Adding to the mystery she throws me a hurried, “I have to go,” before pushing the stroller away from my concerned observations.
“Stacy!” She looks up and pauses, frowning but curious. “Do you have a boy or a girl? I feel like a jerk for running into you a couple times now and not asking about your baby.”
“She’s a girl. Her name is Celia.”
“That’s my sister’s name!”
Her eyes narrow. “No way.”
“I’m completely serious. I’m not joking anymore.”
A sparkle lights her eyes again. “Not joking anymore means completely serious.”
“A lady who understands redundancy and holds the bar higher for my intellect. Can you be any more attractive?”
She glances to the sidewalk as her eyelashes flutter. Within two seconds I’m inside my apartment and running to the door, throwing it open, ignoring Daniel’s curiosity, exploding into the hallway where my sprint takes me down two flights of stairs and a seven step stoop.
My sister said to spy and confirm my suspicions or drop it for good. If he’s hurting Stacy, I will happily take her off his hands. But if not, I’ll go on with my life. At least I’ll have an answer, and maybe I can help someone who needs it. As far as romantic interest goes, I haven’t touched anyone since I met her. My hormones hate that. But nobody has piqued me. Lots of people in the world but none have sparked that what-is-happening feeling I felt when I locked eyes for the first time with Stacy.
I catch up to her and slow down, panting a little. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“What are you doing?” She eyes me from profile, pushing the stroller north.
To home?
It’s my best guess.
We shall see!
“Just thought I’d walk with you for a little while, if you don’t mind.” Staring ahead I remain as friendly and neutral as possible. “It’s a beautiful afternoon, especially with the sun at this particular angle.”
“You don’t talk like other people. How old are you?”
“Damn, you caught me. I was born in another era. I’m actually two-hundred and fifty.”
“Stop it,” she laughs.
I lean forward a little so I can lock eyes with her, insisting, “I am only visiting here. So you don’t have to worry about me falling in love with you. I’ll be disappearing soon and you’ll never see me again anyway. So why not take a casual stroll while we have the sun on our side?”
One of her thumbs is lightly caressing the stroller-bar. I’m trying not to think of that bar as something else. But hey, I’m a man. And I want her. But I’ll take friends if that’s all fate wants to gift me.
“I don’t remember what your name is. It was a weird name, I know that.”
“If you’re going to call it weird then I’m never telling you what it is again.”
“Was it Funk?”
“It was definitely not Funk.”
“Monk?” I shake my head so she tries again, “Junk?”
“That’s it. You got it right. My name is Junk.”
She laughs at my dry delivery and cries out with the cutest smile, “Just tell me what it was!”
“What it is. My name hasn’t changed. What it was is what it is.”
“Okay, okay! What is your name?”
“Tonk. My name is Tonk Jr. Lewis.” Laughing at her expression I explain, “I know it sounds weird. But it doesn’t feel weird to me. It’s always been my name. My father’s name was Leonard Lewis. When he joined a motorcycle club they gave him that nickname because it sounded a little like a thud. When you sound out the word it’s almost like the word bonk. And my dad was really young, the newbie. He’s a good man, very loyal, but not terribly bright. The guys teased him with this nickname, especially Jett, and it stuck. There’s a certain weight to it that I like. Tonk has an actionable pressure when you say it: Tonk. It’s meaty.” She’s been watching me, and her attentiveness is really beautiful. The way she listens and the slowness of her footsteps has made me feel important. I don’t normally reveal intimate things about my personal life with anyone, much less someone I just met. Of course with her, she could ask me anything and I’d vomit it out without thought of consequence.
Even Daniel doesn’t know my family are the key members of a Robin Hood-like vigilante biker club. But then again, he doesn’t know what month it is, either.
“It’s hard to see you with a father who rides motorcycles. You’re so…clean cut. I would’ve expected you to be a lawyer’s son.”
Watching the world pass us by as we stroll in the sunlight, I explain, “My dad and I don’t have a lot in common. He’s blonde haired and blue-eyed. Doesn’t enjoy reading. Loves to fight. For the right reasons. They help people. He’s not picking fights just to do it.” I add, just to make sure he’s painted in a true light.
“I understand.”
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately because I moved away from him and my family when I came here to study Psychology and become a family and marriage therapist. It’s given me some distance from who I used to be. I think I was always living in the shadow of what he wanted from me. Do you know what that feels like?”
She stares ahead. “Yes.”
“Where are you from?”
“Michigan.”
“How long have you been living in the city?”
“I moved here three years ago.” Her eyelashes fall to the stroller. “I was going to Columbia.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “That’s where I go. What were you studying?”
“I came here to study business because I heard that was a good thing to major in. But I don’t have an entrepreneurial mind. I’m not really a self-starter.” Defensively she adds, “Except when I’m really passionate about something. Then I have more motivation. But I get distracted easily.”
“We all do.”
“I think I do more than most.” Chewing her
