I’ll Wait For You

“It’s not fair if you hit me and I can’t hit you. And if you hit me, I will hit you.”

Tina was nodding, having forgotten about her picture for the moment. “I won’t hit you. I don’t want to be hit.”

“I don’t, too.” Elinor watched Tina resume her drawing. “Can I draw with you?”

“No.” Then Tina reconsidered her statement. “Yes.”

They had then sat together and obliterated paper together, and the adults who then spotted the two children had come over, bewildered that the children, who had formerly been in a prolonged kind of war with each other, were now peacefully creating circles.

It was also the incident that made Elinor appreciate what honesty could do. If neither of them had bothered to be honest to each other about not liking one another, then they might not have been friends today. Unfortunately, she sometimes struggled with honesty in the adult world.

The three boys who had been decimating everyone’s eardrums finally trailed into a screeching, guitar twang silence. Richard ushered them away from the stage before they could risk deterring any other customers from coming into the café.

Tina took out her earplugs with a relieved sigh. “You know, I wouldn’t need to bring these with me if you just went onto the stage and performed. I like your singing, you know. And now you’re not with that disgusting waste of space, well…” she shrugged. “Maybe you can get back into the whole groove of things.”

“I still haven’t heard you sing!” Peter said, smiling enthusiastically. White skinned, with blonde hair and gentle features, he gave off the air of someone who was permanently cool about everything. Elinor had tested the theory out once, taking a pen and drawing on Peter’s arms when he was chatting to Tina some weeks back. He had simply examined the patterns Elinor was drawing – little winged pe*ises – then ignored the whole process, allowing Elinor to eventually cover both his arms and one cheek with the pattern. “Tina keeps going on about how you were an amazing singer and how you could wipe the floor with all the smucks that come here.”

“To be fair,” Tina pointed out, “It’s not much of a floor to wipe.”

Karen snickered, even as Elinor said, “Well, if you’re looking to boost my confidence, you’ve gone to the right place.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Tina protested. “Just that… ugh. I’m not wriggling out of this one. I insulted you. My poor, dear friend. I’m a terrible person.”

“You are,” Elinor agreed. “Hey, Karen, can you get us some drinks? And see if you can take a short break.” Elinor beamed at her colleague, who nodded.

“Usual then, I take it?” She caught the approval of the others and waltzed off, rear swaying noticeably as she went behind the bar to sort out the drinks.

“I like her,” Tina said, drumming her fingers on the table, before flicking back a lock of long, straight black hair. “Are you two meeting up after work or is the friendship restricted to the café?”

“We haven’t met up outside work yet. But I think I’d like to. She’s not been here very long, four months – I think she’s less judgmental than you.”

“Hey!” Tina said, but didn’t deny the sentiment. She glanced around the café, wondering who would be next on the act list, and spied the man with the tattoos, alone on his table, idly leafing through his phone. “That guy.”

Elinor observed her pointing finger. “Yeah. That guy. What about him?”

“I’ve seen him here a few times now. He’s always alone, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” Elinor had noticed this as well.

The man stood out from the crowd he was surrounded by, well groomed, with the blue flower field on his arms, the contorted tree and the painted white house on full display. He acted oblivious to the attention he attracted from others in the place as he went through his beer at glacial speed. Elinor considered him to be a good looking man, in all honesty, with icy blue eyes that reminded her of Ragnar Lothbrok from the show Vikings, which she was happily devouring at this point in time. It also intimidated her somewhat, as she wasn’t entirely sure what kind of personality lurked behind that exterior, nor of his true purpose for being in this place – because she felt certain that sitting here to enjoy the music selection offered was a flimsy excuse for something else. “He claims he’s just hear to listen to the music, and that the people here deserve to be heard.”

“Sounds like a lunatic, then,” Tina sniffed, her expression less approving of him than before. “Shame, really. Has a nice face.”

“Ehem,” Peter said. “Boyfriend over here. I have a nice face as well.”

“Yes, you do,” Tina said in a fake simpering tone, before reaching over to give him a sloppy kiss. “And it’s my face. But I can also appreciate other people’s beauty without cheating on you, you know.”

Peter conceded the point. He was quite the fan of ogling pretty new girls as well. Elinor continued watching the man with the tattoos, wondering about his words, wondering if it would be worth her going up to the stage and trying to sing again after a long stretch of nothing. She wondered if he would like her voice, if he would notice her.

As if reading her thoughts, Tina nudged her best friend. “Go on. Why not just perform one song? Even if you sound like a croaking frog, it has to be better than most of those who come here.”

“There are good acts here,” Elinor argued, still deciding if she dared. She knew the only reason she even considered it was because she wanted his attention. She wanted him to look at her, and compliment her on her skill. It was a childish notion, but one she relished nonetheless. It had been so long since she last sang.