A Little Bit Cupid: A Collection of Short Stories Read online

  “I swear it.” He put both hands up. “He’s a little…different, though. And there’s no accounting for taste, right?”

  “Right. Favorite Beatle?”

  “John.”

  “I thought so,” I said with a sly grin.

  “Let me guess, you have a pin-up of Paul McCartney on your wall?”

  “Guilty,” I nodded, closing my eyes tightly. “How did you know?”

  “Just had a feeling. All the girls love Paul.”

  “He’s just…well, he’s Paul. And his voice is so beautiful.” I shrugged and giggled. “So, what was the last album you bought?”

  “Bookends.”

  “Simon & Garfunkel?” I asked, already knowing the answer. I was thrilled that he was also a fan of Paul Simon’s gentle voice and poetic ballads. I couldn’t get enough of Paul Simon. I mean, he was no Paul McCartney, but he wrote gorgeous songs that spoke to my heart.

  “It’s amazing. Their best yet. Have you heard it?”

  I shook my head. “Only on the radio. And in that movie.”

  “Oh man, The Graduate. That was a trip, wasn’t it?” He shook his head, biting down on his lip.

  “Like nothing I’ve seen. I liked the actor. Dustin something.”

  “Hoffman, I think.”

  “That’s the one. He’s different, you know? Not like the rest of the larger than life movie stars. He seems like a guy you could live next door to, it made the story so believable.”

  "Yeah, I guess it did." Max narrowed his eyes and smiled like he was impressed with me or something. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

  “The song is perfect, too, isn’t it? I’ll have to get the album.”

  “You won’t regret it.”

  A calm silence wedged between us briefly as we approached Sonny’s. “Here we are,” I said before glancing down at my watch.

  “Don’t you want to come in? See if they have Bookends?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in earnest. I barely knew him, but the idea of walking away from him made my stomach flip and my heart sink. I wanted to spend as much time as I could with the intriguing guy from my bus. At least long enough for him to ask for my phone number.

  God, I hope he asks for my number.

  “I don’t want my mother to worry. I’m usually home before 5 o’clock.”

  “Oh,” he pressed his lips together, nodding. Disappointment covered his handsome face.

  What are you doing? Of course, you want to go in!

  “Well,” I shrugged. “I have a few minutes. Let’s see what’s new.”

  Max’s face lit up and grabbed the doorknob, stepping aside. “After you.”

  The cowbell above me let out a cheerful clang as I walked into Sonny’s, smelling the familiar scents of vinyl and cardboard with just a hint of incense. Max beelined for the guitars along the far wall of the store.

  “That’s right,” I said, walking behind him as he studied a smooth, chocolate brown bass guitar. “You play, don’t you?”

  Max cocked his head to the side, looking curious. “How did you know?”

  “I, uh…”

  I notice everything about you since the first day I saw you on the bus.

  “You carried a guitar once…or, at least I think that was you?” Trying desperately to sound casual, I bit down on my lower lip as he digested my answer. He tapped a finger to his lips.

  “That’s right. I did have it with me…once.” He pulled a guitar pick from the front pocket of his jeans and strummed the bass.

  “Wait, do you carry those around with you?”

  He shrugged. “Force of habit. You never know when you might need one, right?”

  I shook my head with a nervous laugh. “I’ve never played an instrument, although I’d like to learn piano someday.”

  “I know a great teacher if you decide you’d like to learn.”

  “Really?” Now it was my turn to be curious. I cocked my head to the side. “Who?”

  Max placed the bass back in its spot. "Me."

  “You play piano, too?”

  “And the drums.” He said with a smile, running his hand over a tambourine.

  “Wow, I’m…I’m in awe. Are you some kind of musical genius or something?”

  “Nah,” he said, brushing off his obvious talents. “Just takes practice, that’s all.”

  With a jester’s grin, he placed the tambourine in my hand. “Give it a try.”

  “Now? Here?”

  “Why not?” He asked, pointing to the speaker next to the wall that was playing The Dave Clark Five. “You just have to find the beat.”

