Yeah, confrontation. It wasn’t my thing.
Well, unless the person was Reed Luca. For some reason, he brought out a different side in me. His ability to twist my funny columns into ludicrous insinuations that I was brainwashing my readers lit a fire under my normally reserved ass, and I had no qualms about telling him how I felt.
Sure, most of it was through emails, but baby steps. At least I wasn’t sending him baked goods and flowers, right?
Confident that Jen was the best woman for the confrontation job, I tossed my cell phone onto the coffee table, grabbed my roller skates from the side of the couch, and started to lace up. Okay, I also had to knee-pad up, and elbow-pad up, and wrist-guard up, and protect my head with my favorite glittery helmet. I might’ve loved to skate, but I wouldn’t go as far as saying I was an expert skater. The fact that I even bought a mouthguard to wear while roller skating was proof of that. I refused to wear it, though. I had a tendency to whistle to whatever music I was listening to, and whistling with a mouthguard in was damn near impossible.
I know, I know. I’m an odd bird.
But in my defense, San Francisco has a lot of hills, and that’s no easy feat for an amateur roller skater.
Even though my skating skills lacked accuracy, I was determined to make it another form of transportation. I still hadn’t found my vehicle version of Delilah, and a girl needed options besides her bike.
Today, I was using the skates to make a quick run to my favorite mom-and-pop grocery store for coffee creamer. My fridge’s contents were dismal at best, and one day soon, I’d get determined and actually go to the grocery store to buy more than just one item and some candy from the display by the checkout line.
But seriously, how can anyone not buy at least a bag of M&Ms while they’re waiting in the checkout line?
Whoever you are—because I really think there’s only one person in the entire world who can achieve this insanely difficult task—I applaud you.
“Be good, Louie,” I shouted over my shoulder as I carefully walked over the carpet with my skates and toward the door.
I didn’t even need to check for his response. No doubt, it was either sarcastic or him just completely ignoring me.
I locked the door to my apartment and adjusted the straps of my backpack on my shoulders. I had learned quickly that if roller skates were my mode of transportation, I had to have a backpack on to carry shit. Otherwise, stuff in my pockets tended to stab me when I ended up on my ass.
The instant my wheels hit the tile hallway, I started to wobble. My arms shot out as I tried like hell to catch my balance, and luckily, I managed to grab ahold of the banister leading toward the stairs before I face-planted.
Don’t worry. It always starts out this way.
I promise, I get better the more I skate.
My gaze moved down the two flights of stairs, and I immediately changed tactics.
Definitely elevator.
With the wall as my guide, I made it to the doors and tapped the down button. The doors opened a few seconds later, and I skated in, rolling right into a guy holding a newspaper.
“Whoa.” He stepped back while the paper in his hands wrinkled and jostled.
Without any other options, I gripped his forearms with my hands and managed to steady the wobbles again.
A nervous laugh escaped my lips. “Sorry about that. I guess I miscalculated that entrance.”
“First time on skates?”
Now was probably not the time to let him know I’d had these wheels for six months.
“Uh-huh,” I lied and removed my death grip from his forearms. “Just learning the ropes, I guess.”
“Well, you know what they say,” he said with a smirk.
My head tilted to the side. “What do they say?”
I honestly didn’t know who “they” were, but if they knew my track record with roller skates, I’d venture to guess they’d tell me to stop skating.
“Practice makes perfect.”
“Ah,” I said with a nod.
“I’m surprised your parents let you ride around on those things in the city.”
My parents? “Uh…”
I had a feeling now also wasn’t the time to tell him I was, in fact, thirty-two and not sixteen. He’d most likely give me the familiar look that everyone else gave me. If I had to put that look into words, it probably said, “Wow. You’re kind of weird.”
The elevator doors opened, and he folded up his newspaper and slid it into his back pocket. “I hope you stick to the courtyard. It’s safer that way, little lady.”
Little lady. Internally, I smiled at the absurdity. This guy was probably younger than I was.
“Okay.”
“Have a good day,” he called over his shoulder as he made a beeline for the front gate.