I bought Caroline dinner and a dress. I accidentally dumped our drinks all over her. I guess it worked out, though, because it was her birthday today. I think my company made her happy. That felt nice.
-_~* Week 2 *~_-
Locking his screen again, Santiago starts to really pick up the pace. For reasons he can’t explain to even himself, he asked to be dropped five blocks away from the diner that Caroline wanted to meet up at tonight. Due to traffic and terrible drivers, he’s running late and panicking that Caroline is sitting there alone thinking that he’s standing her up. “Mierda!”
Anxiety takes hold as he checks his phone again, just to make sure he didn’t read the time incorrectly. He needs to be there by 4:15. Running late is not an option. Huffing in defeat, he starts sprinting, jerking his gaze from sign to sign to make sure he doesn’t miss his destination.
Meet me at Angelina’s by the courthouse at 4:15?
Texting Caroline felt strange, especially considering that he saw her in the cafeteria all the time. He didn’t think that she actually saw him because he generally saw her from behind, but if she did, neither of them acknowledged it. He had asked if she wanted to grab dinner again on Thursday sometime after leaving Grief Group and she responded immediately. Then nothing. It makes for an awkward dynamic. Somehow he’d been thinking that seeing each other in person, three times now, would make everything a bit smoother between them.
Angelina’s isn’t quite where Caroline indicated. He only sees the alley sign by chance because he dodges left to avoid running into a woman stopping to tend to her crying baby in a stroller. While gasping for air, he goes to the front door and sees that it’s a restaurant. It’s the long sort of restaurant where the only places to sit are either at the counter or in a booth along the windows.
Pushing through the door, an annoying chime makes him cringe at the predictability of this old-fashioned eatery. Everything is clean enough and the servers that are buzzing around tending to this or that welcome Santiago with warm smiles. Their cheery tones give the place a bit more charm than it probably deserves.
“Where are you sitting, honey?” the plumper of the two women asks, coming around the counter with her notepad in hand.
He glances all around to see if Caroline is already here, but there’s no trace of her. There’s a digital clock behind the counter blinking 4:17 on it. He was at the restaurant on time but now he’s here early. The type of panic that had welled up in his chest takes on a new shape; what if Caroline stands him up?
“Uh, I’ll just sit over here until my friend gets here,” he replies slowly, obviously uncomfortable speaking to her.
She grins and offers to grab him something to drink while he waits. Accepting the offer, he requests lemonade and waits patiently with his phone on the table in front of him. Every few seconds he taps his screen back up, tracking each passing minute that Caroline isn’t there with him.
When 4:30 rolls around, she’s still not there and he’s really starting to question whether she’s coming at all. No text has come through saying that she’s running late, and no warning that she’s not going to make it either. He has a drafted message tapped out asking, is everything okay, but he can’t bring himself to send it. What if he sounds desperate? What it comes off as meaning something more when he really just wants to know if she’s coming or not?
As his finger hovers over the send button, so close to actually pressing it and sending his words into space for transmission, the door chimes that outdated chime again. Whipping around, he sees Caroline.
Well, he sees a new version of Caroline. Today she’s wearing a fancy black dress with white tights and boots. Her blonde and green hair is pulled back into a high bun, a few strands curled because they couldn’t reach all the way up. Santiago can hardly believe it’s the same suspenders wearing girl he met just one week ago. “Sorry I’m late,” she groans. In no time at all, she slouches into the booth.
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was supposed to dress up,” he retorts, gesturing to his faded black jeans and a wrinkled plaid shirt. Next to her, surely he looks just about as careless as one could. It makes her smile, though, which makes him feel less insecure. Maybe he looks like he just rolled out of bed but at least he’s able to make her happy.
The server returns, a drink in hand already and gives it to Caroline. “I come here a lot. They were expecting me today, actually.”
Apparently she had a work lunch that she had to attend, and it’s a bit of a dress-up thing, so she was there from twelve to two, and then she had a lecture at two-thirty, so she didn’t have any time to change. Then, as he already knew, she ran into traffic. “Driving in this city really blows.”
“I wouldn’t know, I don’t drive if I don’t have to,” Santiago admits. He wanted to live on campus so he didn’t have to worry about the maintenance and cost of having his own vehicle. Besides that, his parents carpooled to work but insisted on having a second car in case of an emergency, so he usually just borrows – no, borrowed – his mother’s Prius if he needs – needed – to go anywhere.
A tone of surprise and amusement mingle in Caroline’s tone. “I don’t blame you. It takes so much out of me to drive across town sometimes. That’s why I usually stay on campus all day so I don’t have to keep driving back and forth.”
