Chapter Text
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Chapter 1 First Valentine’s Day
“And it’s me who’s too weak
and it’s me who’s too shy to ask for the thing I love
But I love, but I love, but I love”
Me, Paula Cole
“Wanna come back to mine and have a drink to celebrate our first successful Valentine’s Day at The Bear?” Syd asks as they finish locking up for the night, she’s looking at him with her big brown eyes and Carmy can’t say no.
“Sure,” he says, pocketing the key and following her to the L.
He’s never celebrated a successful first Valentine’s Day at a restaurant before. Successful openings or closings, sure. Never anything so randomly specific.
But Syd celebrates everything. National Iced Coffee Day. National Donut Day. The year anniversary of Cowboy Carter , the four-year anniversary of folklore . She drags him along with her with all these things, having him drink mediocre iced coffee from Dunkin Donuts while they split a box of Munchkins, or throwing a folklore- themed dinner, where she made him listen to the album for the umpteenth time while they ate key lime pie and charcuterie.
On the year anniversary of Cowboy Carter, she had him over for a barbecue with honey-sweetened sun tea, and homemade banana pudding to round out the pulled pork and Coca-Cola sauce.
So, he follows her to the L and her apartment. They walk and ride in comfortable silence, there’s not much to say. There are only so many times you can go over New York strip steak and strawberry lava cakes.
She kicks off her shoes, sheds her coat and her chef’s white, and puts on a Tom Waits album that he likes. This is what their relationship is marked by, food and music.
She goes to the fridge and pulls out lemons and limes, a bottle of seltzer water, bright pink syrup in a mason jar, and a jar of cherries.
“How do you feel about Shirley Temples,” she asks him, the first thing she’s said to him since she invited him to have a drink.
“Shirley Temples?” Carmy repeats. “I’ve never had one before.”
“They were my favorite when I was a little girl,” Syd says. “I’ve been trying to make a more elevated version of one for a while now, and I think I finally succeeded.”
Carmy smiles a little. “Did you invite me over to celebrate or test a recipe on me?”
Syd takes two funky glasses down from her cabinet and retrieves ice from her freezer. “A little bit of both. If tonight wasn’t a success, I’m not sure I would have invited you over.”
“Shirley Temples to celebrate,” Carmy says instead of acknowledging what she had said about possibly not inviting him over.
“You don’t drink at all, I don’t drink a lot.” Syd shrugs as she starts to juice lemons after rinsing them off. “When I was younger, Shirley Temples were always a mark of a celebration. Birthdays, the end of the school year.”
“Maybe we could add it to the mocktail section of the drink menu,” Carmy muses.
“Some sort of Shirley Temple would be good, yeah!” Syd agrees. “I wish I had thought about it sooner actually.”
“We could do yours,” Carmy suggests tentatively.
Syd just rolls her eyes and turns to the lemons. “You haven’t even tried it yet. It might suck .”
“But eventually you’re gonna get it right if it’s not right now ,” Carmy says as he goes over to her and rolls up his sleeves then washes his hands. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asks belatedly.
“Actually, I’m a little hungry. Do you mind making something to eat?” Syd asks.
“No problem,” Carmy replies as he goes to her fridge and rummages through it for ingredients, looking for inspiration. Her fridge is almost as bare as his own though and he’s at a loss of what to do.
“I haven’t had a chance to go food shopping,” she says like she’s reading his mind. “I’m pretty sure I have some stuff for eggs and toast though.”
Carmy keeps looking and finds half a loaf of sourdough bread, an avocado, and just two eggs. Just enough for two people.
“Did you ever have a Valentine?” Syd asks.
He fries eggs in Kerrygold butter. He keeps a close eye on them, watching as the edges get golden and crispy, the way Syd likes them. “No,” he answers after a beat. “I never had a Valentine,” he pauses. “I mean, I got Valentine’s. You know from all the kids in the school but it wasn’t like any one specific person. How ‘bout you?”
“I had one,” Syd says as she starts to measure syrups into the glasses.
“Oh?” Jealousy shoots through Carmy’s stomach.
“I was in first grade, his name was Jacob, and he kind of looked a little bit like you,” Syd answers. “Except he wore glasses. Anyway, he moved to Washington between first and second grade, never to be heard from again. I can’t say I was heartbroken though, he broke up with me for Brittany a week later because she had the name-brand fruit snacks.”
“Brittany?” Carmy asks as he butters toast.
