Totem (8 page)

              “So where are you taking me?”

              “To O’Henry’s. It’s casual and we can sit outside in plastic chairs where our sweat will not be a problem.” He winks at me as he hops out of the car.

              I wait a few seconds to see what he will do. Just as I hoped, he walks around and opens my door for me.

              “Wait one second,” he says as I begin to get out.

              He places one hand on my knee to stop me from exiting then uses his other hand to roll up my window. My heart begins to race. Once again, as if he knows my heart has picked up speed, Ty smiles. As soon as he is done, he opens the door wider holding out his hand to help me out.

             
O’Henry’s is a perfect place
to eat when you’re a hot mess because they have their own hot mess. Each table has a basket of peanuts and customers carelessly throw peanut shells on their table and floor. Even the customers attempting to keep it clean were thwarted when a gust of wind swept through sending peanut shells flying everywhere.  Little birds watch diligently from the trees swooping in with the wind to catch peanuts not yet eaten. Oak trees wisp back and forth in the breeze as the street cars rattle by. Down below, people move leisurely around from shop to shop then to restaurant. To complete the scene is a man sitting across from me who makes my heart feel like it is about to pop right out of my chest. It is relaxing yet nerve wracking all at the same time.

              “What’s good on the menu?” I ask as I stare down at all of the choices. “Fried pickles?! What does that taste like?”

              “Wanna find out?”

              He smiles up at me from the menu resting in his hands. His eye lashes obscure his vison of me. What I really want to do at this moment is find out what his lips taste like.

              “Absolutely,” I say with a smile radiating back at him unsure if I am answering the pickle question or my own personal question.

              When the waitress came, Ty and I order.  Our glasses of water and fried pickles came out first. I taste my first ever fried pickle and it is not too bad. It is actually very good to my surprise. Two things that probably should not go together but when you taste them, you think they always belong together. Dip it in the sauce and it’s perfect.

              The fans mixed with our light attire make the outside heat bearable. The company I keep makes it even more enjoyable. While we wait on our food, we talk about anything and everything we could think of.

              “There have been a lot of hurricanes this year,” I state making small talk.

              “Yea, poor Florida. Two thousand four is not the year for them,” replies Ty.

              “Have you been through a hurricane?”

              “I was here during hurricane Andrew. It did a lot of damage, but we got through it. When you live down here, you kind of expect getting hit by hurricanes every once and a while. Some people even throw hurricane parties.”

              “Hurricane parties?”

              “Yea, they go to one person’s house to hang out during the storm and drink hurricanes.”

              “That seems…irresponsible.”

              “Yea,” replies Ty.

              “I mean it’s cool, but what happens if there is a real hurricane that goes through and then you have all these people stuck in a house with just… well with just alcohol?”

              “Yep, I agree with you,” replies Ty, “but it is their choice to make.”

              “True.”

              I look around at the trees as the wind passes through them. I take in a big whiff of the air. The distinct smell of New Orleans fills my lungs. It is a mixture of smells. It’s the good food cooking around us peppered with the allure of nature and the salty murky smell of the Mississippi River that intertwines inside me. It is so distinct and in its own way so comforting.

I think back on the first time I stepped foot in this town and smile. I knew I would fall in love with this city. I just did not know I would fall so quickly. My smile grows even larger for no particular reason at all but for the mere reason that I am happy.

              “What are you smiling about?”

              I look at Ty. He is sitting upright in his seat. An inquisitive look in his eyes gives softness to his hard sculpted face. He smiles coercing me to express my feelings.

              “Can I be cheesy for a moment?” I lean across the table.

              “I like cheese.” laughs Ty.

              “Five months ago I was walking across a stage in Pennsylvania with 400 other people.  We all had no idea what to expect for our future as we grabbed our high school diploma. All I knew was that I was going to New Orleans because I got a scholarship and knew it was the right choice for me. I didn’t know how true that was until I got here. Never did I imagine I would be sitting up on a balcony a block away from the Mississippi eating fried pickles and watching the street cars pass underneath the leaves of old oak trees. I just feel…”

              “Complete,” finishes Ty.

              “Yea,” I smile, “complete is the perfect word. I just feel that this is exciting and new and just completely right for me.”

              “That’s how I felt about the city as well. I have always felt that way which is why I settled down here and set up shop.”

              Settled down was a word I related to someone older. I didn’t expect it to come out of someone my age, but I knew how he felt. I could see myself living here forever.

              The streets of New Orleans swirl like no other city. It is such a mix of sights and smells that brings you comfort and makes you feel at home. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I exhale slowly feeling every inch of my skin getting hit by the warm, humid breeze lazily making its way across the deck. I soak in the moment.

              My peaceful moment is finally disturbed in a pleasant way. As my eyes stay closed, Ty unexpectedly moves his hand over mine. I keep my eyes closed as my heart begins beating faster. As if feeling the change in my heart beat, Ty quickly removes his hand. I open my eyes. He gives me an awkward smile before looking at the empty peanut basket.

              These are one of those moments I always want growing up. I decided early on in high school that boys were to be nothing more than extracurricular activity. They fell well behind soccer, track and school. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to date. I just never found the right one. It is way too early for me to decide if Ty is the right one. My only thoughts are stuck in this moment. Where all I want to do is to reach out and touch the guy who grabs my attention.

