I'll Be Here

almost done too.  I guess now it’s all about getting  through the home stretch.” 
    God.  Did I just use a baseball euphemism?
    Alex steps closer to my desk and the fabric of his jeans brushes against the wood veneer.  Using his fingertips, he traces the edge of my computer monitor and gently bites his bottom lip.  “Ready for the next big adventure?”
    His increased closeness does weird things to my pulse. 
    “Something like that.”
    “So…”  That shy smile slowly creeps back across his face. 
    “So…”  I smile back this time.
    “Are you doing—”
    Alex  jumps back about six inches when Smirna bursts through the office door.  Before she’s even crossed the threshold, she starts complaining loudly about the bank teller. 
    My brain is frantically sorting through Alex’s words but I come up with no answers.  Was he going to ask me what my plans are for later?  Would that imply some level of interest in me?  Or that he wants to be part of my plans?  Ack!  Or maybe he was going to ask me something about college?  That’s probably more realistic.  But then again he was smiling that cute smile of his…
    Smirna quiets when she sees that we are not alone.  She settles into her desk chair, stowing the blue money pouch in the bottom left drawer.  As she brings her computer back to life she cuts a suspicious glance at Alex and then at me which I think he takes as his cue to leave. 
    At the door he pauses momentarily like he’s going to say something more but he must think better of it because he just gives me a slight wave before letting the door swing shut behind him. 
    Smirna is staring at her computer screen murmuring something else about the bank teller but I don’t hear her because my ears are straining to listen to the footsteps disappearing down the hall. 
    The blood whooshing through my veins hisses a word and it’s Alex. 
    Alex Faber.
    ***
    “Shit.”  A bouquet of dead hairs sticks up from the beveled edge of the porcelain white sink. 
                “Shit.”  This is me repeating myself in case my reflection misunderstood my earlier sentiments. 
                Mom knocks once on the bathroom door.  “Everything okay sweetie?”
                I’m quiet for too long and she jiggles the doorknob.  When she calls to me through the door, I can hear an edge of panic in her voice.  “Willow!”
    “Uh—yeah,” I take another look at my reflection and squeeze my eyes tight.  I try to make my voice sound as normal as possible.  “I’m fine.”
                There’s a gap of silence and then I hear a soft sigh from the other side of the door.  It’s like water rushing into the shore. 
    “Okay… I’m taking Aaron with me to the grocery store.  Just call my cell if you need me or think of anything that you want.  Jake’s getting home around six tonight and we’ll do dinner and maybe something fun.  As a family. ” 
                “Uh-huh.”  I hear her muffled steps disappear down the hall.  My fingers are still wrapped around the blue handled kitchen scissors.  I place them down on the tiled sink counter with a shaky hand and brave another look. 
    “Shit.”  This time it’s barely a whisper. 
                Okay.  This is what happened.
    When I emerged from behind my closed bedroom door this morning, I couldn’t find mom or Aaron anywhere and just assumed they’d gone over to visit Frank Wallace.  Frank lives a few doors down and last week he suffered a slipped disc from a kiteboarding incident.  Mom’s been checking up on him. 
    I leaned back against the counter and chewed on a bran muffin and Friday night and the Alex debacle from yesterday and just my general state of internal disarray started to become more real with each bite.  My insides started zinging and I felt like I was a cloud moving across the blue sky.  I wanted to grab onto to something to just stop myself from moving.  I needed something to shock my system.  A change .  
                That’s when I dropped the half-eaten muffin on a plate, grabbed the kitchen scissors and came in here.
    It was one of those moments when you do before you think. 
                Bangs.
                Now I have them.  Thick and chunky across my forehead.  It registers that look about five years old.  Actually, I think the last time that I had bangs I was five years