30. Chapter 30 #3
Thankfully, the line inched forward. The surrounding chatter filtered in and out of my ears as we crossed the threshold into the shop.
An oversized chandler was behind the counter and the walls and floor were bright yellow.
The ice cream shop screamed Spanish tourist trap like the inside of an Applebee’s.
“Do you think your book could be in a bookstore someday?” he asked unexpectedly.
I blanched. “Jesus, going straight for the jugular.”
He shrugged.
Distraction. He needs the distraction.
“…I just don’t know. I don’t think I’m any good at writing. Writing a book, editing, and getting it published is a lot of work. And besides, I don’t really know anything about publishing.”
“You can learn.”
My face scrunched. “I finished college. I think I’ve learned enough.”
He nudged my shoulder. “You can, Poppy. I wasn’t born learning how to play the guitar. I taught myself how to play by deciphering chords, replaying records nonstop until my parents and siblings wanted to strangle me.”
I laughed. I’d heard Summoner tell that anecdote before on some interview.
But in person, the story took on a new life, colored in primary colors.
Part of me hated that there was so much about him I already knew.
I wanted to scrub my knowledge of his life and career from my brain just so I could get the jolt of serotonin from hearing about him in person.
I squeezed his hand. He smiled at me. A slice of personal sunshine. I knew I needed to believe in myself, but having a man with his wealth of experience believing in me gave me a much-needed boost toward doing it for myself.
Vanilla bean for him and chocolate banana for me.
We carried our cups down the sidewalk until we found a table away from the crowds.
I plopped down in the chair and quickly shoved the little spoon into my mouth.
Sighing, I sank into my seat. Across the table, Summoner laughed.
The ice cream was heavenly. I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture like every vacationing millennial and boomer.
“So…” My phone suddenly felt heavy in my hand. “I was wondering if you’d be okay taking a picture?”
Summoner dragged his spoon from his mouth.
“I won’t show it to anyone. I just want it for me.”
His cheeks pinkened.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” I blurted out.
“Can we finish first?”
I placed my phone on the table. My thighs pressed together hopelessly as I watched Summoner’s tongue darted out of his mouth to lick up drops of vanilla. He seemed relaxed. No sharp scribbles of anxiety around him. These brief moments together were everything to me.
“…So, Poppy.” He tapped his spoon on his bottom lip. “Do you remember when you first felt depressed?”
I blinked. The question seemed out of the blue. We had seen each other at our worst. Watched the bleakness of our own brains attempt to destroy us as a feature, not a bug. The depths weren’t a place I wanted the man I loved to see any more than he had to. I shifted in my seat.
“…Mmmm, I think I always felt a sense of general melancholy. Like I remember being little and just being overwhelmed by these emotions that I didn’t have words for. And because I couldn’t explain how I was feeling, I felt worse.”
“Of course, of course.”
“What about you?” I shoved another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth.
His spoon hung out of his mouth as he spoke. “Like you, I recall a general sadness and a constant feeling of worry. I often wondered what had more of an impact, my upbringing or my environment.”
“You grew up in a dreary town in northern England, and your parents fought all the time…I think it was both.”
“I was 9 when I had my first panic attack. Thought I was fucking dying! And you know what my dad did?”
I shook my head.
“He spanked me, then he grounded me! According to him, I must have been up to no good!”
I laughed.
“I’m still pissed about that.” He stabbed his ice cream.
“Parents just don’t understand.” I hummed.
“Speaking of parents, is there anything I should know about your dad?”
I hadn’t forgotten he wanted to meet Dad. I found it more convenient to push the thought to the very back of my mind.
“…Not really. He loves music and conspiracy theories. You’re his favorite of both things and I think meeting you is gonna make him explode. Oh! He also wants to punch you in the face, but I told him he couldn’t.”
His eyes widened. “Why my face?”
“You’re deflowering his only daughter. As a father, you should understand the dilemma.”
He slumped back. “Shit.”
I laughed. Future awkward meeting-the-parents aside, we sat quietly and finished our ice cream. I licked dried chocolate off my thumb as we tossed our cups into the trash.
“Hurry up before I change my mind,” he said softly.
“What?”
“Picture.”
Oh!
I quickly pulled out my phone and stepped in close. He placed an arm over my shoulders and blankly stared at my phone. Just as I took the photo, he kissed my cheek. His face was scrunched, and his lips still cold. My smile was off-center and unhinged. We looked ridiculous.
It was perfect.