Free The Lonely by Tara Brown

look back up at
him, "You ordered my ice cream the way I would have ordered it?"
    He
looks confused, "It's not hard to guess. I watched you make a sandwich at
my house. The mayonnaise was brand-new and you opened it, took off the sealed
protector cover and then took the entire top layer of it off. You pulled the
meat out of the fridge and saw the seal was broken. I watched you. You put it
back and cooked bacon for the sandwich instead."
    I
bite my lip and process it, "You watch me a lot." I wonder what else
he's seen. It gets bad some days. I hope he hasn’t seen those moments.
    He
nods, "I do. I like you. You won't give me your cell phone number because
you say you don’t ever use it. But you text Michelle a million times a day and
tell her everything you're doing. You won't sleep at my house and never let me
drive you home. You kiss me like you're trying to kill me, but back off and
won't let me touch you. You always run when you've let me get just a little bit
further with you."
    I
feel sick and panicked until he finishes his thought.
    "You
have me completely enchanted and bewildered and mixed up. I can't eat or sleep
without wondering what you're doing. I watch you like a stalker would." He
puts a hand out, "I am not a stalker for the record." I laugh. He
runs his hands through his hair, "But I'm addicted to you. I get excited
every time we move just a bit further. I know something happened to you and
your life has been weird and horrid in a lot of ways. I just want to be the
good thing in it. I want to protect you and make you feel safe."
    My
face is on fire. The girl delivers the sundaes, but I stare forward and think
about what he's said. He wants to be the good thing. He wants to be in my life.
I haven’t run him off. He sees it and still wants me.
    Instead
of focusing on the cute boy, my OCD catches a glimpse of the ice cream girl's
gloved hands. I forget what he said and feel better about my ice cream. My
natural defense is a well-oiled machine. It shuts down anything that makes me
think.
    She
plunks them down and leaves.
    I
look at him and am speechless. His eyes search mine. When I offer up nothing,
he leans in and mutters,   "The
service here is shit but the ice cream is yummy." I can see he's upset by
the lack of response. I know I would be if it were he not saying anything. I
honestly have nothing I can share back.
    I
twirl the spoon in the ice cream and fudge sauce. "Thank you." I say
after a minute.
    "For
what?"
    I
look at him and want so badly to say the million things I'm thinking, "For
the sundae." I sigh.
    He
smirks, "You're welcome." I close my eyes and take a bite. The flavor
coats my tongue. It's an escape. It always was. Once a month we would get ice
cream. Always the huge tub of the cheap stuff, but it was ice cream and I was a
kid.
    I
decide to give him what I can. It's not much but if he knew the significance he
would be excited. "The first memory I have is ice cream." My voice is
small compared to the sound of the music in the restaurant, and the few other
people talking.
    "Really?
I think mine is my father taking me to the zoo." He bounces back so
quickly.
    I
nod, "I was seven. I had been at the orphanage for a while, but I don’t
remember anything, before the ice cream. I just remember being walked to a
table. The nun was pinching my arm. I had done something bad. I don’t remember
what. I sat down and there it was, a white bowl filled with bright pink ice
cream. The nun took it and walked away. I sat there, devastated obviously. I
could hear the clanking and clinking of everyone else's spoons against the
porcelain bowls, as they scraped and spooned and ate. I could almost taste the
cold ice cream. I knew what it was. I wasn’t allowed any though. It was the
last time I misbehaved. I made up my mind then, I would be the perfect child. I
would do what they wanted. I wanted the ice cream so badly. There was a girl
named Susan. She was perfect, always the best child. I watched her. I wanted