Their conversation comes to an end naturally. However, the server comes to take their order at exactly the same time. She orders chicken and waffles, which somehow seems very much like her, in Santiago’s opinion. As for himself, he opts for the French onion soup, craving something warm.
“So… Grief Group?”
Her brow arches. “What about it?”
“How do you feel about it?” Santiago asks more clearly this time.
It doesn’t seem to give her very much clarity, however. “Like, do I like it?”
Instead of dancing around the thing that’s been bothering him, he asks how she feels about Hannah. She is aggressive and rude, and she tried to take a dig at Caroline, which Santiago didn’t really appreciate.
Laughing it off, though, Caroline goes on to explain that she doesn’t really think Hannah is as rough as she tries to act. Everyone is in Grief Group for a reason, and if she’s required to be there, it must be a serious issue. “I’m not worried about Hannah, not like that at least. I can handle myself just fine and I hope you’ll let me do it next time.”
Familiar silence tries to join them at the table but he can’t shake the idea that he should have apologized straight away, so he does. It isn’t what she wanted, she says, but she accepts it just the same. She insists that she knew he meant well. Being a good partner is sticking up for the other person when they’re being picked on and being there to defend them whenever.
“My grandma always said that the best people were the ones that you didn’t have to ask to be there for you.” Her fingers begin picking at the paper wrapping around her silverware and napkin. The decision to share something personal like this is hard. Santiago still hasn’t talked about his parents in great detail to anyone. In fact, about the only thing he’s told others is that they died in a car wreck. Sharing this with him is special. He likes this feeling of being trusted with someone’s hurt, and he hadn’t expected that to happen.
Unsure what to say or do, Santiago lifts his glass. “We should toast to such good advice.”
Blushing, Caroline agrees. Their glasses are hovering over the empty table, words slowly coming through from his mind to his lips. “To a grandma’s grand advice.”
“To a grandma’s grand advice,” she mutters, angling her glass without tilting it. It is confusing because he is tilting his glass, thinking more that they would ‘tink’ their cups together rather than ‘clunk’ them.
Before he can make an adjustment, his glass is sliding against her cup. A bit of his lemonade sloshes out and his reaction to it only causes him to bump her drink, resulting in an even bigger spill. Soda floods off the table all over her stomach and lap. Santiago feels his cheeks burning in shame.
Caroline isn’t swearing or frowning. Her lips are in a lazy, flat line and her brows are barely even arched. Either shock hasn’t set in or she’s not really surprised. She simply scoots out of the booth and shakes the droplets of liquid off of her dress. “Well, that was unfortunate.”
“I’m so sorry,” Santiago grumbles, embarrassed at his clumsiness. “Please let me get you something else. I saw a clothing shop right around the corner. Surely we can find something to make it through dinner.”
Shrugging her shoulders, “Sure,” she says, and then calls for the servers to clean their table. At this time she tells them that she needs to get a change of clothes but that they’re coming back for the food they ordered. Santiago hands the server a fifty-dollar bill to ensure that they’ll return.
Their walk to the store is thick with an awkward silence so painful that Santiago fakes a cough to try to start a conversation. Caroline’s head hangs low, only looking up to follow him, and ignores his social plea for chit chat, no matter how idle or insignificant. It isn’t until they actually get to the store and step through the doors that either of them says anything.
“To be fair, I wasn’t paying close attention to what kind of shop it was,” he remarks nervously. The shop is more of a thrift store with all kinds of odds and ends from decades of fashion trends just piled onto tables and stuffed onto racks that fill every square inch of the store.
Even the cashier that’s available has to roll up onto her toes to wave and welcome them. Caroline is enthusiastic and waves back with a massive grin.
Then she nudges Santiago in the side with her elbow. “This is actually great. I’ve passed this place a dozen times but didn’t even notice it. I’m only going to need a couple of minutes, okay?”
Nodding, Santiago makes his way to the counter where he fiddles with the various pieces of jewelry. There’s a necklace hanging behind the counter that has a massive clock hanging on a chain sized more for a bike lock than a piece of jewelry. There are earrings that just click onto the lobe on small cards nicely placed in rows. Even without being told that this stuff is old stuff that was popular some time ago, Santiago can tell. Everything has a tired appearance to it, bordering on ‘worn out,’ and the patterns are dated.
“Shopping with your girlfriend?” the cashier asks, grinning and bustling around behind the corner folding clothes and putting price tags where they belong. It’s kind of mesmerizing watching her work in a steady rhythm, and it nearly causes him to miss her question.
