"Where are you going baby? Do you need car?" Mom asks.

"No."

I don't want to trouble Ed. He dropped off guest after guest until late night. Sam was the first to leave, I guess he was bit overwhelmed with the party crowd. When we came back to the lawn after our hide out, he was not himself. I would have preferred for us both to stay out in my lawn room, but Lydi would have been upset. It was her party. I don't think she'll have another engagement party in this lifetime.

I chuckle at the thought. Francis has signed off his life to her whether he knows it or not.

"Wear a cap, it's windy." Mom's voice sails from the couch.

"No, I'm good. Bye, mom." I started disliking caps. They don't fall away easily like beanies. But then beanies are also not that good when it comes to making Sam touch my hair.

When I don't wear any head wear, he keeps fussing over my hair. Running his fingers in such soft strokes. You would think my hair is made of delicate fur. It is not. It's thick and rough. Yet he does not mind weaving his hand in my head. I'm kind of addicted to it.

Walking out, I'm met with the first hit of the cold wind. Lifting my head, I welcome the crisp bite of it. I should check our hereditary, maybe I've some Alaskan gene, that makes me enjoy cold weather. The memory of Sam whining about freezing threatens to stretch my lips upwards, it's not good for me to smile when I walk alone. Mom says it'd be creepy. But thinking of Sam always makes me smile and I don't seem to stop thinking about him.

I touch my walking stick on the cafe door to make sure that I'm there and open it. Freshly baked muffins smell greet me.

"Niz?" I call out when I reach the counter. I've known Niz all my life. He's an excellent baker and a stubborn man who refused to speak proper English.

"Good morning. You mizzedu 'im."

It's afternoon, close to three. But Niz always said morning. "Missed who?"

"Yor man. Here. Wand muffi'?"

A paper is thrust in my hand. "Yes."

I take the closest table and finger the paper. It's a cover. Nothing on it that I can read. It's not sealed. I open it and a familiar texture sends a surprise wave.

Card-stock paper.

Sam wrote a letter to me? In braille?

The thrill makes my fingers fumble. I keep the sheet on the table and take a deep breath. A clang sound confirms my muffin's arrival.

"Thanks Niz."

He grunts.

I take the paper and spread it on the table. My finger tips travel faster as I read.

I read it again and again. He misspelled in some places. But they're easy to ignore. He wrote it. For me. The best gift.

I gingerly lift it and smell. Fresh paper, he must have bought it at Warner's store. I wish he had scented it with his perfume. I wish I had given my number. I wish we had fucked, not just yesterday, the whole week.

Fuck you, Erin. Fuck you and your insecurities.

Our first meeting was right here. His voice was as sweet as honey, as rusty as dried wood plank. I liked it instantly. I liked his easy, honest way of talking.

If there's one thing I've learned from my past, it's that people don't like you back just because you like them. I've had my share of crushes, who weren't even comfortable to talk with me. I've learned to find fault in them to save my heart. That's why I removed my glasses that first day, it had scared a lot many people in the past.

Lydi says my eyes are the scariest part of my personality. I wanted to scare Sam, I thought he'd find some excuse and leave the table. I thought he was like all other men. But he surprised me.

I remember his first touch. His fingers gripped my wrist to stop me from wearing my glasses back. He had done the same thing so many times afterwards, but that first time is special. His first contact with me, the surprise of having a stranger touch me, the surprise that he was ready to talk with me without hiding my eyes, it still makes me smile.

I loved how he described himself. People usually say, I'm blonde, my eyes are black, my lips are red or yellow, my skin is fair. I don't know why the heck they think it matters to me.

But Sam didn't use any color. He said things I could relate. Short cropped hair, long nose, mouth that's the devil's lure. Oh, what a lure it is. The devil must be proud.

That night I came again to the cafe and interviewed Niz.

"How did he look?"

"Shart to you. Tall to me."

"What else?"

"Black eyez, brown hair. Linez from eyez when laugh."

"Tell me more, Niz."

"What more. Me think. Hiz handzame. Beauty smiles. Yeah. No body. Thin."

"Was he kind looking? Would you marry your daughter to him?" You should know what to ask while talking with Niz, if not you won't get anything useful.

"Huh. Yas. He look yor bad eyez without feyar. Hiz kind I say. Will be patient lik a papa to my baby."

Slightly shorter than me, kind and patient, full of laugh lines. Niz was spot on with all his observations. Except one. Sam is thin only when compared to Niz. Sam has hard muscles, I know. I've touched some of them. I dreamt about touching them all today.

Now, I can only dream.

He has left.

Without giving me a chance to say goodbye. I didn't get to give him a parting gift where as he has given me an incredible one. A letter. The best gift ever.