Too Much Wanting Leaves Me Hungry
Brian takes out a clear-lidded plastic container with three small dessert dishes inside. There is a square blue ice pack beneath them. His large hand peels back the lid. Then he takes the cellophane off each bowl to reveal servings of dark chocolate swirled to a tip, topped with chocolate mint candy and coffee bean garnish.
“Oh, you are just killing me rotten me with that,” Becca says. “What is it? I can’t wait to try it.”
“Coffee mocha mint mousse,” Brian says with a beaming smile. “Chocolate heaven. Chocolate is so sexy.” He widens his eyes, blinks his lashes over bright blue.
Sexy? Treadmill, here I come. I force a small smile. “Looks amazing,” I say, trying to imagine pushing all those seemingly harmless calories (which, of course, they are most certainly not) onto my tongue and swallowing them to my gut, where they will sit for the rest of my mortal life.
“This is so decadent—you both will love it.” Brian smiles an almost wicked smile as he gingerly lifts out the first bowl. “Love this.”
Becca claps and squeals. “It’s like Christmas in October.”
He doles out the mousse bowls, setting mine down first, then Becca’s, then his own. He presents us each with a plastic spoon. “Bon appétit!” he says.
“This looks orgasmic, Brian.” Becca’s eyes are big, and her beautiful, lush lashes flicker together in front of her green eyes.
“Hope so.” He winks at me.
Game on, boy. “How about you climb through my window tonight and come feed me this in bed, Brian?”
Becca chokes and covers her mouthful of mousse with her hand. “What?” She is laughing now. “Did I miss something important?” Her eyes are wide. “Ain’t no subtlety in you today, my dear friend.”
“Would love to. You gonna leave it open for me? As promised?” Brian smiles a big, satisfied-looking grin as he slips a spoonful of mousse into his mouth and rolls his eyes. “Damn, I’m so good.” He licks his lips.
I still haven’t even stuck my spoon in mine yet. I just keep staring at it, wondering how many calories this bad boy will slap into my body. “You are the one who said ‘orgasmic,’ Becca. So, you started it.”
“You gonna eat or what, woman?” Becca asks, waving her spoon my way.
Brian picks up my spoon. “Here, allow me.” He scoops out enough to fill half the spoon and raises it to my lips.
I smile and open my lips. He delivers it to my mouth, and the luscious flavor hits me solid. It’s rich, decadent, smooth, and holy effing amazing. I shake my head as I savor and swallow it. “Boy, you are something else.” Now he’s got me smiling.
“Now that’s the face I was going for,” he says with a big grin that makes me feel something … like, I don’t know what. But a definite something. “I like seeing your facial expressions when you are enjoying yourself.”
“Hear! Hear!” says Becca. “Me too. And it’s so satisfying to see you feeling good when you eat, my dear tiny friend.”
Ugh, did she have to tarnish this?
Brian hands me the spoon, and our fingers touch, my heart is glittering like snow in sunshine. I lock eyes with him, and as he holds my unblinking gaze for a split second, I see a mountain of love in there before he snatches eye contact away from me, looking back down at his mousse. I’m left a bit shocked that I wish he hadn’t looked away.
“You make up this recipe too?” I ask. Talking about something helps me cope with whatever is going on inside me.
“Yes, this happened on trial number four, then I stopped messing with it because, yeah, it’s perfect. Right?”
“More than perfect,” Becca says as she slurps her last spoonful from her bowl.
I still have more than half left. Brian is almost done with his. “I guess I’m the slowpoke.” I eat scoop after scoop, regretting but also loving each rich, scrumptious spoonful. I should not eat again the rest of the day. “Thank you, Brian. That was very delicious.”
“You are welcome, my queen. Tomorrow, same time, same place. New food.” He stands up. “I have something I need to go do. Have a good day, you two.”
“Will do. You too,” Becca says.
“Bye,” I say.
“What the heck? You OK?” she asks. “You look confused.”
“No. I don’t think I am. Becca, it felt amazing when I touched his hand. I think … I think I might actually be liking this pest.”
She giggles. Claps. “Oh, yay! I was hoping that was what was happening. You two would be awesome together.” She plays with the zipper on her sweatshirt, flicking it up and letting it fall, over and over again. “From the look on your face, I knew it.”
“Shit. Was I obvious?”
“A little, but I think he liked it.”
I put my chin in my hand, elbow on the table. “I don’t think so. He looked away. Never in a million years did I ever expect to feel this way about him. Like ever.”
“Just goes to show that sometimes persistence pays off.”
“You think I should ask him out?” I ask.
“Yes.” She nods. “I do.”
Excited chills make me extend my feet out, stretching my legs straight, and I flicker my fingers together in front of my chest. “I might just do it,” I say with a smile.
The next day, as I’m getting ready to go and meet Brian and Becca, Hunter stops by my locker.
I say, “Hunter, I … ”
“Wait, hear me out,” he says. He whips his arm from behind his back and presents me with a yellow rose. “Just to be friends. OK? Just friends.”