  My cheeks grew hot, but I clutched the tambourine, shaking it softly and slapping my hand to its soft leather as I followed the beat of the tune hovering above us.

  “There you go. See? You’re a natural.”

  Laughing, I slapped it against my hip before handing it back to Max, surprising myself with my flirtation.

  I really like this guy.

  “A total natural,” he said, placing it down. “I knew it.”

  “You did, huh?” I asked with a nervous laugh, walking toward the first row of vinyl records.

  "Mm-hmm. I can always tell when someone has rhythm. It's a gift," he said with a wink before adjusting his glasses and dipping his fingers into the sea of records.

  “I see,” I said.

  “Ahh, here it is. The one I came here for,” He said, holding an Otis Redding record with both his hands.

  “Otis?” I exclaimed. “He’s amazing.”

  “It’s his new one,” Max said with a grin, showing me the cover. “They have a bunch. We can both get one.”

  “I, uh…payday is next week. I think I’ll wait until then.”

  “You at least need a 45 of Dock of the Bay. My treat.”

  I shook my head, pursing my lips. “I can’t let you do that. You barely know me.”

  “Consider it a thank you for showing me how to get here. I would’ve wandered for at least an hour if you hadn’t shown me the way.”

  “I doubt that.”

  "Please," he said, his expression kind. "I'd like you to have it."

  “That would be so nice. Thank you.”

  “It’s settled then,” he said, grabbing the full LP and a 45 RPM for me. Then he wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “Let’s see what else they have.”

  We walked the aisles, again and again, talking about our families, our pets, our favorite movies. I learned that Max was 22 years old and had lived in Chicago his entire life, just like me. Despite being someone who lived on the north side of Chicago, his father raised him to be a die-hard White Sox fan. He despised country music about as much as he loved rock and roll. He loved dogs but didn't trust cats. He'd never been on an airplane but had the honor of opening for The Who and The Byrds up in Milwaukee (which he was grateful to drive to). His life was exciting and unique and the more I learned about him, the more I wanted to know. He was equally curious about me, asking about my job, my friends and the things that made me tick. Unlike a lot of the guys I had dated, he wanted to know the answers. He listened intently and my answers led to more questions. For the first time in my life, someone seemed fascinated by me. Me, Jeanne Kramer. It blew my mind! When he asked about my family, I realized how much time had passed.

  “Oh no, I had better go. It’s going to get dark and my mother might be worried.”

  “Wait, can I walk you?”

  “Sure, that’d be nice.” I was relieved that Max didn’t seem any more ready to say goodbye than I was. After the cashier rung up Max’s purchases, and he handed me a small bag with my Otis record, we walked out into the cool spring air just as the sun was drifting down into the horizon. Pink and blue swirls filled the sky.

  “It looks like cotton candy,” I said.

  “It means we’ll have a beautiful day again tomorrow.”

  “Really? I didn’t know that.”

  “Although I doubt it could top today.” He blushed, his eyes piercing mine.

  My b
reath caught and my heart pounded with those words and I realized that I wanted to know every single detail about Max Lampert that I possibly could. I craved him, wanted to know him inside and out. And I wanted to know everything before we reached my building in just three short blocks.

  “So, with all your reading, you must have a favorite book.”

  “I love the classics…Robin Hood, Sherlock Holmes, things like that. What about you?”

  "I've always loved Jane Austen," I said. "I love that she was way ahead of her time. Such an independent thinker—I admire that about her."

  “It comes through in her writing. I loved Pride & Prejudice.”

  “You did?” I asked, pleasantly surprised. I’d never met a guy my age who’d read Austen let alone liked her stuff.

  “Oh yeah, I love how Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett push each other’s buttons. The reader knows they’re meant to be together before they do. It’s kind of timeless, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. And it reminds me of a simpler time—when all you had to worry about was following the rules of society. Right now, everything’s so scary. My father doesn’t even want us watching the news these days. I can’t believe they shot Dr. King.”

