I snapped back to reality with a gasp. My head throbbed with the knowledge I had just received. I hunched over, panting, my hands on my knees. Is the tower I’ve been seeing for so long some kind of limbo?
I felt chilled to the bone at such a thought. God… why was I given a second chance?
The images of the black tower, the shadow man, and the dark passages within the structure had long haunted my memories, but I didn’t once ever think they were real. Even now, I couldn’t believe they were. It was just my overactive imagination.
I felt guilty trying to convince myself, though. In my bones, in my very heart, I felt like it was true, and I wanted it to be true because I felt such love for Noir. I touched my cheek, as if I could still feel his caring hand upon it, and found my eyes becoming wet with oncoming tears. I swallowed and then sniffled, somehow managing not to cry.
I looked at the clock hanging above my headboard. My eyes widened. Twenty minutes until twelve!
I grabbed the pot of lilies Matthew had bought for me to give her. I paused with it in my hands.
I stared at it intently. I smelled the lilies and slowly, gingerly, set them back down. For some reason, I didn’t want to give them up.
It was the kindest thing Dr. Green had ever done for me, and as selfish as it was, I wanted to hog that kindness to myself. I shuddered, thinking how strange it was that I should still want his attention and his admiration, but…
It wasn’t just that I had a crush on him. It was that I wanted to prove him wrong about shells, and I felt that the pot of lilies was proof that I had. I kept it for myself and grabbed the bat toy I had bought for her earlier, instead. I headed out the door.
It was close by, which I was happy about--only ten minutes away. I parked in the clean, small-scale parking lot just outside the shop.
The Small Bean was a charming, cute little coffee shop. Atop the brown, brick roof was a little statue of an anthropomorphized coffee cup who was winking. The face of the building was constructed with red bricks, and it made the whole shop look like a warm little inn. My eyes lit up as I got out of the car and strolled inside the building.
I looked around.
Melissa hadn’t arrived yet. Part of me was relieved that she might not show up, and part of me was horrified that she might not show up. I was relieved because dating a human woman was incredibly stressful and it would spare me the stress of trying to maintain the relationship if she didn’t show up. I was horrified because I truly did like her and wanted to see her again, and if she didn’t show up, I would lose the one person who cared about me since I had graduated.
I tried to stay strong. I sat at one of the checkered tables, my eyes glued to the door. I waited one minute, and then another. I drummed my fingers on the table, gulping. Where is she…?
Every second of waiting was agony.
If fifteen minutes go by, I guess I’ll assume that she was just teasing me the whole time. I thought to myself bitterly.
Eventually, ten minutes went by, and I was sweating in apprehension of what I would say to her if she did show up. And suddenly, that reality almost seemed worse than a reality in which she was just teasing me the whole time.
What am I thinking? No reality would be worse than that. This might be hard for me, but she’s taken a genuine interest in me.
The door swung open, interrupting my chain of thoughts, and in walked Melissa wearing a hot pink, tight dress that hung above her knees. The dress had a plunging neckline, showing off cleavage that I couldn’t deny looked softer than the softest pillow.
She wore a pair of electric blue heels that clacked across the wooden floor as she headed my way. She swept her hair over one of her shoulders, making me blush all-the-harder.
She came to a stop by my side. “Should we order?”
I nodded, clearing my throat. “Of course.”
She kissed my cheek, and I shyly averted my gaze. I followed her to the counter to order. I tried not to sound like I was going to puke when I said, “What should I order?”
It didn’t work. My voice was trembling and wobbly. Definitely a vomit voice.
She either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Milo always liked the pumpkin spice stuff. How about you try that?”
I nodded. “Sure. What about you?”
“I like the double chocolate chip.” She said, approaching the cashier.
I grabbed her by the arm. “I can pay.”
She had a look on her face like she was going to burst out laughing--as if it were ridiculous that a shell could pay for anyone--and then, being the kind soul that she was, realized that that was rude. She smiled a radiant smile. “Of course. Thank you so much.”
Being able to pay for her made me feel proud of myself.
I straightened my clothes and announced to the cashier who had a dead look in his eyes, “One pumpkin spice coffee and one double chocolate chip, please!”
“Coming right up.” The cashier replied drolly.
Once I paid for the drinks, the two of us stood to the side of the ordering counter so that we wouldn’t look like we were in line. Melissa was smiling at me, and I averted my gaze--finding it difficult to know what to say to such a well-off, gorgeous woman.
“You know, a lot of the men I’ve dated in the past--before Milo--have kind of been leeches. It’s really refreshing to have someone who doesn’t expect me to pay for them.” Melissa said.
“What about Milo? Did he pay for you?” I asked.
Melissa tapped her red nails against her cheek. “Actually, we usually decided who was paying before we went out. This was before we had money, of course, so we kind of had to. Milo never liked me paying if he could help it, though.”
I smiled at that, happy to realize that I had something more in common with Milo than looks, after all.
The server called my name and placed my order by the cashier. I picked it up and the two of us sat at a table together. I took many sips of my drink, having many things to ask, but not knowing exactly how.
Luckily, she took the pressure off me by asking something, herself. “So, how has life been since you were reborn? Are you still interested in engineering?”
I hastily shook my head. At her look of disappointment, I quickly added, “I really like art, but I can’t be an artist--both because it isn’t practical and the government won’t allow it.” I shrugged, not knowing what else to say. “I’ve spent most of my life in the clinic. I thought I would love any job where I got to work with or serve people, but I was wrong.”
Melissa moved some of her black curls out of her face as she took a sip of her drink. “Milo died about five years ago, which means you’ve been alive for about five years, right? And you’ve been in clinics for most of that time? What was that like?”
I swallowed. I didn’t want to tell her about the abuse I had suffered--I didn’t think she would understand--not only that, but I didn’t want her to pity me. It was also a little too much to tell on a first date, I thought. Instead, I decided to focus on the good times I had experienced. I smiled just thinking about it. “I met a lot of great shells in the clinics, including my best friends Lyle and Cherri. They taught me a lot.” I wished they hadn’t, but my eyes became glassy at just mentioning the pair of them.
Melissa smiled at that, but there was a twinge of confusion in her smile. “What exactly do you do in those shell clinics?”
I was shocked at how little she knew about it. “We learn skills, and for some of us, our unwanted behaviors are reduced. I, for example, can’t read or write or do math very well. In clinic, I improved at it. Oh, I’m also pretty uncoordinated and don’t have the best memory. Those are also things we worked on. I never displayed much problem behavior, though.”
Melissa looked bewildered at this statement. “You? Not good at math? Come on, Milo. You must be pulling my leg. You got the highest grades out of any of us when it came to math.”
I sipped my drink, not looking her in the eyes. If there was anything that hurt my feelings more than anything else, it was when someone brought to attention my lack of intelligence when it came to academic skills. I shrugged. “Well, I’m not Milo.”
Her eyes turned watery at my sentence. I supposed it just hadn’t sunk in to her that I wasn’t Milo, but now, she was recognizing that I truly wasn’t, and it hurt her.
I prayed that it wouldn’t turn her away. I wanted her to stay, no matter what, even if I had to pretend like I was someone I wasn’t.
She cleared her throat, taking deep breaths, closing her eyes--pushing her tears back into their ducts. Then, she asked, “Tell me more about this Lyle person.”
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