Santiago stiffens. “Girlfriend? Caroline? She’s not my girlfriend,” he corrects, taken aback completely by her assumption.
“OH!” She exclaims. “I’m so sorry, she must be your sister then. I can’t believe I did that, how gross.”
Correcting her again, Santiago leaves no uncertainties about who Caroline is in relation to him. “She’s my friend from counseling and we were having dinner tonight to relax from the week.”
“Sounds like a pre-dating date to me,” she comments, inserting her opinions without Santiago’s request. In fact, she drones on and on about how fun it is to be in that ‘almost dating’ phase of a relationship. She describes it as exciting, exhilarating, and at least a dozen other ‘e’ words that make it sounds like it’s just the best thing a person could do. Only two thoughts float around in Santiago’s head: one, this person clearly has some commitment issues, and two, this person has some boundary issues. He never asked for her input or opinion.
He’s incredibly glad when Caroline comes over with wearing a rainbow sequin dress that looks more or less exactly like an oversized t-shirt. There’s a large slit up either side of her dress, too, which then makes it seem like a really fancy nightgown. Santiago doesn’t know what to think of it, but he’s just glad to pay for it and move on. They leave the second he has the change in his hand.
Returning to Angelina’s is less awkward, even if equally as quiet. The biggest difference is in the way that Caroline walks. She is obviously more comfortable and moves with a looseness that she hadn’t before – arms swaying, a small bounce when dodging oncoming pedestrians. Santiago feels himself relaxing at the sight of her back to her peppier self.
It makes it easier to find his voice this time. He starts by asking if the dress is more comfortable than she looks, which makes her laugh. It’s soft on the inside, apparently, and thicker than she had expected. “I’ll probably sleep in this, honestly.”
“Cool,” he chimes, again unsure how to reply.
Once inside Angelina’s again, their food is ready. Caroline makes short work of her chicken and waffles, talking about how much she loves the food and can’t wait to get home and tucked away in bed. Between working at the café for extra cash and the homework assignments she’s got to do for school, she’s feeling burnt out. Santiago listens to her talking, nods along when appropriate, and really just enjoys her company – and his soup. The French onion soup is really good.
“Sometimes I expect her to call me,” she declares unexpectedly. After the fact, he realizes that her phone has buzzed a few times while she’s been talking. He glances down but she flips the phone over and pushes it away. He tries to tell her that he’s not snooping, but she talks over him. “My grandma was a real good lady. She had to have been the sweetest woman in the whole world, but she spent her time watching murder mysteries and CSI type shows.”
“She sounds like she was really fun to be around.”
Caroline laughs. “That old broad was a flirt to boot and in so much debt it’s not even funny. She was a walking-talking tragedy but damn it, she had a good time. Sometimes I’m not even convinced that she’s actually dead. If I really get to thinking about it, I think she probably faked her death and hightailed it to some cushy retirement home in Florida,” her voice is somber, maybe even hopeful, while she’s telling Santiago about her late grandmother. Despite how crazy it sounds, he can relate.
And instead of just listening this time, he sympathizes with her. “I know what you mean. I check my phone for text messages from my parents. I keep waiting for them to ask if I want to come home for tapas or if I’d like to go to the movies.”
“Would you like a ride home?”
“Yeah,” he hums.
“Good,” she smiles. “But I’m not going to walk you to your door or anything like that, got it?”
Of course, he wouldn’t expect such a thing from her, or anyone for that matter. Santiago is probably a total mess and incapable of taking care of his mental health, but he is not broken completely. He can walk himself to his own dorm. He’s beginning to enjoy the fact that Caroline doesn’t treat him like cracked glass.
As they are crawling into the car, Caroline places her phone in the cup holder on the passenger side. Her silver Malibu is far more spacious than his mother’s Prius. It isn’t as stuffy either, which actually makes Santiago a bit more comfortable. He leans all the back in his seat and lets his head roll back against the cushion.
Caroline turns the radio on but it’s so soft that none of the music can be made out clearly. Initially, he wonders if she expects him to be talking to her or starting another conversation. Then he asks himself what he would even say at this point? Thanks for opening up? Thanks for not abandoning him after he doused her in lemonade and soda? Thanks for the ride?
He settles on the latter. “I kind of owe you for the Uber ride from last week,” she replies passively. Caroline’s focus on the road is strong and nearly unwavering. She does sideways glance when her phone goes off. “Can you check that, please? Just tell me who it is.”
