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Tight Jeans
By Helene KwongWritten July 18, 2008Tight, skinny jeans: that was the first thing I noticed about the guy when he first startedcoming to my bakery a few weeks ago. His jeans looked so tight that I thought perhaps hecouldn’t breathe “down there”. Yet he walked around comfortably in those jeans with noawkward step in his stride. He had a boyish charm to his face, a cute smile, and a light hint of cologne. He wore the same hat every time, a striped red and white hat, and a bandanna aroundhis neck. I indeed felt charmed by the young man on that first day.Seeing him visit the store every day afterwards, I began to wonder if he in fact foundsomething intriguing about me as well. After all, who could not resist the smells of the local bakery? Yet, every day, I would find him coming into the store at exactly 9 o’clock sharp,requesting for the sticky buns and coffee special. He never stuck around long enough for me tocatch him for a small chat, so I would always feel unfulfilled after his visit.One day, I could not stand the suspense between us any longer. I decided, instead of  bringing him his order and giving him his change and saying “Thank you, come again,” I wouldactually stuff my words into that tiny timeframe to get a chance to talk with him. I breathed indeeply and began to speak.“So, are you a local around here?”He looked up from his leather wallet, a look of surprise at the fact that I actually saidmore than the few requisite words to him. He blinked for a moment, looking as if he forgot howto talk, and then smiled his boyish smile.“Ah, not exactly.”“Oh, really? Where are you from?”
© 2008 Helene Kwong. All rights reserved. Reproduction, redistribution, or any other form of unauthorized methods without theauthor’s consent are strictly prohibited. For more works by the author, please visithttp://www.helenekwong.com/
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I felt my curiosity level grow at this point since this was something new to me. Healways seemed to walk into the store with a confident air about him, as if he knew the city well,and that he only recently stumbled upon my humble bakery. This certainly changed my viewsabout him.But, before he could reply to my second question, my curiosity and excitement wasquashed by a couple of customers approaching the counter. It was the morning rush after all, sothe usual men and women in suits came in at that point in the morning to order their extra tallcoffees and the cherry pie croissant. The guy in the tight jeans stood aside to allow the other customers to place their orders, and he stood there for a few seconds before he tipped his cap atme and waved. “Well, I guess I will see you tomorrow again, then?” Then, he walked out,holding his coffee in his left hand.I watched him as he walked out the door and almost lost focus on the incoming ordersuntil a woman in a blue suit literally snapped me out of my thoughts. “Where’s my coffee?” sheasked, as she tapped her right foot impatiently. “Oh, just a second,” I said, feeling a littledefeated for the day. However, as the day wore on, I realized that I had at least made some progress in opening up the lines of communication with the guy. He at least now knew that Icould say more than a few words to him, and that I acknowledged him as more than just “thatguy that comes in for the special every day”.Was it the start of something? I couldn’t help but agonize over things that night,wondering about what we could develop over the course of time. He interested me to the pointthat I craved seeing him even more the next day. After all, we could talk about so many thingsthe next day; for instance, where he was from, why he was visiting the city of Glendale, and soforth.
© 2008 Helene Kwong. All rights reserved. Reproduction, redistribution, or any other form of unauthorized methods without theauthor’s consent are strictly prohibited. For more works by the author, please visithttp://www.helenekwong.com/
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Morning arrived, and the next day became today. I woke up, feeling excited to go to theshop, open up, and wait for the guy in the tight jeans and striped cap to show up. Those were theonly two things I could really think about to identify him; I didn’t even know his name at that point—shame! But, I felt I would soon find out, since we were to talk more that day.To my surprise, as I approached the bakery to open up, I saw him standing outside of theshop by the newspaper stand. He stood there leaning against the newspaper stand, looking cooland calm as usual, smoking a cigarette. He had not seen me yet, since he was staring at theground, concentrating on something imaginary there. I approached lightly, and then came into hissight of view. He looked up at me and smiled at the surprise. “Ah, I was waiting for you to openshop,” he said.I smiled back at him, and then looked down at my watch. It was only 7 o’ clock—actuallya bit too early for him to arrive. But I certainly did not mind; this would give us more time to talk and get to know each other better. The first couple of hours in the morning were always slowanyway, so I really relished the thought of us having that time to ourselves to talk.“What brings you to the bakery so early today?”“Ah, well, today I am actually heading back down south to go back to school. I justwanted to come by earlier so I could pick up some pastries for my girlfriend since she’s athome sick.”“Ah, oh.”I felt my heart sink.He put out his cigarette and continued to lean against the newspaper stand while Iunlocked the front door with shaky hands. My hands were still shaking a little as I tried tocontain myself in front of him. Well, of course he would have someone already—after all,
© 2008 Helene Kwong. All rights reserved. Reproduction, redistribution, or any other form of unauthorized methods without theauthor’s consent are strictly prohibited. For more works by the author, please visithttp://www.helenekwong.com/
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ob1_kenobi56

that was really good. i liked it :)

reply04 / 01 / 2009
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