Abigail
The tackle shop sells cake. Or at least they sell cake mix. I peruse the aisles slowly, taking in the eclectic mix of products from one side of the shop to the other. On the left, they sell all-and-sundry goods, meaning anything you might need to buy on the fly, like toilet paper, bread, peanut butter, sardines—though all the sardine cans are dusty because not that many people like to eat tiny fish that can look you in the eye as you eat them—and fruits and vegetables in cans. On the right, there are life jackets, fishing rods, tackle, and anything you might need while camping.
So I’m really surprised when I find cake mix. And candles. I toss both into the little red plastic basket that’s hanging over my arm. Then I also get a tube of frosting, and a can of frosting, because…well…frosting. Then as I walk through the aisles, I see a novelty t-shirt that says: my duck is bigger than your duck! He needs that shirt.
I’ve seen him walking through the complex with his little duck following along behind him. It’s a-freakin’-dorable and I’ve wanted more than once to go over and ask him if I can pet it. But he’s avoiding me. He knows he’s avoiding me. I’m aware that he’s avoiding me. Now everyone is aware that he’s avoiding me, so I feel like it’s best to let him do his thing.
But I can’t do that today, because today is his birthday. I know it’s his birthday because his birthday is on the same day of the month as mine, but it falls one month before. He spent a full thirty days teasing me about being a baby, when he was thirteen for a whole month while I still had to be twelve.
I don’t know if he has plans for his birthday, but I do know that I’m not going to let it go by with no one the wiser. I’m going to make him a cake, and I’m going to deliver it to him with a poorly sung song, and he’s going to smile at me, and then he’s going to blush, and I’m going to love every second of his discomfort.
I go to pay for my purchases, and the guy at the counter stares at me hard. I look down at myself to be sure there’s no huge stain on me from breakfast, but I’m clean. “What?”
He smiles and leans his torso on the counter, resting on his elbows. “You’re not from around here,” he says.
I smile back. “You don’t remember me, do you?” I lay my hand on my chest. “Abigail Marshall? Maimi Marshall is my grandmother.”
His grin grows. “I do remember you. You were always with Ethan.” He looks toward the parking lot. “Speak of the devil,” he says softly.
Suddenly the door opens, and I look up when I hear the bell over the door. It’s Ethan. I quickly try to hide my purchases by shoving them back into the basket. I cover the cake up with the shirt and also make sure that’s unreadable.
The guy frowns. “You don’t have to worry about him, Abigail,” he says. “He’s harmless.” He glares at me. “He’s honestly one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. I can’t figure out why the people in this town can’t get over their hatred for him.” He clucks his tongue disapprovingly.
“I need to get a few more things,” I say, as I dash back down the aisle to hide.
“Morning, Shy,” I hear Ethan say. “Everything going your way?”
Ethan walks right past me, and I stare at the shelves in front of me and try to make myself look small and unassuming.
Suddenly, he stops right next to my ear. “If you didn’t want me to know it was you, you should have put some of that hair away,” he says. He tugs a lock of my hair, which makes me chuckle.
“You suck,” I reply. I shove my basket behind my back. “Don’t look at my purchases,” I warn, as I shake my finger at him.
“Oh, see, now I want to see what you have in that basket,” he says, as he tries to look around me. I volley from side to side blocking him. “Abigail Marshall!” he sings out. “Are you buying porn?”
I gasp out a laugh. Shy barks out a laugh, too. He’s full-on leaning on the counter now so that he can watch us.
“Shy, I bet you didn’t even know who she was, did you?” Ethan calls out.
“Soon as I saw you two together, it came right back to me,” Shy calls back.
“She’s nosy and she smells like lemons all the time, but
she’s pretty nice.”
I stand up a little taller. “I do not smell like lemons,” I mutter.
“You always have,” he says. He rubs his hands together like they’re cold. “So, what are you buying?”
“None of your business,” I reply as I lift my nose into the air a little.
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” He nods. “Okay. Fine.” He grabs a shopping basket from a nearby stand of them. “But don’t you look in my basket.”
He’s being playful and funny, and he’s so damn cute. He looks really good with the haircut, but I can see that he hasn’t shaved since I shaved the thick beard from his face, and his cheeks are covered in stubble.
“I like the new look!” Shy calls out to him.
“You can thank Abigail for the new me,” he says with a mock bow in Shy’s direction. “She hooked me up with a pair of scissors.” He paws the top of my head, his fingers spread wide as he gives me a scruff. I try to duck away from him, but he’s so cute now that he’s playing, I don’t want him to stop. “She told me she was tired of looking at my ugly face. Then she set out to make me brand new. And pretty.”