Rosalie

Rosalie took that breath people take before interrupting silence. She exhaled and took that breath again. She turned sitting to her left on the park bench. “I’m sorry. But you look very familiar.”

The man paused before speaking. “It’s very possible you’ve seen me before,” he said as he folded up his tabloid.

Rosalie had already thought this man to be handsome in a mysterious, foreboding way. It would certainly make sense if such a catch was some big celebrity whose image saturated all the pop culture she hadn’t bothered to notice. Surely, a celebrity. “And where might I have seen you before?”

“Oh, here and there. Out on your daily routine,” replied the man. He tucked the magazine under his arm and slid his hands into the pockets of his black Levi’s.

Rosalie blushed. The sunglasses, the Dodgers cap – big shot sports star.

Should she push the topic of celebrity? Or would he be more comfortable with talking about the weather? Maybe sports? Rosalie’s brother used to live out west and he still talked baseball – she could talk about the Dodgers. Perfect. “Can’t believe we have to watch Barry Bonds for another year,” she said, repeating one of her brother’s more common baseball musings.

The man turned his head to face Rosalie. “Hmm?” he growled.

“You know. The Dodgers. Battle of the Bay.” She pointed to the L.A. emblazoned on his ball cap.

“Oh. I don’t have much time for football,” he replied.

Of course. Silly Rosalie. No time for sports, tabloid magazine, from L.A. – must be Hollywood. Surely, this man was hiding the face of a movie star behind his scruff and shades. Probably growing out that beard for an upcoming role or maybe to hide his identity. Without that clever disguise he’d be swarmed by flocks of screaming girls. Hell, with his suave demeanor, he’d have women swarming him.

Aside from turning his head and folding his paper, he had not yet moved. Rosalie seemingly tried to make up for it by shifting posture with every breath, straightening her hem, readjusting her purse, putting her hands between her knees, under her armpits, beneath her butt. This man and his mysteries had her tickled.

“What brings you to this park?”

“The same thing that brings me here every day.”

Rosalie unpacked her celery and peanut butter but did not eat it. “And what might that be?”

“These sights. You know, the birds, the bees.” The man turned to look straight ahead again.

Rosalie found this cute. “Every day, you come to watch the wildlife?” She thought this man was quite remarkable.

“Well, there are other things I suppose. The people getting into taxis, waiting at the bus stops. And of course all the pretty ladies,” he paused, “like yourself.”

Rosalie blushed. Maybe not a sports star or movie icon, but this man was a romantic and sweetheart. She giggled and looked away to hide her reddening cheeks. He turned to look at her again.

“Don’t hide your pretty face,” he said. “I’ve been waiting a long time to see it up close.”

Rosalie didn’t quite understand and wanted to change the conversation so she wouldn’t get embarrassed again. “You come here often?”

“Every weekday,” he responded. Rosalie thought perhaps he was rich and didn’t have to work.

“That’s nice.”

“Much nicer than the last place. There was no park there; I had to sit in my van.”

Rosalie wasn’t sure what he was talking about. She now knew he wasn’t rich. She nervously began spreading the peanut butter on her celery. “And where was the ‘last place’?” she asked.

“You know it well.” The man scratched his scraggly beard and stared at her peanut butter and celery.

“I’m not sure I do. I haven’t been in the area long, only two months. I used to live in Kansas but had to move out here when I changed jobs.” said Rosalie. The man remained staring at her celery. There was an awkward pause in the conversation so she held up her lunch to offer him a share.

Distracted, he replied, “No thank you. Peanut butter sticks to my mouth.” He finally looked away from her tin lunch box. “I think you’re pretty and I’ve been watching you.”

Rosalie was mildly creeped out, but couldn’t help but blush. He wasn’t a rich celebrity, but he was paying attention to her in this strange new landscape of concrete and metal. “Really? How long have you been fancying me?” She substituted fancying for watching since it sounded mildly less weird.

“A few months now.”