Balconial Conversations

Chapter 18: Caroline

I drop a dozen nectarines carefully into my mesh farmer’s market bag and nearly drop half onto the sidewalk.

I mumble curses, winding the top of the bag around my wrist before checking out the cantaloupes.

My mother loves melons, but I don't feel like carrying one several blocks back to the apartment, and I'm too broke for a cab. The bananas are entirely green, so I just pay for the nectarines and step back onto the sidewalk.

I hold the thin robe handles of the bag between my teeth and fish through my pockets for earbuds. My mouth is suddenly dry and disgusting, and I make a face, taking it out again, hoping no one saw my childish reaction.

People walk past with purposeful strides, hopeful gaits and slouched sighs. The college kids wear sunglasses, backpacks and stressed out expressions. High school kids stroll past with childish abandon. Adults walk home from a long day at the office or the diner with worn down smiles and long coats against the fall breeze.

My mother is probably still working; Cam is likely out with Caroline.

It surprised me how much I was affected by learning about her. The white-hot ball of restrained jealousy seared my lower belly, and I was instantly curious.

Why? I couldn't say. I don't quite want Cam for myself. I'm not a good girlfriend, or so I'm told, and he can't possibly be a good boyfriend.

I mean, Cam Aromantic de Luca? Not a good choice.

I hear her apologetic murmur before I register the jolt. Someone walked into my shoulder; most Haligonians would probably just keep walking. I turn to her.

She's beautiful in a soft way. Her hair is a nice, brightly natural red, gathered into a bun, and she's pleasantly curvy, so much so that she must be older than I am. A few years, at least.

"I am so sorry. I was rushing and... yeah, I talk too much, I know," She says. The girl smiles and rolls her pale blue eyes before they get brighter. Teary, almost, beneath her delicately rimmed glasses. "I've been having a day."

"Oh... sorry about that," I tell her, pressing the crosswalk button again. She waits beside me, wiping mascara from beneath her eyes with blue sleeves.

"It's okay... I'm just dumb." She sighs, and I raise my eyebrows in sympathy. A boy, probably. "I... um, fell for the wrong guy."

"Oh?" I try to summon more sympathy, but really, I think that most girls know a bad boy is indeed a bad boy bey they go for it anyway. Except if he's a r****t or abuser, then he deserves the death penalty.

"Like, he's so nice as friends, you know? Then I went out with him, and I thought he liked me, but he didn't care. He's so gorgeous though, and smart and funny and when I went back to my place with him I thought it meant..."

"He used you?"

"No... I just didn't understand."

"Sorry."

"Yeah."

"I'm Caroline, by the way. Caroline Armstrong."

"Um, Katherine." Then the light turns green as we separate with a smile.

Her name is Caroline, and she has soft red hair and wire frame glasses.

Oh, Cambriel.