Page 19 of Finding Parker

“It’s not any of those things. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that,” I paused and tried to think of something to say that would satisfy us both.

“It’s just that I, well, I’m different. I desire certain things in a woman, and you don’t possess the qualities I require. To continue wouldn’t be fair to you or to me either one,” as I finished speaking, I realized I hadn’t really offered much explanation.

“How would you know I don’t have what you want? We spent one night together. One. Give me some time,” she pleaded, her eyes glistening from the tears that began to well.

“Time won’t change anything. I like you Katelyn. It’s simply that, well…” I hesitated, realizing this wasn’t going as easily as I expected it to.

“There’s not a future in us continuing to see each other on a romantic level.” I said, my voice trailing to an almost whisper.

Satisfied, I exhaled and picked my cup of coffee up from the table.

It was immediately apparent Katelyn had no intent on continuing to attempt anything with me, romantic or otherwise. I had, for whatever reason, become something she found tasteless; and she began to spit me out.

“No future on a romantic level? Romantic? Fucking fine. Just fine,” she barked as she stood from her chair.

“I bet if you fucked me you’d be singing a different song, you rich little prick. You’d be begging me to stay. You don’t know what you’re missing you fucking douche,” she snapped.

Immediately Katelyn turned, walked toward the stairs, and stopped as she gripped the handrail. Standing there, the handrail in one hand and her purse in the other, she turned to face me. Over her left shoulder she stared my direction, as if there was something else she wished to say, but was incapable. Her lip quivered.

And she began to softly cry.

The part of me that felt at least a portion of what she was feeling wanted to stand and comfort her. The sensible part of me told me to remain seated and look through her and not directly at her. As I peered over her shoulder at the light fixtures suspended from the ceiling, I watched her blurry silhouette slowly turn and walk down the stairs.

As I noticed the frame of the front door open and close against the glass storefront, I allowed my eyes to become focused again. Quite some time had passed since Katelyn and I had begun our conversation, and it appeared several people had joined us on the upper platform of the bookstore.

And, seated at the table beside the stairs, where I had stationed myself a few days before, was Victoria – the girl who reportedly doesn’t like people – and talks to no one. Sitting there, amongst an equally tall pile of magazines and a few books, she looked the same as she did the first day I saw her.

Beautiful.

Yet.

Her physical beauty wasn’t her most attractive quality, at least not at this point. Something about her being a bit of a recluse, not talking to anyone, and not liking people made her very interesting to me. It wasn’t that these things made her more attractive, because they really didn’t. They did, however, create wonder on my part. Not knowing who she was and why she chose to be alone made her far more intriguing of a person. This intrigue caused me to stare.

The stare allowed me to become mentally lost in wonder.

And, as I become mentally lost, I began to relax.

Lost in thoughts of Victoria and now in a blissful state of relaxation, I felt something heavy slipping from my right hand.

“Oh shit!” I howled as the coffee cup fell from my hand and bounced on the table top.

As fate would have it, the cup bounced, landing on its side. As it landed, the lid snapped from the top. Immediately, I found out how much of a mess a few ounces of coffee make on a clean table. Frantic, I scanned the upper floor, unsuccessfully, for a condiment bar. With all eyes trained on me – no doubt from my choice to scream expletives in a quiet bookstore – I cupped my hands around the edge of the spill. Looking down at the caramel colored ocean, I took a deep breath and looked up slowly.

Victoria.

“Here, let me help,” she smiled as she dropped a handful of paper napkins into the middle of the spill.

“Thank you,” I sighed.

Sweeping the napkins in a circular motion, I quickly cleaned the mess from the table. Victoria followed behind me as I picked the pile of wet napkins up, wiping the table further with a rag.

“I didn’t see a condiment station up here,” I said as I stood from my chair.

“There isn’t one. I ran downstairs and got these. What happened?” she asked.

“I knocked my cup of coffee over. Not paying attention, I guess,” I shook my head slightly from side to side and stepped toward the trash can.

“It looked to me like you just dropped it,” she chuckled.