pockets again. “I may have no choice. If what goes into that register doesn't cover my bills, I'll have to either relocate or . . . something.”

“Would you consider raising your prices?” Matthew asked.

“No way,” Angela said. “I have the business I have
because
my prices are low. If I raised them, I'd be cutting my own throat. Imagine what you'd hear in line. ‘Oh, Angela's getting all uppity on us because of La Estrella
.
I never thought
she'd
change. I
knew
she was a closet hipster trying to be trendy.' ”

Matthew smiled. “We wouldn't want that. But I don't think you have anything to worry about.”

“Says the expert.”

Matthew picked up his coffee. “Listen. You make my coffee a little different every day. I'm not sure how, but it's never quite the same, and it's always better than good. But over at La Estrella, it will be the same old thing every day, and it will be much more expensive there than here. They are going to price and bore themselves out of the neighborhood. You'll see.”

Angela rolled her shoulders. “Until I see it, I have to worry.”

“This place is unique, Angela, it's never boring, and unique and never boring last the test of time in Williamsburg,” Matthew said.

“Well, my landlord thinks this unique and never boring place needs a rent increase when my lease is up in June,” Angela said. “He says property values are going up because of La Estrella
.
So come June, I won't be able to afford this place, and I also won't be able to afford moving anywhere else and starting over. I have every reason to worry.” She rubbed her right shoulder with her left hand.

Her shoulders are in knots over this. Should I offer to rub them for her? I barely know the woman.
“Well, if you absolutely had to close, what would you do?”

“I don't know.” She sighed. “I really don't know. It's not something I want to think about, but now you're making me think about it.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—”

“No, no, I should be thinking about it,” Angela interrupted. “I know everything there is to know about coffee and almost everything I need to know about baking. Coffee originally grew wild in Ethiopia before they started growing it in Brazil and Indonesia. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“That makes coffee originally African, and I'm one of the few Africans selling it around here,” Angela said. “I can't leave. Did you know that Americans drink four hundred
million
cups of coffee every day? We drink one-fifth of the world's coffee. This is a
good
business. I don't want to leave it or be forced out of it.”

I don't know why I'm pressing this.
“But what if you had to? What would you do?”

“I guess . . . I'd have to go work for someone.” She sighed deeply.

“I can't see you doing that.”
I can't. She's part of the cool décor of this place.

She nodded and smiled. “Neither can I. I can't be a cook in another cook's kitchen, and I damn sure won't be a barista at one of those places. I brew by feel, not by some diagram on a wall.” She craned her neck toward Matthew. “I'm getting too old for a career change, you know?”

“You're not old, Angela,” Matthew said.

She stretched her neck. “I'm thirty-five, and I'm not getting any younger.”