The service was nice, and many people got up to speak about Robin. The high school ensemble choir sang a beautiful song that I had heard them perform before, but for the most part I tuned out the service and let my mind wander. It was better for me that way.
After the graveside ceremony, I was heading back to the church for the reception and sent a text to April.
Heading back over now. Are you going to the reception?
She responded quickly once again. Yeah I will drop in for a few minutes. But, I will meet you in the parking lot when you get here.
Okay.
Teachers’ lot?
Sure, I’ll park there.
As I pulled into the parking lot, I saw her in the distance standing next to a newer model BMW. I immediately began mentally thanking Holly for letting me borrow her car for the day. It wasn’t a BMW, but it sure as hell wasn’t the Roller Skate.
April was dressed in a very pretty black dress, which made her skin look extra porcelain in the Florida sun. I imagined she probably didn’t let herself get outside much, as the sun was likely not her friend. Her eyes were protected by very large black sunglasses that probably could have doubled as Frisbees if you popped the lenses out. Maybe that was exaggerating, but they did look very nice on her, as well as expensive.
“Hey,” I said, getting out of the car. I made sure to turn Pink way down as I pulled into the parking lot, so as not to arouse any suspicion in April of my possible interest in female pop/rock.
“Hi, Luke,” she said.
I neared her and I wasn’t sure whether or not I should hug her or shake her hand or just stand with my hands in my pockets like a fool. She might have already sensed my hesitation, might have already determined she was going to hug me, or perhaps she was just naturally a hugger, because she went in for the hug like we had been friends for much longer than a week. The embrace was short, but feeling her body pressed against me, however briefly, made my thoughts fire away in many different directions. She wasn’t large breasted by any means, so our bodies got closer than they might have if I had been hugging a different woman. Her body felt lean and strong, and I was more convinced now than before that she was probably an avid runner. Or maybe she played tennis her whole life.
As she stepped back, I found myself wishing I could see her eyes. I usually read people pretty well, and I wanted to have been able to see her eyes before and after the hug.
“So,” she said, wringing her hands in front of her body, “You’re probably wondering why I called this meeting.”
I laughed. That was a line Principal West used often. Clearly, April had already heard him say it. She broke the ice nicely.
“Actually, I was just looking forward to a clandestine parking lot meeting,” I said. “It’s been too long!”
She laughed this time.
“Always a quick joke with you!”
I smiled. “So, what’s up, Mrs. Batista?”
I don’t know why I just turned it formal. Maybe my subconscious wanted me to stop thinking about hugging her.
“Okay,” she said, “I hope you don’t think this is weird or inappropriate, but I know the last few days have been rough for you. So, I made you something.”
She unlocked her car and it beeped loudly as she walked toward the front seat on the passenger’s side. Her head ducked inside the car along with her arms, but when she came out she was holding a very large, covered red Tupperware bowl.
“Made me something?” I asked, with no idea what could possibly be in the bowl.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’ve been where you are. I mean, I have lost people close to me before, and I know it’s easy to neglect yourself and stop eating.”
Did she really cook food for me?
“I’ve skipped a few meals, that’s for sure,” I admitted, truthfully.
“Well, the day I met you I told you my husband probably had a really good recipe for the posole you mentioned. But, I have a confession.”
“Okay?”
“I really didn’t have a clue what posole was, so I just assumed it was something his family probably made.” She laughed. “It’s not. He’s Cuban, and posole is apparently not Cuban at all.”
Now I laughed. It most certainly was not Cuban.
“So, I found a supposedly great posole recipe online and made you some. I hope that’s okay. I don’t even really know how it’s supposed to taste. If it’s awful, we can just pretend I never tried?”
I was speechless for a minute.
“Oh my god, no. I am sure it will be great,” I said, shocked that she would do something that thoughtful. “You really didn’t have to though.”
“I know, but, I mean we will probably be working together and all, if everything works out for me. I just wanted to do something nice. I don’t know.”