City in a Garden
Boyd
competition isn’t my idea of a good time, I’m so glad Sophie invited me on this trip. Getting some time with her, away from family drama—on both sides—and the daily grind we’re accustomed to, has been refreshing. I don’t know if I’m supposed to ask her to be my girlfriend and make this official. Or maybe she’d resent that title because it represents a dynamic she wants no part of. Or maybe, like me, she feels like the natural progression of our relationship means that step is implied.
Whatever the case, I continue to stare at her sleeping form on the bed just a few feet from mine, wondering how my twenty-two-year-old self ever thought I was serious about Maggie. The best thing that woman ever did for me was respect what I said during her recent unwelcome visit to the café.
Sophie stirs and stretches, then rolls to face me. “How long have you been awake?” she asks, her voice heavy with sleep.
“Just a few minutes. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Mm. You didn’t.” She sits up and stretches again, groaning as her white tank top lifts to expose the soft skin of her abdomen. “My bladder did.” She pops up off of the plush bed and darts for the bathroom.
While she’s doing whatever she needs to do in the bathroom, I check out the coffee maker left on the dresser. This may be a five-star hotel, but their coffee choice is sub par. I can’t, in good conscience, consume this abomination. I pull up café options within walking distance on my phone and settle on the one I’ll run to after I brush my teeth. We aren’t supposed to be at Ashlyn’s competition until 2pm, so we have time.
Sophie exits the bathroom, rubbing her eyes. “I need caffeine. ASAP.”
I hold up the sachet of coffee grounds. “This coffee is awful. I’m going to run out to get some down the street.”
“Oh. Just give me a minute. We can go together.” She gifts me with a sleepy smile and something about her saying ‘together’ hits me right in the heart.
“Okay.”
We dance around each other in the small room, darting in and out of the bathroom to get ourselves ready. Sophie slips on her boots while I zip up my jacket, and in what felt like a well-practiced routine, we’re ready.
The streets are lined with multi-storey brick buildings, reminiscent of home. It’s the first time we’ve been able to really see things in the daylight since we were so rushed yesterday before the competition, and afterward, it was dark. Like most cities, Boston is rich with history, and we stop to admire different statues and read about the people they were modelled after. The hunt for different statues leads us into Boston Common Park, so we follow the trail in search of caffeine.
We find a little souvenir shop a short way down the path, which we stop at to browse. I get myself a black sweater that says “Wicked Smaht” and Sophie a grey one with “Comfy Clothes and Murdah Shows” emblazoned across the chest. She’s giddy excited over it, and once again, I’m struck by how different she is than the woman I initially pegged her for. She’s not just content with the simple things; she loves them. Even though there’s nothing simple about her.
With our bag of sweaters in hand, we continue through the park until we reach a carousel. It looks magical behind the dusting of snow falling. Like the inside of a snow globe.
Sophie squeals, clutching my hand and dragging me toward it. “Come on. We need to take a ride.” She doesn’t give me the opportunity to argue, but I don’t want to.
We pay for two tickets, then wait for the ride to stop and the current riders to vacate. I assume Sophie will go for one of the carriage seats that stays still and just goes along for the ride, but in another surprise, she chooses a frog wearing a saddle. She’s near hysterics, looking at it as she climbs on its back. I try to stand beside her, because I can’t bring myself to embrace a child’s ride the same way she does.
“Mount your steed, Boyd!” Sophie insists.
I glance over at the weird creature that has been relegated to a life beside the strange frog. “This is a cat… with a fish in its mouth. It’s not a st—”
“Hop on. You need to live a little.”
A young girl on the back of a psychedelic butterfly behind us sends me a nod that is hard to argue with. Between her and Sophie glaring at me and the ride about to start, I give in to peer pressure. I mount my cat/steed and I’ve never felt so ridiculous. That is, until Sophie snaps a photo and starts laughing again.
Before I can get payback, the ride starts moving. Sophie has never looked so laid back and full of joy in all the time we’ve spent together. She’s relaxed to a degree I didn’t think was possible. I’m not sure if it’s the change of location, the vision of me on the back of a pink cat, or the carousel ride itself, but I never want to stop seeing her this way. I slide my phone from my pocket and catch a series of candid photos of her. One arm out, catching the wind as we spin in circles. Both hands clutching the pole, leaning her head back. And gazing at me with an expression I’m so grateful I’ve captured.
Once we dismount and exit the fencing around the carousel, Sophie drags me to a food truck that sells coffee and pastries. Food trucks are notoriously overlooked as the true culinary delights they are. This one offers fresh ground espresso and pastries. We both order the same thing—flat white and a strawberry cream cheese Danish.
We walk over to the frog pond that is frozen over and used for skating. It’s still early, so there aren’t many people out on the ice.
“Remember the night your shower broke?” I ask around the last bite of my Danish.
“Pretty hard to forget,” Sophie replies, shielding her smile behind her coffee cup.
I’m glad I’m not the only one who has reserved space in my memory for that night. “We were supposed to go skating.”
“Oh! I would have loved to show you my moves.”
Her irresistible grin makes me want to strap on a pair of skates right now and take her for a spin. Until she starts laughing and I realize she’s teasing.
“Trust me, I liked the moves you showed me more than any triple axle you might have done.”
She levels me with her sultry eyes that make me forget the rest of the world exists. “Good thing, because it would have been a miracle if I even stayed upright.”
“I would have held you.” I step closer, wrapping my arms around her, but I can’t clasp my hands because of my coffee cup.
She licks her lips. Starts blinking rapidly. Leans in closer. All telltale signs that she’s waiting for me to kiss her. Who am I to deny her? I press my lips to hers and she instantly collapses against me. Even though our bodies are pressed against each other, our lips are the point of contact that feels like the breath of life being blown into me. First her lips, then once she grazes her teeth along mine, our tongues meld together in a caffeine-fuelled fury. I have my own flat white, but I want to taste hers.
We stand here, lost in each other for several minutes, until a little boy, who was on the carousel with us, makes an exaggerated gagging sound and shouts, “Ew, Mommy, they’re kissing.” That’s a rapid and complete buzzkill. Little Tommy couldn’t just enjoy his ride on the back of his rooster and mind his own business.
The snow starts falling faster. Snowflakes have more staying power in greater numbers, so the ground turns white around us while we keep each other warm.
“Let’s go be tourists.” Sophie clutches my hand with a surprising intensity and tows me toward the park entrance.
“Can you squeeze a little tighter, Soph? I still have feeling in my fingers.”
She releases my hand, dropping hers to her sides. “Sorry. I guess that’s what you do when you find something worth holding on to.” She shrugs, and she’s off again.
And suddenly, I realize, even if it means losing circulation in my extremities, I never want her to let go again.