Angels and Soda

I heard her coming before I saw her. With each step, I could hear the slap of her flip-flops against her heels as she approached from behind me. However, I didn’t expect the sudden cool of the chilled soda can. I think my cheek steamed a little from the contact.

“—the fuck!” I shouted, slapping the hand that was holding can against my face.

She just laughed and said, “You’re so cute when you’re boiling over with rage!”

I sighed and leaned back against the bench I’d been sitting on, and she stepped around to join me. I heard the soft rustle of her long blond hair as she lifted it behind the bench to keep from leaning against it. My head was tilted back and I wiped some sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. My eyes were closed against the sun’s glare but I heard a hiss as she opened her can of soda. I held out my hand so she could give me my own drink, which she did. I turned to face her and opened my eyes.

“Where’s the change?” I asked.

“Ten percent service charge,” she replied. I thought about saying something, but past experience had taught me that I had no chance of getting my money back. We just sat there for a few moments after that, sipping our drinks and trying to ignore the kids running around the park, noisy little hooligans that they were.

“Honestly, woman,” I said, “I have no idea why I put up with you.”

“Because I’m adorable, that’s why. And don’t call me ‘woman.’”

“Would you prefer I call you, ‘man?’”

“Don’t be stupid. You just say it like it was a fucking insult.”

“Don’t cuss.”

“Why not? You just did!”

“Well yeah, but I’m a guy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Guys can sound cool when they cuss, but girls can’t. Their voices are too high. The only way that a girl can sound cool when she cusses is when she has a really husky, manly voice. You don’t want a husky, manly voice, do you?”

“Girls with husky voices were sexy in the twenties.”

“So was bootlegging and denying women’s suffrage. Remember how those turned out?”

She cried out in frustration, throwing her arms in the air.

“I really just cannot talk to you when you’re like this,” she said.

“And I can barely understand you when you try to say anything!”

She punched me for that, which I don’t blame her for. She had finished her soda by then, and I watched as she fiddled with the hem of her white sundress, holding it just above her knees.

“How’re you ever going to find a girlfriend when you’re this mean to everybody?” she asked, her tone even.

“I’m not going to,” I replied, straight-faced, “I’m going to grow old and lonely and be that crotchety old man who sits on his porch with a shotgun, just daring kids to run on his lawn.”

She laughed at that, a bubbly sound that came from all the way down the bottom of her stomach.

“And you’d be completely happy, living like that?”

“Well, not exactly happy, but that’s not the point, is it?”

She laughed again, then sighed a little.

“Noah… don’t ever change.”

Before I could ask her what she meant, we heard our names being shouted from across the playground.

“God, what took them so long?” She got up, smoothed out the front of her sundress and held out her hand. Her head was blocking the sun, and with its rays against her wheat-gold hair, it almost looked as if she had a halo.

“Come on, or we’re going to be late.”

I casually wiped my hand on my pants, hoping that the worst of the sweat was taken care of, and took hers. It was small and soft and still cold from the soda, but held onto mine tightly.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, letting her drag me along, as I generally did.