Page 86 of Pictures in Blue
“A date?” I ask stupidly like it’s something I’ve never heard of before. “You don’t think that would be crossing the lines of the agreement?”
Telling Axel about our agreement seemed like a good idea, but the look he’s giving me now lets me know I maybe should have kept the agreement between Avery and me to myself. He scoffs and looks at me like I’m crazy. Maybe he’s right.
“Screw the agreement at least for one night. You like her, right?”
“Yes,” I don’t hesitate. Lying to him would be pointless. I came for his help and he needs the truth to offer sound advice. He stands and takes a step closer to me and leans on the table of tools to the right of him.
“Then set aside the agreement for one night. Show her what it would be like if she stayed. Make herwantto stay. Haven’t you read any of the books Fran recommends? It’s all about the grand gestures, man,” he swats the back of his hand on my shoulder. “You need a grand gesture.”
Out of the two of us, Axel has always been the hopeless romantic. He disappears back under the car, tools clanking here and there against the underside. Would something like this scare her off? The last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable.
“What if she doesn’t want to?”
He stands again and places a hand on my shoulder, grease stains streaked on his hands. “Look, I know you’re afraid to put yourself out there.” I go to deny it, but he holds up his other hand before I can get any words out. “Don’t even try to make excuses,” he says. “I know you better than anyone and I know you’re afraid of her leaving. But not everyone leaves.”
“It feels like that sometimes,” I whisper.
“Sarah didn’t have a choice,” he says, sadly, gently squeezing before letting go and returning to his work. He stops himself before rolling back underneath the car and fixes me with a serious glare. “Seriously, man, get your head out of your ass and ask her out. You won’t know what could be unless you try.”
With that, he turns his music back on and goes back to work, promptly dismissing me. His words float around in my head like a hot air balloon slowly gaining height until it floats calmly in the air settling itself among the clouds. As much as I hate the idea, Axel is right. Chances are she will say no, but there isn’t any chance at all of her saying yes if I don’t try.
On my wayback to the cabin, I swing by Fran’s to pick up an order of lemon bars for Avery. Unfortunately, she is out of lemon bars, which explains why I am completely covered in flour at the moment. I should have put on the apron she offered me, but I always underestimate how messy flour is.
There are only a small selection of items that I know how to bake, and lemon bars aren’t one of them, so Fran is barking directions at me in between customers and pulling her bread orders out of the oven. She apparently didn’t have time to make the bars today, so I decided to take up shop and figure out how to make them for Avery.
I’m in the middle of combining the liquid ingredients, the mixer on the lowest setting when Fran comes from behind and bumps it up a few notches, the whisk in the center increasing speed. She instructs me to slowly add the dry ingredients.
I do as I’m told and try to carefully pour in the flour, but I lose my grip on the bowl and all of the flour is poured in at once and a big, puffy cloud of it billows out of the bowl, leaving white flecks on my shirt and face.
I let out a cough and Fran just turns around and lets out a shake of her head and a soft laugh. “You are hopeless, boy,” she says.
“I may be hopeless, old girl, but you love me anyway.”
“Who are you calling ‘old girl’?” she asks, hands on her hips in a stance that could rival Wonder Woman.
“Old? I didn’t say old. I said beautiful girl. Your hearing aid must be going out.”
She points a wrinkled finger in my direction, but lets a smile break through her features. “You may be younger than me, and you may think you’re smarter than me, but you are the stupidest man I know.” I scoff at her.
“Okay, Fran, don’t hold back. Go ahead,” I challenge her.
“Love makes idiots out of all of you.”
I roll my eyes at her and don’t take the bait. I go back to mixing the batter for the lemon bars. I stop the mixer. Unlocking it to pull it up, I grab a spatula to scrape the sides. The color looks right…I think. And the consistency is right…I think.
After I mix the rest of the flour that remains at the bottom, I pour it into the baking dish. I get a few inches away from the oven when Fran yells from the front of the store, “Make sure you butter the pan before you pour in the batter!”
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. I did not butter the pan. I shrug my shoulders and stick the pan in anyway. It’ll be fine just this once. I start cleaning up and washing the dishes. By the time I’m finished putting everything away, the bars are done. I go to the oven to get them and set the dish on the counter to cool.
After I help Fran with a rush of customers, she comes back to inspect the bars and she’s looking at them closely. I’m almost sure she knows somehow I didn’t butter the pan. She looks up at me, square in the eyes. “You didn’t butter the pan, did you?”
“Of course I did,” I lie. “I listened to all of your instructions.”
“You’re a dirty liar, Hudson Waters. I’ve known when you lie your whole life. I don’t know why you think you can get something by me now,” she says, pointing a finger in my face.
“Oh, come on Fran. How did you know?”
“Because I know when you’re lying, Hudson. You get a little crinkle in your eyebrow right there,” she taps my left eyebrow with her pointer finger.