Nervously, he fumbles around the device. Santiago presses the home button with his thumb to light the screen up. The name says ‘Casper,’ which is the first curious thing about the message. He asks about it.
“That’s my ex,” she offers. Following a brief pause, she goes on to explain that they had been dating for a couple of years in high school but he stopped talking to her out of nowhere when he graduated a year ahead of her. The story is quick and it leaves him with more questions than answers, but he knows that there will be time for those questions someday. For now, though, the only thing that matters to him is what the message actually says. “I don’t know what more he could want to say – he’s been bothering me all day.”
Santiago locks her phone again and puts it down. He could tell her that Casper, the Ex, was just wishing her well on her birthday, which is strange since they live together. Still, he doesn’t say anything about it. If he is honest with himself, he just wants to process the significance of Caroline wanting to have dinner with him on her birthday. That’s a big deal, he thinks, at least it would be to him, and he’s not entirely sure how to feel about it.
Although, he has to ask her one question, “Is his name really Casper?”
“Nope.”
“Do I want to know?” he follows her answer with another question.
Caroline has to explain the reference, which makes it less funny, he’s sure. However, she can’t stop giggling as she recounts the fact that he stopped talking to her and ignored every attempt to contact him. At the time, she didn’t know what that was called, but after she complained about it on Tumblr, she came to know that he’d ‘ghosted’ her. The term sounds made up, which Santiago tells her.
“That’s because it is – that’s the wonderful thing about the Internet. It’s a whole culture with its own jargon and everything.”
Slowing to a halt in the parking lot just outside of the Friedman dorms, Caroline turns to look at him with a wide smile. “This is your stop,” she says calmly. Santiago finds himself tugging at the edge of his sleeve and hesitating before placing his hand on the door handle.
Getting out of the car without saying ‘happy birthday’ to Caroline seems wrong. Yet, Santiago doesn’t know what to do with his voice when he says it. Does he sound cheerful or excited? Should he say it flatly without personality? How about asking how her birthday was instead? There are so many ways to acknowledge the importance of this day, each probably garnering various pros and cons. But which way is the best way?
Then, all at once, he blurts it out instead.
“HappybirthdayCaroline,” it comes out like a string of half-whispered, half-strangled noises. Santiago doesn’t want to wait for her response to his embarrassing effort to be thoughtful. More than anything, he’s coming across as weird. A few seconds later, he’s emerging from the vehicle and speeding off towards his dorm room.
Why is he like this? Santiago doesn’t really have anxiety or anything; he’s just really bad at socializing normally with other people. Things seemed a little easier with Caroline, but he didn’t credit himself with that in any way. She’s so outgoing and confident that interacting with other people is inevitably easy.
Caroline definitely doesn’t worry about the way she says ‘happy birthday’ to someone else.
“That’s not how that works,” she shouts from behind him somewhere. He would’ve thought she was in her car but it was closer than that. Santiago wonders if she got out to talk to him. That curiosity dies quickly when she grabs his arm and jerks him around to face her. “You’re supposed to hug your friends when you wish them a happy birthday. It’s basically a rule!”
Before he can lift his arms, hers are wrapping hard around him. The hug is warm despite the fall breeze. It gives him something he didn’t realize that he was missing. Melting into her embrace, Santiago lets his cheek rest against the top of her head. “Did she take you there for your birthday dinner?”
“Chicken and waffles every year,” she mutters, tears obviously burning her throat. Santiago considers inviting her inside so she doesn’t have to leave and be alone, but he fears how it might look, so he just holds his tongue.
As it turns out, it’s for the best, because Caroline begins speaking again. “I’ve been dreading today for a couple of weeks now. There are no words for how thankful I am for your company tonight. I haven’t been to Angelina’s since she died – wasn’t even sure if I could walk through the doors.”
Santiago wants to smile but feels tears welling up in his own eyes instead. Grief punches him in the gut hard, leaving him speechless and breathless at the pain of their respective losses. After deciding that he’s in no rush to be anywhere, he relaxes against her as she cries softly. “Thank you for letting me be there today.”
Caroline manages to chuckle against his chest. “Thank you for being there, Santiago. It meant a lot to me.”
Time to read the next chapter!
~..:: Acknowledgements ::..~
Just like last week, I want to give a huge shout out to my editor: ouranose! She not only was willing to read and cheerlead me through this story, but she read it in the last hour before I posted it because she’s a total champion!
My family has been incredibly supportive and kind after the premiere post last week, and even after my first transcript story posted on Monday. I cannot thank them enough for believing that I can pursue that path in my life.
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