Page 72 of Late Fees

Wyatt

1996

I still hated Daylight Savings time with a passion. Especially the Monday after Daylight Savings Time. Class seemed impossible. But this year…this year, I was embracing it. I was savoring it. And I was bound and determined to bring Tilly right along with me, to bring her back to the day we watched the sunset together.

I had to ride two different buses from my dorm to get to the nearest 7-Eleven. It was off-campus and a little out of the way, but I didn’t care.

Since moving to Norway, I hadn’t had a Slurpee. Not one. Some of my Norwegian friends had taken me to a local restaurant that offered shaved ice drinks that were similar to a Slurpee. And although cherry cola flavor was an option, I opted for raspberry lemonade instead because I didn’t want to drink that combination without Tilly.

I also hadn’t had a peanut butter cup, despite the fact that my mother had found a corner store that sold them just a few blocks from our house. Every time she bought them, trying to give us a taste of home, I left them in the pantry for the rest of the family to enjoy. Because for me, they would taste like the memories that Tilly and I made.

But after seeing her again and knowing deep in my gut that there was still a chance that I could win her back, I was finally ready to taste those combinations again. To remember that night we walked for hours and held hands on that bench.

Filling up two large Slurpee cups with both Coke and cherry flavors, I bought two packages of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and headed to the cashier.

“Do you have anything I could use to keep these nice and cold? Like an ice pack or something?”

The owner bit down on his lip as he thought through my request. He put up one finger and nodded. “I have just the thing.”

He walked to the aisle with the Band-Aids and ointments and returned with a box. “I’ll give you a drink holder, and you can pop this ice pack and place it right between the two cups. It’s $2.99. Would you like to purchase it?”

“Perfect. Yes, thank you.”

Riding back to campus, I managed to keep both cups chilled as the bus dropped me off a block from Spotlight Video. When I’d picked up Tilly for our cup of coffee, one of the employees had left the schedule out on the counter, and I had seen her schedule for the week. Resisting the nagging feeling that I was acting like a stalker, I decided to use that information to my advantage.

Besides, stalkers don’t buy gifts for the objects of their affection.

Oh, shit, do they?

Tilly’s shift would start in fifteen minutes. And I had just enough time to drop off her drink and candy and still get across campus to get to my next class for the day. I’d be cutting it close, but it was worth it. I only wished that I could see her face when she saw what I’d left her.

Thanking the bus driver, I hopped off and hustled to the video store. One of the Slurpees was starting to melt a bit from the top, and its cup was sweating profusely. As I walked, I pushed the ice pack closer to the cup.

“Stay strong, little buddy.”

Yes, I am talking to a Slurpee. Don’t judge.

Pushing open the door, the familiar bell above my head rang, and a beautiful girl with brown hair welcomed me. She reminded me a little bit of Rachel from Friends…or maybe it was just her haircut. Another guy who looked a little like one of the doctors on E.R. asked if he could help me.

Does everyone who works here look like a character from a TV show?

I approached the desk, placing one Slurpee and one package of Reese’s Peanut Butter cups on the counter.

“I’m just dropping these off for Tilly.”

The girl smiled. “Oh, that’s nice.”

The E.R. guy did not share her reaction. He stared at me stone-faced and pushing his lips out in annoyance. “Tilly’s not here.”

“Right, but she is coming in. Isn’t she?”

Please tell me she’s coming in and this drink won’t melt before she gets to taste it.

His jaw ticked as he swallowed hard. “Right.”

“We’ll give them to her. I can put the drink in the fridge.”

“That’s fine. I got it, Marley,” the guy said. As he reached to grab the cup and package from the counter, the name tag that hung from his lanyard dragged across the wood.

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