So We Can Glow - Stories - Leesa Cross-Smith Page 0,33
time he grabbed your arm too hard. Or the second. Or the third. He doesn’t grab your arm when you tell him your friend is a guy and he’s going to ride with you. You are at a red light and you are staring straight ahead. You’re a steel cage, careful not to cry.
The friend is Owen and you know Owen from the ice cream shop where you both work. Owen is kind without being flirty and maintains a boyish distance without being aloof. Owen’s sweetness and genuine kindness is hard on people. It’s almost stressful. How is he so great? Owen seems to be oblivious to how he makes girls feel, how he makes you feel comfortable and safe, like nothing could ever happen to you when he is around. When you and the other ice cream girls close up the shop at night, there are moments when you are anxious and afraid a man could show up. A brutal man, a man with a weapon, a man who would tie your hands and feet or put you in the freezer or rape you on the cold floor or kill you with a look. The ice cream girls are not anxious or afraid when Owen is there because he acts like he’s never been scared of anything. He smiles before he goes outside to sit on the bench and read. Owen is casual about his phone use and sometimes he doesn’t even take it with him. He sits there and reads. Actual books. Books like On the Road and the other Kerouacs. Kurt Vonnegut too. Once he was reading James Baldwin. Another time, a book of poems by Gwendolyn Brooks. He’d read “We Real Cool” to you as you stood there under the awning with him one day. He snapped his fingers and smiled at you, sweet. And when his shift was over he left without saying goodbye because he can do things like that without being rude.
You can trust Owen. And you are glad he answered your text.
Owen. Will you ride with me somewhere? I’ll explain later. Can I come pick you up?
Yes. This sounds quite mysterious so how could I say no? I’m at home. Come on over.
Nick is pissed. Nick is always pissed. He’s looking out his window. You have never told Nick about Owen and it’s kismet that Nick has never been to the ice cream shop when Owen is there. Nick would’ve been immediately jealous because Owen is the kind of cute you like and Nick knows that. Nick is going to meet Owen soon and Nick will be even angrier than he is now. But this will fix it. Nick will leave you alone because something about Owen is magic. Nick doesn’t have to know Owen is asexual. You would never tell Nick. Owen trusted you enough to tell you, so you trusted him back. Hard.
Owen is standing at the top of his long driveway. Nick shifts in the passenger seat and your anxiety instantly melts upon seeing Owen. He raises his hand at you before you stop the car. Owen sits in the back, the car filling with the smell of his house and whatever his parents made for dinner. Probably a hearty, healthy vegetable soup and a full glass of water.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi, Owen. Nick, this is my friend Owen,” you say and smile, turning to Owen, but avoiding Nick’s eyes.
“Nice to meet you, Nick,” Owen says, touching Nick’s shoulder. Nick nods. You let off the brake, gently press the gas pedal and begin the eleven-minute drive to Nick’s place. Eleven minutes in the car with Nick and Owen. Eleven more minutes to be afraid of Nick in the passenger seat. Eleven minutes of conversation and music.
Nick mentions a street you have to turn down is under construction, so you’ll have to go another way. Owen says he read about it on Twitter. You turn down the detour street, the sun gleaming off the street signs and the orange cones and the reflective vests of the construction workers. It’s so bright you have to shield your eyes.
You flick to the oldies playlist and “Please Mr. Postman” comes on. The happiest song. So summery. Ice cream pop. You listen to the song at the ice cream shop. Owen mentions this.
“I know, right? It always reminds me of work,” you say. Nick is looking out his window. “And ice cream.”
“Ice cream tastes how ‘Please Mr. Postman’ sounds. It sounds pink,” Owen says.
“It’s a