              “So you heard what I said to Michelle,” I state trying to make small talk and stop myself from reaching over and touching Ty.

              “Yea,” replies Ty. “I just thought it was nice… in a harsh way.”

              “Is that why you asked me to lunch?”

              “One of the reasons,” replies Ty with a sly smile.

              My cheeks begin to blush as Ty’s eyes drill into me. I have no idea what his intentions are. Looking into his eyes gave me no answers.

              “The way you look out for Michelle is endearing. It makes me think that here is somebody worth getting to know because if she values and treats friends with honesty and truth then she must be a person worth while. Plus you are attractive.”

              He finds me attractive! I feel my heart race as I repeat the words over and over again in my mind.

              “So you thought what I told Michelle was true? You know about Daniel.”

              “Yes,” replies Ty taking a sip of water.

              “So you think she should just ignore Daniel from now on?”

              “I wouldn’t say that,” replies Ty. He pauses for quite some time before continuing. “Guys my age don’t think the way girls do about the passage of time. Often they live in the here and now. As they do that, they lose track of how much time actually passes. I think Daniel has just lost track of time. From what you said, I surmise he is busy in what is going on in his life.”

              “So you think Michelle should wait for him?” I ask

              “No,” replies Ty. “She should do whatever makes her happy. She should not ponder on what isn’t but rather live for what is happening. Kind of like Daniel, then if it is meant to be, it will be.”

              I understood completely what Ty is saying. He is very perceptive for his age. I take a drink of water milling over his words as I watch another streetcar make its way down Carrolton. The waitress brings our food. It is my first shrimp Po Boy in New Orleans. One thing that everyone should try when they go to New Orleans is a shrimp Po Boy. It is fried shrimp on French bread topped with all the fixings. It is an incredible. I quickly learn though that it is not one of the foods you should get when trying to impress a guy. The French bread is hard to bite into and globs of shrimp immediately explode out of their encasement. I try my best to be lady-like, but the more I bite in to the sandwich, the harder it becomes. Fried shrimp flies off my plate as the sauces drip down my hand. 

              In situations like these, the best thing to do is laugh about it. However, I am with a guy I am trying to impress. I take a few more bites of the sandwich before laying it on my plate. I will get a to-go box and take it home to finish it in the privacy of my own room. Ty notices my struggle and smiles.

              “They tend to be messy,” he states digging into his creole pasta.

              “Yea, but so worth it,” I reply. “I figured since we were already sweaty from class why not add on to it.”

              We both laugh.

              Oh the heck with it! I think. If me eating a Po Boy is a deal breaker then let it be.

              “I honestly didn’t know it was going to be this messy,” I state.

              “I think it looks good on you,” replies Ty as he reaches over with a napkin and wipes some sauce off of my chin.

              The movement should have caught me by surprise. Instead I find my inward self-reaching out to greet Ty’s hand. Loving every moment of it, I lean my chin forward into his touch. As if surprised by my physical reaction, he quickly looks up into my eyes, smiles awkwardly then stops. A little nervous, I go back to eating my sandwich. The meal turns out to be more than enough for me. I place the leftover half of it in the to-go container as the waitress leaves the check on the table. Ty reaches for the check first as I grab the wallet out of my bag to pay my share.

              “I got it,” states Ty in response to me pulling out my wallet.

              “Are you sure?”

              “I’m the one who asked you out,” smirks Ty. “I got it.”

              “Thank you,” I state with a smile.

              I left the restaurant feeling stuffed and satiated. That mixed with the butterflies in my stomach caused by Ty was almost unbearable. I watch as a street car full of people passes by us. The tiny bell sounds as it crosses streets.

              “Do you want to go on that now?” asks Ty

              I look up at him. He looks down at me with a bemused smile. In his eyes is an endearing quality that I have not seen from Ty before. I look at my phone. The time is 1:15 and I am due for a class in forty five minutes.

              “I have to get to class,” I reply.

              “Some other time then,” states Ty.

              Unexpectedly, he grabs my hand and we walk to his green bronco. Effortlessly with his other hand, he grabs the keys out of his pocket and opens my door. I smile at him as I hop in. He smiles back and closes the door behind me. I watch as he walks in front of the car. I lean over and unlock his door so he won’t have to do it himself. Ty smiles at my gesture as he hops into the car.

              “Do you like music?” asks Ty as he turns on the truck.

              “Yea,” I reply.

              Ty turns on the radio and signals for me to find a station. The outdated turn nobs remind me of my grandfather’s old truck. I turn them carelessly looking for a station as Ty pulls out of the parking lot.

              “What type of music do you like?” I ask Ty.

              “I listen to all kinds,” replies Ty.

              “Country?” I ask as the blaring twang goes through the radio.

              “Yes,” replies Ty.

              “Rap?” I stumble upon the rap station as I ask the question.

              “I think pretty much everybody has to like some rap if they live in New Orleans,” replies Ty.

              I left the dial on the rap the station and lean back in my seat.

              “What about classic rock?” I ask

              “I am a fan of Journey. I also like Queen,” replies Ty.

              “My dad likes Journey,” I reply, “and I have always been a fan of Queen.”

              “Your dad has good taste.” Ty smiles back at me.