Lisa Schroeder - The Bridge from You to Me

Her eyes get big. “You’ve never had a Bugle? You are missing out. Forget potato chips, these are the best snack food around.”

“Yeah? So, are you waiting until you get home to tear that bag open?”

“I guess I could let you have one, but I’m not sure I should be handing out my Bugles to strange guys in parking lots.”

“Oh man, I haven’t introduced myself, have I? Sorry. I’m Colby. Senior, like you.” I hold my hand out. She frees up her right hand by putting everything in the left and shakes mine.

“Good to meet you, Colby.” She moves over to the curb near my truck and sits down. “Might as well open them now and show you what you’ve been missing. Nice truck, by the way.”

“Thanks.” I take a seat next to her. “Nice bike, by the way.”

She looks at me like I’ve just insulted her. “Maybe if I was ten.”

“No,” I tell her, setting the bag of bread down next to me. “I’m serious. I like it. The thing is, when you ride a bike, it’s like a two-for-one. You get some exercise and you get yourself somewhere.”

She rips the bag open and starts putting the funnel-shaped munchies on her fingers. She turns and paws at the air. “Food and wicked claws. How’s that for a two-for-one?”

“Okay, now I really want to try one of these.”

She hands me the bag, and I take one and pop it in my mouth.

“Delicious, right?” she says before she sticks a claw in her mouth and eats it.

I look her in the eyes. “Thanks to you, I think my life is complete now.”

“Yep. I know. Hey, you want to trade my bike for your truck? Two-for-one, just like you said.”

I grimace as I get to my feet. My legs are killing me. “That’s a really nice offer, but I think I get enough exercise.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

“At the convenience store, buying Bugles?”

“Yep. Pretty much. Stupid small town.”

“Think of it this way,” I say as I walk toward my truck. “If it weren’t small, I probably wouldn’t have met you today.”

She laughs. “And your life would have continued to be incomplete?”

“Exactly.”

I drive home thinking about Lauren.

The way her eyes sparkled when she smiled.

The sound of her laugh.

The easy way we talked, without one mention of football.

There’s a creek party coming up this Saturday, and I realize I should have told Lauren about it. Invited her to come along. It’d be a chance for her to meet people, maybe make a friend or two before school starts. I almost turn around to see if I can find her and her blue bicycle, which probably wouldn’t be too hard, but I want to get the bread home to Gram, like I promised.

When I pull up to our house, Benny’s motorcycle is parked in the street, and he’s sitting on my front porch. Waiting for me, apparently.

“Didn’t I spend enough time with you today?” I ask him.

“I need your help.”

Benny is a big guy, with muscles like boulders. Looking at him, you wouldn’t think he’d need help with anything.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s my mom’s birthday.” He reaches behind him and grabs a grocery bag he was hiding. “Can you help me whip up a cake?”

It makes me laugh. “Whip up a cake? What, do I look like Rachael Ray? Also, why in the hell didn’t you just buy one? Isn’t it a little late to be doing this now?”

He stands up. “Nah. We got time. We aren’t eating dinner until eight. And she doesn’t like store-bought cakes. Hates ’em, as a matter of fact. It’s the frosting, I think. So I thought I’d make her an angel food cake. I even bought some strawberries to go with it.”

“All right. Come on. Let’s see if Gram is willing to share her kitchen with two sorry-ass chefs like us.”

Gram and Grandpa are sitting in the family room, working on a crossword puzzle they set up on a card table.

“Gram, I got your bread. And Benny’s wondering if he can borrow our kitchen to make his mom an angel food cake.”

“Fine with me,” she says. “I’ve got a roast in the slow cooker, but the oven is free. Do you want me to help you?”

“Nah,” Benny says. “I don’t want to put you out. We’ll be okay. I even bought the right kind of pan, since I wasn’t sure if you had one or not.”

“That’s real sweet of you, Benny,” Gram says. “I’m sure your mother is going to love it.”

“If we don’t burn the thing,” I mumble.

“Knock it off, Pynes. We are going to make the best-looking cake you’ve ever seen.”

“Judith, you should find these boys some aprons,” Grandpa says. “Pretty ones with lots of ruffles. And be sure to get a picture — I bet the Valley Times would love to see what some of the Eagle football players do in their spare time.”

“Don’t tease them, Hank,” Gram says. “It’s not nice.”

“Yeah, just tease Benny, Grandpa.”

Benny drops the grocery bag and attempts to put me in a headlock, but I wriggle away before he gets the chance.

We’re both laughing as I grab the bag and head for the kitchen. “Come on, big guy,” I say. “Let’s do this thing.”

The kitchen smells amazing, with the roast cooking away, and my stomach rumbles. I set the bread I bought at Jiffy Mart along with Benny’s grocery bag on the counter before I take out the cake mix and pan. I read the instructions and say, “Well, what do you know. It looks to me like you picked the easiest cake ever. We just have to add water to the mix and that’s it.” I look at him. “Why’d you come here? You could have done this by yourself.”

He shrugs. “This way, if we somehow screw up the easiest cake ever, I can blame you.”

I pull a bowl out of the cupboard. “You’re such a good friend, Ben.”

“I know it.”

“You do realize I’m gonna have to follow you home when it’s done, right? Unless you bought a special cake carrier for your motorcycle while you were at the store too.”

He slaps himself upside the head. “Dang. I didn’t think about that. You’re right. But I’m guessing you don’t have anything better to do tonight. Hey, you can even come in and have some cake with us. Ma would like that.”

I have to say, I do love strawberry shortcake.

“Twist my arm.”