A Pastel Dream

He was deaf.

She didn’t realize it at first.

Obviously she jumped to conclusions. Who wouldn’t?

She must’ve called out at least seven times.

Hello?

Can I have the butterscotch sundae?

Hi!      

You there?

The butterscotch sundae please!

Hello!

Excuse me?

He was ignoring a customer?

The neighborhood was known for its ambient environment and benevolent people.

The parks.

The green.

The cars.

The houses.

So why was he the exception?

And then there was a tap on her shoulder.

She turned.

A kind old woman.

‘My dear young lady. The poor lad is deaf. You've got to point out what you want.’ She said.

Ashley felt the red.

She wanted to walk away.

She was a sore thumb in this beautiful, nice neighborhood.

Everybody knew everybody.

Except her.

She was the exception. Not him.

She tapped on the glass twice.

The boy who had had his eyes focused on a paperback, finally, looked up.

Ashley pointed at the butterscotch tray and then the picture of the sundae on the countertop.

The boy nodded once, smiled once and got to work.

~ ~ ~ ~

Ashley loved the rightfully chosen dessert.

She loved the design on it.

She loved the love put behind making it.

She loved the warmth, the bright beautiful warmth.

Yes, she was having a good day.

And he was one of the reasons.

~ ~ ~ ~

The ice-cream parlor became her haven.

~ ~ ~ ~

They knew her now.

He knew her now.

There hadn’t been a day in the past month she wasn’t seen in the parlor.

 

She liked his face.

She liked his movements.

The way he moved his hands. They way he always smiled at all the customers. The way he never complained or mirrored exhaustion in his features, balancing school life and work.

She admired him.

Respected him.

She looked up to him…

She looked up at him.

There was a butterscotch sundae in front of her.

‘I didn’t order this.’ She motioned and said.

‘It’s on the house.’ He replied. Smoothly. Kindly.

Her face must’ve portrayed her feelings.

Like the dusk.

The parlor was almost empty.

Her work was done for the day.

School reports.

They were never ending.

‘You’ve been a generous patron.’

The boy was sitting across from her.

It was true.

Whenever she had coins, she would place them in the transparent tip jar at the countertop.

And she had coins with her almost everyday.

Ashley nodded.

‘Thank you for the sundae.’

‘Thank you for always coming here.’

‘I love this place.’

 

His smile.

The irresistible one. The kind one.

Their eyes met.

‘Yeah. Me too.’

He said.

~ ~ ~ ~

Sometimes it was difficult reaching out to him.

Getting through to him.

The day she was working for her finals in the little haven of hers had been a day she couldn’t etch out of the back of her mind.

He was heading out early.

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Ashley had no reason to stay behind.

She wanted to walk home with him.

She wanted to walk by his side.

Stay by his si—

Yes, this was a good chance.

But he couldn’t hear her.

She’d called out.

He couldn’t hear her.

She couldn’t catch up with him.

He couldn’t hear her.

Yes, it was difficult sometimes.

So she continued looking at him.

~ ~ ~ ~

Later that week, she caught a cold.

She had to stay in bed for three days.

The rain made her feel worse.

Her desire for something sweet was so strong.

Her want for something sweet.

Her want for someone sweet.

~ ~ ~ ~

Her sickness had finally left her alone.

A week.

She’d missed the parlor for an entire week.

Ashley floated to her dream on that fateful day.

Clouds had been hugging the sky.

They were heavy.

Just like her heart when she found out he hadn’t come in that day.

His absence was like a thorn. In her heart.

In her mind.

It had been so long.

It had been too long.

~ ~ ~ ~

For the first time, she hadn’t enjoyed her butterscotch sundae.

She had found it sloppy.

Boring.

Dull.

Just like the weather.

She felt so bad, she could cry.

The sky felt sorry for her.

So the sky cried on her behalf.

She didn’t have an umbrella.

She had no other choice but to get drenched.

She felt the world cruel.

She felt the world blue.

Her mind was on overdrive.

Her feelings weren’t new.

But the next situation was.

His shoes.

His hand.

His umbrella.

His face.

His lips, his eyes, his hair.

His smile.

He was right there.

Not a drop on her shoulders.

And not a drop in her eyes.

‘It’s been a while.’ He said.

The rain was loud.

‘I’d been sick.’ She said.

‘I see. How are you now?’

‘I’m fine now. Thank you for—’

She stopped.

The rain stopped.

The cars honked.

The trees swayed.

And her mind flew.

‘You… can hear me?’

He nodded as he held her hand.

Yes.

He could hear her.

~ ~ ~ ~

A pastel device in his fourth organ.

It led to a pastel demise of the one-sidedness of her love.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The day was a sunny one.

The day she’d walked in.

He had an exam the next day.

Nobody appreciated failure.

And nobody appreciated getting ignored.

But he couldn’t help it.

A birth defect.

No one to blame.

His life had been an endless, slow song.

Until the day she’d walked in.

Her face was pretty.

He liked her face.

He liked her personality.

He liked the way she licked the last bits of the pastel ice cream off her spoon each time.

He liked the way she carefully placed his future in the tip jar.

A future he was working hard to achieve.

As quickly as could be.

A future that had her in it.

A pastel dream.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~