Over the summer, I walked past her every few days.
It was nothing more than a synchronicity of daily routine.
But as we became familiar with passing each other, soon it was accompanied by an acknowledging smile.
*
Without preamble, the next time I saw her I found myself saying Hey.
It came out perfectly; a perfect Hey – of which there is such a thing.
She stuck with the smile. But a smile is still a smile.
*
As summer continued, we passed each other more regularly, meeting eyes from a few flagstones away.
“Hi,” she said.
She had spoken to me, unprompted.
With that, there was no going back.
*
When I was younger, I used to practise playing music to the point that I no longer needed the manuscript in front of me, like an actor learning lines. I came to know how to apply just the right amount of breath, when to hit the right note.
In the same way, I had practised my casual greeting for weeks.
I said,
Hi,
Hello!
Hey,
to everyone I walked past all summer long, to wild animals and birds, to find the perfect delivery.
So, when I first said Hey to the girl I was well rehearsed, in pitch and poise.
But when I said Hi in reply to her Hi unprepared, I sounded like a pubescent seagull.
*
But bollocks. What’s the worst that can happen?
*
“Um, sorry,” I said before she passed me. “Would you like—”
Just as I started to engage, she started walking up the street towards us.
The same girl. The one who was standing in front of me was also approaching us.
It was like finding myself in a scene from an Italian novel.
“Uh . . . Hey,” I said to the second girl as she joined us.
“Oh, hello,” the first girl said. A perfect hello.
Perhaps she’d been practising.
She might have played an instrument as a child.
Maybe she still does.
She didn’t seem as surprised as I was to see herself standing next to her.
“This is my twin,” the first girl said, perhaps sensing my puzzlement, gesturing like a geisha to the other one of her.
“Oh.” I opened my hands out, as if presenting an invisible gown. “In that case” — if I’d been in doubt, I was all in now — “can I buy you both a drink?” I said, looking from one of them to another.
“Oh, yes,” said the first one.
“Could I please have a can of Lilt?” the second girl asked.
“Same,” the first girl added. She really did have a lovely pitch. They both did.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, ducking into the Co-op.
This couldn’t have gone better if I had planned it. Even though I sort of did plan it.
Lilt, though. I hadn’t seen a can of Lilt in years.
In the absence of their first choice, I picked them up a cartoon of pineapple juice and some soda water, certain that they’d be happy enough to make their own version of Lilt.
I should really have checked if they wanted any snacks. Maybe a pineapple to garnish their Lilt.
*
When I got back outside, there were three of them there. A third girl.
She didn’t look anything like the other two.
“Drink?” I asked her, handing the bottle of pineapple juice to the second girl and the soda to the first girl.
vss #71
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