Strangely Turquoise

Mike pulled himself off the couch at about three in the afternoon. He’d worked an early morning shift at the coffee house and had another one the next morning. After lunch, he’d gotten the best three hours of sleep he’d had in almost a week, uninterrupted by his roommate, Charlie, who was out but hadn’t specified where.

Mike showered and brushed his teeth quickly, pulling clothes off the floor and tugging them onto his still-damp body. On his way towards the front door of the small apartment he grabbed the scattered belongings he considered important and dropped them into an old black backpack. House keys, wallet, cell phone, second-hand copy of an Ernest Hemingway novel, pencil, pen, and a red spiral notebook.

The last two things he grabbed on the way out, both of them sitting right next to the door, were the leather jacket that had belonged to his father and his accordion.

He turned the key in the lock behind him, feeling the bolt throw into place. He tapped the elevator button over and over, as if that would bring the elevator faster, and, holding his accordion in one hand at a time, he shrugged his long arms into the jacket.

He played the accordion on street corners for spare change. He set out a small cardboard box that he carried around in his backpack and hoped for coins out of people’s pockets that he’d later sort out and turn in for paper cash. He made a decent amount. It was his regular coffee house salary that paid his share of the low rent, and his accordion money went to his savings account.

He walked to his favorite corner for playing the accordion and set himself up against a stone building. Crouching, he began to play.

He knew a few pieces by heart, but most of the time he just improvised. His father had taught him to play and when he moved east across the country, he left Mike with the leather jacket and his accordion. Sure, Mike was upset that his father had left him, his sister and his mother. But it could have been worse. All his sister Janie got was a Hallmark card.

The song he played now was more or less lively. It was upbeat compared to usual for him. He was well rested, well fed, and in a rare good mood.

He didn’t know how long he’d been playing when he saw Charlie approaching. He didn’t stop playing as his best friend came closer, only slowed down as Charlie began to speak.

“I’ve set you up a date for tonight,” Charlie said.

“Hello to you too,” Mike replied dryly.

“Carrie’s cousin moved to town a week or two ago and we’re going on a double date tonight. I already told Carrie you’d come.”

“You know I work early tomorrow. I can’t go out tonight.”

“You’ll manage. Dinner’s at six thirty,” Charlie told him.

It was practically decided there. Mike could argue all he wanted, but his roommate was far more stubborn than he was.

Mike sighed. “Unless we’re going to McDonald’s you’d better be able to cover me. I’m a little broke at the moment.”

“You’re never broke. I know you’re sitting on a nicely cushioned bank account.” Upon seeing Mike’s glare, Charlie amended, “All right, I’ll cover you.”

He paused and looked at Mike, sitting against the wall and easily working the instrument in his hands. His friend hardly ever left the apartment except to go to work. He preferred to sit home and read, for whatever reason. But Charlie knew Mike enjoyed himself when he did get out. It was starting to worry him. He didn’t want Mike to spend every night alone.

“You know,” he began, “you should try smiling. And play that lively stuff again. I’ll see you at home before six.”

Charlie strode away and Mike rolled his eyes, picking up the pave of his song. He noticed a few moments later that a man was leaning against a pillar nearby, his arms crossed and his eyes set on Mike’s accordion.

Mike studied him. A little taller, hair a shade darker and tat make could have been Mike’s father. His eyes were set a little too wide and his nose was rounder at the end, but the basics were all right.

Slowly, the man pushed himself away from the pillar and came closer, dropping a handful of change into the tape-covered cardboard box.

Mike watched as the man walked away down the street. That’s how he noticed the gaggle of college-aged girls heading his way, holding shopping bags.

As he watched, one of them broke away from the group. She was carrying only one small bag from a store he often passed. Her hair was wheat blonde, her eyes were strangely turquoise and she was grinning attractively. She stepped closer to him than her friends were walking and danced by, dropping coins into his box.

He livened the music even more and she danced for a moment, jumping and twisting, all the while grinning wildly. He blew out through his nose, and I-want-to-but-I-can’t sort of laugh, shaking his head. The girl’s friends were collapsing over each other with giggles.

She rejoined them and as they all strode away, she glanced back once and smiled. HE almost grinned back.

Mike shoved open the front door two minutes before six. Charlie was standing there in the hallway, wearing a collared shirt with the top two buttons undone and fitted jeans.

“You’re late,” he said tersely.

“You said six,” Mike sighed, placing his accordion down gently in the doorway.

“I said before six,” Charlie corrected.

Mike checked his watch. “I still have one minute.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes. Go take a shower and put on a clean shirt.”

Mike did as his roommate told him and the two of them left in Charlie’s old car only a couple minutes late.

The restaurant that Charlie had picked was a nice one that Mike had been to once or twice. Their best dishes were all seafood, though they did serve good burgers. As the two young men sat down, Mike was already thinking about what to order.

They waited five minutes, perhaps fewer, before the girls arrived. Charlie nudged Mike’s arm and he looked up to see Carrie, whom he recognized, and another girl following close behind.

His eyes met hers, and without tearing his gaze away from the strangely turquoise orbs, he leaned into Charlie.

“Is that her?” he asked. Charlie nodded.

The boys stood and Mike kissed Carrie’s cheek before turning his full attention to his date.

“I’m Mike,” he said, holding out his hand for her to take.

“I’m Annabelle.” Her hand was soft in his. “And you play the accordion.”

Her strangely turquoise eyes seemed to glow.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I do.”

And for the first time in days, his lips spread into a smile.

AN: I wrote this really really quickly. feedback please, and all that stuff.