Oi-ya, he knows how to melt my heart, and with that sexy smile, he could get me to agree to just about anything. Not gonna tell him that though. I steel my knees, hoping they stay strong next to this hot pile of sex, this boy.
I smile. “OK. Friends.” I bring it to my nose and smell it. “It’s luscious,” I say.
He leans in, and I put it in front of his nose. “Um. Yes.” He stares into my eyes, his bruised eye mostly open now, and the force of his gaze almost knocks me back against my locker. “Peace offering. We are friends. Right?”
“Yes, we can be friends.” I smile at him. Really, I’m still wishing for more than just friendship from him, but I know it won’t work. Not this year, or probably ever in this school. That would make the peer-tormenting eternal, like permanent slut-ville. Or would it?
I shake my head. Nope, can’t even consider it—I can’t trust him. Bottom line.
He nods at me, still smiling that sexy smile, and then leaves, and I’m left holding a yellow rose from a boy who wants me, and whom I want, though neither of us can have each other. But … then there is Brian popping into my head again to confuse the shit out of my heart. Choices, choices.
I take the rose, because it’s too beautiful to lock away from the light of day, and head out to meet my friends. Becca and Brian are both already there at the table. A thermos sits opened with steam billowing out next to three ceramic bowls: one yellow, one red, and one blue.
“Who gave you that?” Becca asks, pointing to the yellow rose.
I hold it up. “Beautiful, isn’t it? It’s from Hunter. Peace offering, to be friends.”
Brian’s face clouds, but he shakes his head, then smiles at me. “Hungry?”
“Yes, I am. I skipped breakfast.”
“Landra, what do I always say?” Becca shakes her finger at me.
“I know. I know. ‘Landra, eat a carrot, just eat something.’ I’m working on getting better about that, Becca, I promise.”
Brian pours what looks like chili into the bowls and takes a bag of corn chips from his backpack. “Vegetarian, low-fat, high-protein chili. Loaded with lots of healthy beans, vegetables, and spices.”
“This looks really good, Brian,” I say. “I love the desserts, but this, it’s great.” Healthy food means less treadmill time.
“I thought I’d better offer you something healthy after the mousse and the pie the last few days.”
“Pie?” Becca asks. “Did I miss pie?”
I realize I never told Becca the whole thing about the apple pie saga. How did I manage to forget that one? “Brian delivered an apple pie to my house on Monday.”
“Yes, I had to replace the one I didn’t follow through on.” He smiles. “I am a man of my word.”
“Well, how was it?” she asks.
“Divine, flaky, sweet, perfect.” I give her a look that says it was more than just good pie.
Brian smiles. “You flatter me.” He puts a spoon in each bowl. “Do it again. I kinda love it.”
I laugh. “This looks like the best chili I’ve ever seen, and I can’t wait to devour it.” And you. Say what? I stare at the bowl, shake my head, not sure what the heck I am thinking.
“OK, then. Let’s hop to it,” he says. He opens the chip bag and leaves it in the center of the table.
Becca grabs a handful and plops the chips into her bowl. “This looks so yummy.”
The bowl is filled with carrots, mushrooms, tomatoes, onions, several types of beans, and something white. “What’s the white veggie?” I ask.
“I’m glad you asked. It’s parsnips.”
“Parsnips, huh?” Becca asks.
“Yep, a healthy veggie.” Brian looks at me. “For my queen.” He smiles a teasing smile.
I grin back at him. “You spoil me.”
“Oh, you wish. You ain’t seen nothing yet.” He laughs an evil laugh. “I’ll get you yet with my cooking wizardry, my sweet!”
“You’ve got the power,” Becca says, nodding.
That he does. Becca gobbles up her chili quickly and stands up to leave with an excuse that she needs to go do something. But I know what she’s really doing.
“See you tomorrow, Becca,” Brian says.
“See you on the bus, and thanks,” I say to Becca as she smiles at me.
She squeezes my shoulder and walks away.
I smile at Brian. “Thanks for making this delicious chili. I love the veggies, and it has the perfect amount of spice.” I’m on my last spoonful. I’m afraid he might hear my heart pounding.
“Thanks,” he says. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I do. Very much.” My palms are sweating. I’ve never in my whole life ever asked a boy out, and I’m nervous as all hell. My pulse is racing, and I can’t catch it to slow it down. “Brian,” I say. My heart is booming, shaking my insides. I’m so afraid he can tell. Am I shivering?
“Yes?”
“I was wondering if you’d like to go to a movie with me sometime.” I hold my breath.
I swear he’s looking at the rose. “Oh.”
OMG. Did he just say “Oh”? Oh, crap.
“I mean, or like to dinner, or for a coffee, or whatever.”
“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” He shoves all the dirty chili bowls into a plastic bag and won’t meet my eyes. There isn’t even a hint of smile at the corners of his mouth. He caps his thermos and stands. “Same place. Same time. Tomorrow?” he asks. Still no smile. At. All.
I nod. My whole body is frozen, including my brain. And then he just leaves. I sit and stare at the yellow rose. Does he think I’m really still with Hunter? Oh, no. I grab my phone and text Becca.