  Being young was tough in 1968. It seemed like being in your twenties was a crime in itself—especially if you wanted to speak out against the war. My oldest brother was serving and my mother hadn’t slept well in months. My younger brother had threatened to move to Canada if his number came up in the lottery.

  "I know," Max said. "Killing a man who only preached about peace and equality. You have to be a real scumbag to see someone like that as a threat. And now the DNC is being held here in August. I don't even want to think about how bad that might get."

  “Maybe RFK can turn things around—if he wins the nomination, that is.”

  “I sure hope so.”

  We walked in silence as cars whizzed by and buses honked. A group of boys played stickball in the alley, laughing as the ball bounced between the two brick buildings. I decided to change the subject. Even though life around us was scary and uncertain, I wanted to hold on to the innocence of our afternoon, to learn as much about Max as I could.

  “What’s your favorite instrument to play?”

  “Guitar, for sure. I sing, too.”

  “Of course, you do,” I said, shaking my head with a laugh.

  He tilted his head to the side before pushing his hair behind his ears. “What do you mean?”

  “You just seem so talented. You play almost every instrument, you sing, you teach. One day you’ll probably write a book, too. And I just run the switchboard at a department store.”

  “I can’t knit…or sew,” he said with raised eyebrows. “Know anyone who can do that?”

  “I bet you could if you tried,” I teased.

  “Nah,” he shook his head. “I’m not that skilled.”

  “Sure,” I scoffed.

  “You know, Jeanne, you sell yourself short.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “You’re funny and charming and creative. And, you’re just…well, you’re the most far out girl I’ve ever met.”

  I was stunned and I swear my heart skipped a beat. “I am?”

  “By far.” His expression was so genuine, so earnest. With raised eyebrows and a furrowed brow, I knew he was wearing his heart on his sleeve. And I’m pretty sure that was the moment that I fell for him. I fell for Max’s impassioned words and his honest heart.

  “So, don’t sell yourself short, okay?”

  I wanted to kiss him, I wanted to place both of my hands on his cheeks and kiss his handsome, thin lips. But I couldn’t do it. Instead, I stared at him in awe before whispering, “I’ll try not to.”

  “Good.” He said with a decisive nod.

  We slowed our pace as we walked the last block to my apartment. With each passing front stoop, we showed our steps just a little bit more until we were walking at a snail’s pace.

  “How long have you been working at Field’s?” He asked.

  “Two years. I’m hoping to work my way up.” I paused. “And you? Do you teach music?”

  “Every so often. But, most of the time I work for my uncle. He runs a binder company on Fulton. He’s trying to get me into sales, but I’m not sure that’s what I want to do. Not a very creative gig, you know?”

  "Yeah, seems a little too 'cookie-cutter' for you."

  Max stopped and nodded, looking up at the sky. “Wow.”

  “What is it?”

  Did I say something wrong?

  “I mean, my parents have known me my entire life, and I can’t seem to explain that to them, but you…you just get it. It’s like you get me.”

  “I think you get me, too.” I swallowed hard, feeling butterflies swarm my belly. Tension rose between us as we stood in silence. I tried to think of something, anything to say. “I bet you’re a great music teacher.”

  “I do give private lessons every once in a while. Friends of the family, mostly.”

  “Kids or adults?”

  "Kids are much more fun. They're usually pretty excited to learn." Max stopped and reached into his back pocket. "I have a gig tomorrow night. Maybe you can come by?"

  He placed a flyer in my hand.

  MAX FRATE PERFORMING

  “Max Frate?”

  He nodded. “Stage name.”

  “I like it. It’s kind of a play on words, right?”

  “Exactly! So, will you come?” He asked. “It’s not a huge venue, but you’d get to hear me play. It’s an acoustic set, just me and my guitar.”

  "I wouldn't miss it, Max," I said, tucking the flyer into my purse. Max breathed a heavy sigh, and I knew he had been wanting to ask me that for a while.

