Half-Forgotten

He wanted her.

Any fool could see that longing look in his eye. Any fellow men would understand the desperate keening he felt for her. Women might pity him, a large man with an Irish face. His knobby nose stood out, ruining almost any pictures of him. He'd tried online dating; as usual, it went nowhere.

This girl seemed different.

He liked her silly 'hu hu hu' laugh. High-pitched, but still likeable. He liked her long blond hair – which was funny, normally he avoided blondes. Hers was natural, a kind of ashen honey color. He lacked the vocabulary to properly express his adoration of her long locks. She had a sweet face, and a nasty sense of humor. It was like being told dick jokes by a pixie. Sometimes he dreamt of her, sprouting wings, and visiting him atop a castle; in those dreams, he was a fearless knight, beplagued by demons and werewolves. She was a sweet fairy, coming by to offer him healing spells, and encouraging words.

Looking over at her, across the shoe store, he smiled internally. Silly dreams.

She stood at the check-out, passing things through the beeper. He was in the back, repairing an old cowboy boot. He wasn't good at it, but, as far as a trade goes, it was a good one to get in to. Mostly, DJ had him do polishes, and stains. Today, he was doing a little stitching, watching his needle carefully, trying to keep things even. The looping thread was neat, but not very nice looking.

She toyed with her hair, the customer gone. She looked a little forlorn. He wondered why, his imagination wandering as well. He momentarily drifted in to wondering what kind of nipples she had – small, dark, pointy?

He smelled like shoe polish. That irked him. He didn't like the smell of the store's brand of choice. He liked the cheap crap in grocery stores better. He mused that the girl prolly wouldn't like the smell of either, seeing as she prolly put effort in to selecting a perfume before going out. He huffed his hand, grimacing. Wiping the hand on his apron, he clapped for good measure, reminding himself to put the cowboy boot aside for DJ to look over.

He had a stupid song stuck in his head. He thought it was prolly the Beatles. He wondered if the girl liked the Beatles, or if she was more a shitty-rave music type gal. Judging from her nouveau-chic clothes, he was guessing more indie/obscure. Prolly goofy stuff like Neko Case; his sister was in to that hippie-dippy stuff. His mind skipped around, creating split-second slideshow images. Girl plus him. Girl with sister on couch, laughing. Birthdays. Christmas with Grandpa Frank.

Her eyes flitted his way. He almost shit himself, startled.

She smiled, seeming to recognize his reaction. He gave her a little fruity wave, sashaying his apron. A little worried, he suddenly wondered if this would make her think he was gay.

She strolled his way, bobbing through the aisles. There was something alluring about that pivoting gait.

"You know, Johnny, you can come out of there, once in a while, and say hi." Jesus. Even her voice sounded awesome. "Awesome" – almost too common for that sensation. Listening to that mild sentence was more sexually appealing than any of his "sexy" porn. Forget coked up whores lapping up cunt-juices off of a dildo. Just let this girl talk to me.

"Yup. Lana, what time do you get off today?"

"You mean, when do Mr. Magic and I meet up?" Mr. Magic was the name of her dildo. "I'd say.. around bedtime."

His lips parted in a lopsided smile. "No, I mean, from work." He almost balked, internally, suddenly realizing that this lead-up to a coffee date would prolly not succeed. Aw, fuuuuuuuuck. Fu-fu-fuckity.

She looked over his face, her eyes ticking across and back like a busy metronome. "You didn't hear, did you."

Breath whistled inward sharply. He thought quickly, coming up with the first plausible answer. "That guy who visits you.. you're dating him?"

She laughed, that special 'hu hu hu' laugh of hers. He was delighted and apprehensive at the same time.

"No, no, silly; that's my brother."

She paused.. for dramatic effect? He couldn't tell.

"I'm a lesbian," she announced, spreading her arms wide, before slapping a thigh.

He stood there, blank for a moment. "Well. You still wanna go for coffee?"

She chuckled, a little quieter this time. "Who said anything about coffee? Fuck, man – let's go grab a beer!"

His smile settled in to place before he felt the full effect of his heart sinking. "Awwright," he said, just as exuberantly as her announcement. "Fuckin' A."