Allandra: He said NO
Becca: What????!!!
Allandra: He said no. He said it would ruin our friendship.
Becca: Wow. Never saw that one coming.
Allandra: Me neither.
Becca: I’m so sorry.
Allandra: Thanks. Gotta go, but I’m devastated. And late.
Becca: We’ll talk more on the bus.
Allandra: OK.
I feel tears pushing their way toward making me a hot mess. I stand. What do I do now?
The rest of the day feels like I’m walking on sharp rocks toward a destination I don’t even want to reach. I’m so stupid. Now the boy who has loved me forever doesn’t even want me anymore. Or does he? He flirts with me like a fiend. A horny fiend.
I get on the bus before Becca does. I’m twisting the yellow rose between my fingers, trying to avoid the thorns as she sits down beside me.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
I keep twisting, snag my skin slightly on a thorn. Nod my head.
“Maybe try again?”
“Maybe,” I say. “I thought, with how we flirt, that maybe we would work.”
“I think it will, right? I mean, he seems totally hot for you. Always has been that way.”
I shake my head. “That’s why I’m so confused.”
“Right.” She takes the rose. “Maybe it was this? Maybe he thinks you’re going back to Hunter. You aren’t, are you?”
I shake my head and look out the bus window. “I had that thought too. But no. I’m not going back to Hunter. Even though I know he wants me. He’s sorry and all. And a big part of me still wants him.” I put my head in my hands. “Oh, I’m so confused, Becca.”
She puts her arm around my shoulders and squeezes. “My love, I’m sure it will work out.”
I shrug with her arm still around me. “Hope so,” I say. Maybe I should just chuck that rose out the window and let it die in the last bits of snow.
I wake up the next morning sick to my stomach. I run to the bathroom, ready to vomit, but I only get the blasted dry heaves. I sit down next to the toilet. It would help if I had eaten dinner last night, but I just couldn’t. Then I couldn’t sleep all night, tossing, turning—then the fricking alarm went off right after I fell asleep. There’s a knock at the bathroom door.
“Landra, you OK in there?” It’s Jackson.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“I made scrambled eggs. Come eat some.”
Jackson cooked again? “I’m not hungry,” I say.
“Landra … ” he says.
“OK, I’ll be right there.”
Jackson hands me a plate loaded with eggs. He sets down a banana beside my plate and a cup of coffee. “So, you like this Brian guy?”
“Yes, but I don’t think he likes me anymore.”
“Bullshit,” Jackson says. “The boy made you a pie. That’s love.” He sits next to me in front of his own plate of eggs.
“Well, I asked him out yesterday. He rejected me.” I push the eggs around with my fork. Add some more salt and take a bite.
“Try again. Bet he knows about Hunter.”
“Yeah, everyone in the whole school knows about Hunter. And me. And you.”
“I know. So, give him some time. Hang out with him. If he’s sure you like him, when he’s sure, I bet he’ll say yes.”
I try to smile but fail. “Maybe you are right.” I shove more eggs into my mouth. I should eat, get some food for my brain so I can flirt with Brian today. Win him like he’s managed to win me. I need to woo the wooer. How is it that my brother is giving me dating advice? “I have just the idea.”
“I like him. He makes pie.” He smiles. “Really good pie.”
I laugh. “Yes. He makes lots and lots of good stuff.”
“I like him already.” He stands. “I gotta get to school.”
“Thanks for making me eggs. And making me eat them.”
“Thanks for obliging.”
I stand up and grab our plates. “I’ll take care of these.”
“Thanks, and Landra, don’t give up. Be more stubborn than him. I know you have it in you. There ain’t a guy I know who doesn’t like to be chased. Remember tag in elementary school?”
“Right. Very true.”
After he leaves, I smile. Because he is right.
I rinse off the plates, and fake Mom pops into my head. I haven’t made an imaginary plan of her whereabouts in a while. Wish I could, but it’s getting harder and harder to imagine her with Christine always in our kitchen. I wish I could hug my fake Mom, thank her for all the tough and lonely times she got me through. Tell her how the bloated promise of her return always carried me to the next day, the next week, the next year. I wish I could kiss her translucent cheek, hold her see-through hand, hug her ghostlike body. But I can’t, so standing here, in front of her sink, her stove, her coffeepot, her toaster, I hug myself instead. Tears slip down my cheeks.
“I will miss you, my fake Mom,” I say, my arms still around my gut. “But you are in here forever.” I touch my heart with an open palm. I walk out to the living room and put my finger on Mom’s face in the picture of her on the mantel. I keep my finger there, wondering if her thoughts and feelings will flow from the picture into me and give me insight into what life was like with her here every day, even a tiny, bitty inkling of memories of her love. Jackson and I are little in the picture, and we look like we were pestering each other, and Dad is so young-looking, no grays littering his hair. Mom’s face is beautiful with a proud, happy smile radiating the joy I imagine she must have felt that day. I pick up the photo and hug it, tears streaming down my face. “Bye,” I whisper. “Love you always, forever, to heaven and back, where someday, I hope to see you again, Mom.”