  “Jeanne, there’s something I should tell you.”

  I braced myself for some sort of heartbreaking secret. A girlfriend? A secret identity? "Okay," I said, swallowing hard.

  “I won’t be on the bus anymore. And there’s a reason why.”

  What on earth? Was he sick? Dying? Drafted? Would he be shipped out to Vietnam and I’d never see him again?

  “Why not?” I asked, trying to hide my disappointment.

  “A week or so ago, I had a music lesson near here. The stop after yours, in fact.”

  “Um, okay.” I furrowed my brow, trying to put these puzzle pieces together, unsure of why he was telling me about a music lesson.

  “The boy decided he didn’t want to take guitar after-all. But, that’s neither here nor there.”

  “Max, I don’t understand.”

  “I live way across town. I take the “L” home.”

  “Wait, you usually take the train?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “That day, I jumped on a bus to see a potential student, and I saw the most beautiful girl. Across a sea of faces, I saw her and my world flipped upside down. She was wearing this coral colored dress with this white collar. Her hair was pulled back with this thick headband and her hair spilled down her shoulders. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I had to meet her, had to get to know her.”

  I had a coral dress with a white collar—I'd bought it at Field's just a few weeks ago. I pulled my hair back in a coordinating white headband when wearing that dress. I knew exactly who he was talking about. His cheeks reddened as he continued his confession.

  “And so the next day, without even thinking, I walked right past the staircase that takes me to the “L.” Instead, I walked to the bus stop and waited. I waited for your bus.”

  "That's why you only had the guitar case once…" my voice trailed off. No wonder he'd only had the case with him that first day I'd noticed him.

  He nodded. “I’ve been riding your bus every day, trying to get the guts to talk to that girl in the coral dress. And today, I finally did. And she’s everything I’d hoped for and more.”

  Happiness wrapped its arms around me as I took in his confession. “So, w
ait. Where have you been going every day?”

  He shrugged, pulling his bottom lip under his teeth. “I get off at the stop just after yours and then I jump on a different bus to get to my apartment.”

  “How far out of your way have you been going?” I asked in disbelief.

  “Not far.”

  “But, far enough.”

  “I’d have gone much further,” he said softly, his eyes vulnerable.

  We stood in silence as I attempted to process what he’d told me. Gently, he took my hand in his, holding it so gingerly.

  “So, you’re not getting drafted?”

  A look of shock crossed his face and an awkward laugh escaped his mouth. “No, why would you think that?”

  “Because you said you’d never be on the bus again and my brain just…well, it started to wander, I guess.”

  "That's something you never have to worry about. I'll never be drafted."

  “Why is that?”

  He pointed to his left eye, “Legally blind in this eye. The military considers me useless.”

  “I mean…is it strange if I’m relieved by that?”

  “Not at all.” He pressed his lips into a thin line. “I’m kind of relieved myself.”

  We walked past Mrs. Gianelli’s bakery just as she was flipping the sign to “Closed.” She waved to me from behind the glass door, raising eyebrows toward Max. I waved her away and kept walking. An awkward silence followed.

  "Listen, I hope I haven't scared you away. I just…I had to meet you, had to hear your voice and know your name. And I knew with absolute certainty that if I didn't do something to make that happen, I'd always regret it. Always."

  My heart swelled with his words. “I’m not scared. I just can’t believe you did that…just for me.” A tear fell from my eye. “It’s crazy. I mean…I was just a face…a face on a bus.”

  Max took my other hand in his. “A face I hope to see again tomorrow. And the next day and the one after that. But only if you want that, too. I’ll walk away right now and never bother you again if that’s what you want.”

  “No, please don’t do that.” I shook my head vehemently.

  “So, maybe I’ll see you tomorrow then? At my show?”

  "I'd like that," I said with a smile, squeezing his hands. "I'd like that a lot."

  My nerves were on fire as I held his hands in mine. What if I didn’t meet his expectations? Would he be disappointed when he realized I wasn’t the dreamer he was?