Snowflakes In Autumn, 2b

It’s time for the second part of Chapter Two, which will take us to the halfway point in the chapter. Tomorrow, I’ll be back with a regular Coquetting Tarradiddles essay, which I’ll follow up with the latter half of the second chapter of Snowflakes In Autumn on Thursday and Friday.

I’ve reached a possibly permanent position concerning what I’m going to do with posting the rest of the novel, which I’ll clue you into within the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, I’ll be sticking to this format of one chapter a week, split into four parts and broken up with an essay mid-week.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go turn miniskirt purses into Super Mario overalls – but more on that tomorrow…

Snowflakes In Autumn
Chapter Two, Part Two

(click here to start at Chapter One, Part One)

Of course, the remote liquor store didn’t have the special Tanzanian vodka, but we did buy a couple of bottles of Erica’s favorite, top-shelf tequila. After that, we tried to find the vodka at another store, and then another, and another. And, as I drove us around to every liquor store in town on a futile quest to acquire the bizarre and arcane liquor that no one had ever heard of before (probably because I’d made it up), Erica grew more and more agitated.

“Look Connor,” she said. “Nobody has this Jumosi Kenwadey stuff you want, and people are probably already knocking on my door for the party.”

I shook my head. “Nah,” I replied. “They’d have to get past the buzzer first.”

“Smart ass. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, but Mitch is there. He can let them in. Besides, it’s called Jumamosi Kinywaji, and it’s the best Vodka you’ll ever taste.”

“So you keep telling me.”

“Did I mention that it’s imported?”

“About fifty times.”

“From Tanzania?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t even know where that is, Connor!” she shouted, making sure to drive home her annoyance by adding a few extra syllables to my name.

“I told you, it’s in Afri—”

“AND,” she interrupted, “I don’t care what’s so special about it. I just want to get home before my party starts without me!”

I glanced at my watch. Mitch wanted me to keep her out for at least an hour, and I still had fifteen minutes left. I slowed down and stopped at an intersection. Going right would take us back to her apartment. Turning left, however, would take us anywhere else. “Can we look at just one more place?” I begged. “Pretty please?”

She sighed and slumped back in her seat. “Fine,” she said. “But that’s it. No more!”

“Ok, thanks.” I turned left and said, “I know the guys at Miller’s. I think they might have it.”

“But that’s clear across town!”

As the minutes continued ticking by and I drove us to yet another liquor store in search of my imaginary vodka, her irritation and annoyance finally morphed into outright anger. Fortunately, it was just before she turned green and slipped into a full-on, gamma-irradiated rage when I finally received the call I was waiting for.

I flipped the phone open. “Hello?”

Mitch was on the other end of the line and whispering. “Hey, Connor!” he said, his hushed voice filled with conspiratorial delight. “I’m all set. Do you think Erica suspects anything?”

“No, nothing.” I said. “We’ve tried every store, but nobody’s ever even heard of it.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” he asked, confused and a little slow on the uptake.

“We’ve been driving all over town looking for that Tanzanian vodka I told you about, but nobody has it. I think we’re about to give up. It’s getting late.”

“Ooooooh,” he said. “I get it.”

Erica perked up and shot forward in her seat. “Is that Mitch?” she asked, her icy voice sliding the question towards more of an accusation.

“Yeah.”

“Ask him if anybody is there yet.”

I nodded. “Erica wants to know if the party started without her.”

He laughed on the other end of the line and said, “Yeah, tell her we’re having a blast!”

I cupped my hand over the phone and whispered to Erica. “He says ‘yeah, everybody’s already there and they keep asking where you are.’”

“WHAT?!” she yelled, jerking the phone from my hand and screaming into the receiver. “Mitch! We’re coming back right now. Make sure to put the chips out, and the dip I made is in the fridge. Go ahead and serve the beer and alcohol we already bought. It was good enough for the last party, so Connor can just suffer.”

“Hey!”

Without even giving him time to respond, she slapped the phone shut and turned on me with an awful glare. “We are going back. Right. Now.” It was not a request.

We drove back in silence, and I dropped her off outside of her building. “I’ll be back in a minute. I just want to try one more store.”

“Seriously?!” she said, before rolling her eyes and getting out of the car. She leaned back in, bracing herself against the open door and the car’s roof. “You’ve got issues, Connor. Let it go!” She slammed the door shut, turned around and stomped off.

I called Mitch to let him know that his she-beast was on her way up, then I drove into a parking space, got out a book and started waiting. About forty-five minutes and three chapters later, my cell phone rang again. It was Erica this time, only she identified herself as Mitch’s fiancée, and sounded very pleased with life. She apologized for getting upset with me, told me that she’d said yes, and demanded that I return to her apartment at once.

I told her that I’d never left the parking lot.

Continued in Chapter Two, Part Three

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