Assignment #4
Dearest Pisces, it began, as it usually did. Feeling like the stars are against you? That part was new. That part was new every week (it had to be), but it was the part about feeling at odds with the cosmos that was truly novel for a certain Pisces.
Don’t worry.
The words were deleted as fast as they were typed. Don’t worry. Now that was mindless advice. Not entirely bad advice, necessarily, but it was the how that was missing, and the how was important. People didn’t know how to stop worrying, so they never would, not as long as there were things that could go wrong.
Henry took a sip of lukewarm coffee, but after leaving the mug his fingers failed to return to their familiar positions on the keyboard. He looked at his reflection in the monitor (it was easy with a blank page), and turned one corner of his mouth up at himself.
“Don’t worry, buddy,” he said.
It was time to quit for the day. The look on his reflection’s face told him he’d be no good,
not with this attitude.
***
It was a slow day at Dot’s. Bad weather was always bad for business. The waitresses stood at the bar drinking cappuccinos and flipping through newspapers.
“Five letter word for a healthy lunch choice,” said Sarah.
“Vodka,” said Lindsey. Lindsey was having a bad day.
“Salad, Sarah, come on. I don’t know why you even do those things. We end up giving you 90% of the answers.” Vanessa said, flipping to the horoscope page in her Tribune.
Leo, put on your dancing shoes! It said. Spring is here, and something new and exciting is just around the corner. Don’t turn down any invitations!
Well hot damn, Vanessa thought.
***
Henry sat on a bench outside his apartment building. It was raining. This, at least, was a good sign. He closed his eyes, letting the water pour down his face, feeling each droplet form its own pathway down his cheek, or if one was feeling dramatic, off the tip of his nose. He was waiting for every inch of himself to feel the rain, he wanted to be immersed in it. He stared at a dry spot on his pants, waiting for the cosmos to notice it.
March had, thus far, been a challenging month. The universe seemed to be laughing at him. He
was doing his absolute best to move on, like every sign in the sky was telling him to, yet she kept appearing in his life, like a case of herpes. It certainly didn’t help that the new guy followed her around day and night.
“Oh,” she would say when she saw him, and cringe, embarrassed that again the awkward threesome was forced to make small talk, an activity that was equally painful for all parties involved. And thus, he couldn’t seem to get her out of his mind. Just as she had always been, she was all-consuming, when Henry caught a glimpse of that red hair, red that didn’t hide under any brown or auburn, red that was shamelessly red, fiery lava firetruck red…
Damnit.
Let go, buddy. That advice seemed easy enough to follow. But it wasn’t. He shut his eyes and clenched his fists, drawing air into his lungs, then relaxed, his breath like the tide on its way out.
Finally a droplet, rejected from Henry’s black hair, which had no vacancies, darkened the lone spot of dry fabric.
Smiling, he said “We can work together.” Then he stood up, wrung the water out of his tie, emptied the pools from his shoes, and went inside.
***
Vanessa tapped the toe of her beaded chiffon pumps nervously on the floor, a lump rising in her throat. So it had come to this. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, nothing. Friday she had invited herself out for drinks after work and, depressed by both the lack of invitations and the disappointment of being let down by the Moldable Destiny horoscope, which was, she realized, arguably the best friend she had, she had let a questionable man buy her several more gin and tonics than were strictly necessary.
She woke up Saturday morning to a pounding headache and a bad taste in her mouth, but she was in her own bed, alone (this, at least, was a sign of growing maturity since her college days), and when he called later that day her drooping self-esteem and eagerness to help the universe fulfill her destiny caused her to accept his invitation for dinner.
He called the next day. How desperate is he, she wondered. And then, wait, how desperate am I?
And he was late. How embarrassing.
Tossing a five on the bar for her coffee, Vanessa stood up, ready now for a hot shower and a comfortable bed. The sidewalk outside the café was lit by a glowing pearl of a moon in a navy sky filled with lying stars.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” said a voice.
“Beautiful, maybe. But they sure as hell can’t be trusted,” she said, turning towards the voice, which was now chuckling. It belonged to a man with effervescent green eyes and a head full of shaggy black hair.
“I like your shoes,” he said.