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Sketchbooks and Friday Sunsets
There she was, sitting there on the cement barrier meant to keep people from stumbling over the edge and into the water. She was there every Friday evening, sitting facing the water and the sunset, the soft golden of the rays lighting her up. Vaguely, she reminded him of a hippie, her clothes loose and billowing, and her hair natural and free to whip about her in the breeze. She gave no mind to anyone around her, focused solely on the sketch-pad in her lap, pencil steadily moving over page after page. He’d have given anything to see what was on them.
But no. He was too shy to approach her, too coy to walk over and ask her what she was drawing. Instead he took to wandering down to the peer every Friday evening to sit just out of sight and watch. He enjoyed seeing her wardrobe, and array of colors and styles, bobbles and bangles one day and no jewelry at all on others. Sometimes her hair was plain, other times she added a feather or a braid, just enough to make it interesting.
Stalkerish. That’s what his behavior would be called.
“It’s creepy.”
“Shh, shut up,” he said, reaching around and smacking his friend on the shoulder. She batted him off and sipped from her icy.
“Admit it, it’s creepy.”
“Is not,” he said quietly.
“It is. You come down here every Friday, just to see her? I mean really, that’s creepy. You’re stalking her,” she said matter-of-factly, sitting back in her metal seat and crossing her legs, sipping coolly at her drink, of which he’d paid for. He gave her a withering look and she shrugged.
“I can’t help it. I don’t mean to be so creepy,” he said, flopping forward onto the table, chin in hand.
“You could just go and talk to her.”
He rolled his eyes. “And say what? ‘Hey, I’ve been watching you come down here every Friday for the last two months. Can I look at your sketchbook?’ Yeah, that’d go over great.”
“Or you could introduce yourself and display interest. Oh wait! Forgot. Men don’t do that, pft, what was I thinking?” she said, shaking her head and giving him a teasing look.
“Shut up. You just don’t know.”
“Nope.”
Silence stretched on between them. He leaned back, gasped and quickly ducked forward again, a hand pushing through his hair so that he could sink in further and hide his face. His friend looked at him questioningly and he just shrugged, cheeks ablaze. Her questions were answered soon enough as his Bohemian beauty strode past for a table, sketchbook tucked under her arm, drink in hand. She took a seat just out of earshot, still in the sun and the wind. A perfect view.
She looked back to her friend, who had switched hands and turned his fiery face in the other direction. She chuckled at him and he glared.
“I think it’s lemonade.”
“Shut up!” he hissed, kicking at her under the table. She laughed at his discomfort, but didn’t say anything else.
**
The week ticked by. He couldn’t wait for Friday evening. Every day was a different thought. What color would she wear? What style would she go with? Would she put anything in her hair? Really, they were awful thoughts, but he couldn’t help himself, however strange it was.
“What’s got you so distracted?”
He looked up to see his manager staring at him curiously. He blushed and shrugged. “Sorry, just thinking.”
His manager frowned a little. “Make any sales?”
He blinked and looked around the empty shop. “Umm…a couple.”
The manager nodded. “Well, see if you can meet your goal today. Oh, and the front display needs straightened up,” he said, and he walked away, likely to his office to do who knew what.
He sighed and grabbed a duster, marching to the front of the shop and straightening a few things out. Really, it was fine. They’d only had five people in total, but the manager was always trying to place the blame of low sales on his underpaid employees.
He sighed again and let his mind wander. Was it really that obvious? He was always thinking about his pier sketch-artist, but hadn’t realized it showed. Glancing at the clock he was relieved to see his shift was almost over. Another Friday night spent on the dock, watching her draw, sitting there in the wind and the sunset. Just thinking about it made the wait seem worth it.
Five minutes to, the manager came rushing out of his office, looking harried and frustrated. “Hey, I need you to stay an extra hour or so.”
It was like a dark shadow closed over his shiny happy mood and crushed his dreams. “What?”
“Sorry, but something came up. I just need you to watch the place until I get back. I’ll give you time and a half for it. Should only be an hour,” he said and hurried out, not even waiting for a response.
An hour? An entire hour that he had to wait, sitting in the stupid shop, watching the sunset through the window, thinking about the boho princess on the lake. It sucked. Slowly, one hour turned into two and two into three. When the manager strode back into the empty shop he didn’t stay for thank-yous and apologies, clocking out and running to his car.
For a clunker it raced down town pretty quickly. He zipped it into a parking spot and barely had it off as he hurried to the usual place. The pier was nearly empty, the sun just about set, and when he turned the corner…she wasn’t there.
Even he had to admit how absolutely ridiculous his sudden melancholy was. It wasn’t like he knew her, or was coming to meet her, but for some reason it was like the whole week had been a complete waste. The thought of going through another one without his little bit of sunshine was the most depressing thought in the world.
He sighed and visibly slumped, looking around the empty pier and moping over to his usual sea. None of it was the same. The sunset wasn’t as beautiful, its reflection off the bay not nearly as lustrous, the wind stale and plain.
It all just sucked. A lot.
A soft giggle had him jumping and he turned to see the key to absolute happiness standing there, smiling softly, stars at her back. It was glorious. He blushed.
“Waiting for me?” she asked. Her voice was like music, pure auditory silk. The sun was no match for her smile, the water nothing compared to the deep lakes that were her eyes.
“Uh…I, uh…sorry, umm…”
She giggled again and a butterfly somewhere fluttered its wings for the first time.
“I’ve been waiting for you, too.”
Time stopped. “Huh?”
She laughed and wandered over, taking a seat beside him on the concrete banister. Up close she was even more beautiful than he’d imagined. “I see you every Friday. You usually sit at that table there, next to the snack stand. But you weren’t there today. I can’t deny I was a little disappointed,” she said, gently thumbing the edge of her notebook.
He blushed. “I…had to work…late,” he stumbled.
She just continued to smile. “Yeah, I thought it might be that.”
He sighed and stared in disbelief. “I’m sorry.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion. “For what?”
Cheeks ablaze, he scratched the back of his neck nervously. “For watching you. And being weird.”
She laughed then and the appeared stars seemed to burst with life. “Don’t be silly. I’ve been watching you, too.”
As the final stars shone, he finally learned her name.
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