A Girl Like You by vinnie Kinsella (good books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

The bar turned out to be way too brightly lit. Every stool was taken, but a sympathetic server told me to go ahead and take a booth. I got a spritzer and slid into the orange vinyl booth, trying not to look as foolish as I felt alone at the big table.

My cell chirped; it was Buddy, saying he was running late. I took a deep sip of the wine and club soda, pretending to study the menu.

“Can I take your order?” asked a server with a pierced eyebrow.

“I’m good. I’m waiting for someone.”

“OK.” The server turned away.

Ten minutes later, Buddy texted he would be there in five. At 8:40, just as I was getting out of the big orange booth to leave, he ran in—literally, running—with rain on his face. He was wearing the NASCAR baseball cap but looked at least ten years older than in his photo.

I shook his wet hand.

“Buddy?”

“Harold,” he said, sitting down but not taking off his hat.

The server appeared and Harold ordered Captain and Coke.

“So.”

“Yeah, so.” Harold laughed weakly. “You new to the Fish site?”

“Relatively.” I polished off the wine and considered a second one. “You?”

“Three years,” Harold said, tossing the stirrer in his drink onto the table, then sloshing the ice in his glass around with his thumb in a way that made me think of monkeys.

“Really? That’s a long time. And you haven’t met anyone?”

Harold shrugged. “Well I was talking to a few gals, but then I got the cancer .…”

“Cancer?” I instantly felt awful for thinking he looked way older than his photo.

“Yeah, skin. Had this spot on my arm, thought it was a callous or something, you know. Never got it checked until it turned blue and started bleeding.”

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

Harold went through three drinks as he told me in excruciating detail about the radiation and chemo and how his dog sniffed him and howled as if he knew about the cancer. I tried not to look at his long hair but couldn’t help it. It was a bit stringy, but enough to cover his ears from underneath the baseball cap.

“You’re wondering if I lost my hair, right?”

“I— I’m sorry,” I stuttered.

“Well, have a look.” Harold took off his hat and the lights reflected off his starkly bald head. The long strands of hair extended like sideburns.

“I’m sorry,” I said for the third time.

Harold glanced at his watch. “Listen, doll, it’s late and I gotta meet my brother at his house.”

I waved to the server for the check.

He stood up and fished around in the pockets of his jeans. He turned them inside out.

“Geez, I left my wallet at home,” he said.

“I’ve got it,” I said, laying down $40.

It had stopped raining but billowing fog had set in, blanketing the parking lot. I stood uncertainly under the canopy.

“Good night,” I said at last, holding out my hand to shake his.

“Aw, come here,” Harold said, throwing his arms around me with such force he nearly knocked me over.

“Well. OK there,” I said, steadying myself.

“Are we good?” he asked.

“We are good. Where’s your car? Mine’s this way,” I pointed to the left.

“Oh, I don’t drive. My brother’s picking me up.”

“OK, well, good night. I had a nice time,” I said, searching for my car keys.

“Hey, thanks for the drinks, doll.”

We both knew it was a one-time meeting.

I looked in the rearview mirror as I drove away, at Harold in the pools of fog, baseball cap tipped a little too far back, hands in his empty pockets, waiting for his brother.

You just never know. People have all kinds of private battles that no one else can see. I knew I was blessed, and I was thankful for the reminder.

39

I could see something was wrong the minute Maddy came through my front door, even though she was doing her best to hide her tear-streaked face.

“What is it?”

“It’s Cam. It’s over.”

“What? Cameron? No.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“What happened?”

“He dumped me, out of the blue, just like that.” She snapped her fingers.

“Sit down and tell me what happened.”

Madd pulled out a chair and sat down heavily at the kitchen table, reaching down to scoop up Pen.

“First he didn’t return my texts, then my phone calls.”

“Is he OK? Maybe something’s wrong.” I was worried he’d fallen, gotten into an accident, left college and went home, wherever home was. I’d forgotten to ask him that.

“Nothing is wrong except he doesn’t want to see me anymore. He dumped me,” she said, pulling on her hair to look for split ends.

“OK, you said that—how do you know this?”

“I drove over to the safe house,” she sobbed. “He was out on the driveway with Ruby and the look on his face when I pulled in—he treated me like a stranger, Mom, like he didn’t even know—or care—who I was.”

I put my arms around Madd and pulled her close until her sobbing calmed down to light sniffles and the occasional hiccup.

“So, what happened? What did he say?”

“He said I was pushing him for something he wasn’t ready to give.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, Mom, I made a huge mistake.”

“He wasn’t a mistake, sweetie. I thought he was a really nice guy.”

“That’s not it. I did push him.” Madd buried her face in Penny’s neck.

“How?”

“I asked if we were boyfriend/girlfriend or just hanging out.”

Back in my junior high school days, it used to be called going steady. This usually meant holding hands in the hallway and kissing in the cafeteria in the lunch line, waiting for chicken and gravy on a bun. Also, walking to the school bus together for another kiss goodbye, followed by furtive phone calls before dinner. It was known by everyone which couples were boyfriend/girlfriend from day one.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t see anything wrong with that, honey.”

Maddy lifted her face, letting Penny lick her ear. “Mom, it was too early to define our relationship. I should have just let it grow organically.”

I didn’t exactly agree, but it wouldn’t do any good to argue the point.

“What can I do