He was a nice boy.
Ada’s grandmother mentioned it the first time they had met him at the supermarket. Josh was bagging groceries and offered to carry their things out to the car despite the driving sheets of rain. They had recently moved into a leaky apartment rife with phantom drafts and covered in lead paint. The little kindness he had shown nearly brought tears to the old Irish lady’s rheumy eyes.
“That’s a nice boy, Ada.” Grandmother repeated, pulling out of the parking lot, “That’s the kind of boy you marry. A man like your grandfather.”
Ada shook her head, jutting out her jaw while suppressing a grin, “I’m only seventeen, Grandmother.”
“You wait and see. Things speed up in couple years and you’ll wake up one morning seventy years old.” Grandmother sighed at a red light, tucking her scarf into her coat, “It all goes by so fast.”
Like so many things her sentimental grandmother said, Ada tucked the moment into her heart for later. She was young and the thought of time moving quickly was a desirable prospect. If only she could fast forward through these last few months at a brand new school, graduate and get back to the city. Ada wished away the days like tossing pennies into a mall fountain.
Ada’s first autumn in the small town was maddeningly provincial. The school play was something by Lillian Hellman. The football team was mediocre and the stands at the games were far from packed. The most interesting event to occur was the local library’s 5K fundraiser that ended with Mayor Burgess hyperventilating after the first mile and needing to be transported by ambulance.
It was the day before Halloween that she saw him again. Peeking through the stacks of books in the Victorian style, brick building that was the town library, Ada paused at the R section. She retrieved a tome from the shelf and flipped through the musty pages.
A tap on her shoulder broke her concentration. Ada tugged out her earbud and peered up into Josh McLeavy’s broad, plain face. The crinkles around his hazel eyes deepened and he gestured to the book in her hands.
“Interview with a Vampire?” He grinned, “At least it isn’t Twilight.”
Ada’s brow furrowed, “What is wrong with Anne Rice?”
“Nothing.” Josh pursed his lips, “What are you listening to?”
Ada scoffed, “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“Not really,” He shrugged, “But it’s quiet today so I came to investigate.”
“Investigate what?”
“You.” He picked the bud off her shoulder, “Can I have a listen?”
Ada blinked, caught off guard by his presumptive attitude. She wet her full lower lip.
“It’s only Simon and Garfunkel.”
“Give me Mrs. Robinson any day.” He crowed, putting in the ear piece, “That’s a woman I'd adore forever.”
He met her eyes directly and her grandmother’s words repeated in her brain.
That’s a nice boy. That’s the kind of man you marry.
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