“Dude, it’s always a Brittany.” She takes a sip of her drink and coughs a little. “Definitely need to work on the sweetness level. Here you try. Though you might like it, it’s acidic enough.”
Carmy stops cutting the avocado and takes the glass from her, taking a sip, not knowing what to expect.
“I’ll make a proper Shirley Temple for you one of these days. With 7-up and store-bought grenadine syrup. You have to have the full experience of an actual Shirley Temple, all that corn syrup.”
“This is good too though,” Carmy says.
Syd’s lips pucker slightly. “You do love your acid,” she says again, watching as he resumes cutting the avocado and fans them out on top of the eggs before adding a pinch of Maldon sea salt.
“Were there any girls you wanted to be your Valentine?” Syd asks when they’re sitting down cross-legged on her floor.
“You. I’d like you to be my Valentine,” he thinks as he watches her cut into the eggs. “I’d ask you if I’d thought you’d say yes if I knew how to do it the right way. If I didn’t think it was too juvenile.”
“No,” he says aloud. “I never really thought about asking anyone to be my Valentine.”
“Not even Claire?” Syd asks in a tone Carmy can’t name.
He can’t tell if she’s jealous or neutral, being a friend, or trying to find something out like Richie says women do.
“Not even Claire. I never thought about those things back then. Dating and romance have never been my forte. I was fuckin’ shit with girls. Still am in some ways.” he flushes at the last part, unable to believe he admitted it aloud.
“If it helps, I’m fuckin’ shit with boys,” Syd says, through a mouthful of her Shirley Temple, she stabs a cherry out of her drink with a heart-shaped straw.
“Did you, uh, ever want one?” Carmy asks. “I mean, a Valentine? You know, later on when everyone else was getting them and you weren’t?”
Syd shrugs. “I told myself it was a fucking construct designed by Hallmark to make more money to make myself feel better. But mostly it was my fault, I kept to myself a lot.”
It’s hard to imagine Syd not having a line of admirers all vying for her attention in a variety of ways, even in high school, even if she was keeping to herself. She’s so beautiful, so good. He thinks if he had known her then, he would have admired her secretly. He would have left notes in her locker and hoped just for a second of her attention.
Kind of like he’s doing now.
Sans notes in her lockers, of course, he doesn’t have the courage to do that.
“I kept to myself a lot too,” he says aloud.
Their eyes meet in a sort of silent understanding, and Carmy’s reminded of how similar they are in some ways.
Syd laughs a little and breaks eye contact. “This is the first time I’ve ever spent Valentine’s Day with someone who’s not my dad,” she admits, looking at the stove clock. “Well, sort of anyway because it’s midnight. But it’s not even really spending it with someone in that way.”
There’s no hidden meaning, just a statement of fact. They aren’t spending Valentine’s Day together in that way. They aren’t together in that way, something Carmy’s more and more aware of every day.
Syd clears her throat and raises her glass. “That being said, here’s to the first Valentine’s Day at The Bear. May there be many, many more.”
“And to you ,” Carmy says, clinking his glass awkwardly against hers. “Because we could have never done it without you , Syd.”
Syd blushes and chokes on her drink, her lips puckering again. “We couldn’t have done it without you either,” she answers, unwittingly embarrassing Carmy.
He doesn’t comment on her toast, instead, he goes to the fridge to find something to take the sour taste of lemon and lime out of Syd’s mouth. He finds a caffeine-free Coke and pours it into another glass.
“Maybe it needs a little bit more work before we can put it on any menu anywhere,” Syd says. “Maybe I should make a lemon-lime simple syrup, or maybe we should just break and use a lemon-lime seltzer water.”
She grabs a notebook she keeps on the counter and starts to jot down notes, accepting the Coke Carmy brought her. She takes a sip and sighs, doodling a misshapen heart in the margins, shading it in black ink.
He wants to take her hand and help her draw a better heart, show her how to do it the right way. Guide her with the shape of the cleft, and the belly. Help her color it in the colors of an anatomically correct heart.
But he doesn’t, instead, he wraps both of his hands around his glass and drinks some more from the heart-shaped straw Syd put in it. She’s right, he doesn’t mind the acidity of the drink. He lets it sit on his tongue before swallowing, the fizz and tartness burning the inside of his mouth.
She smiles lazily at him. “Sorry, I didn’t invite you over here to workshop recipes. I can work on it later.”
“It’s okay. Not much you can do to celebrate at midnight anyway,” Carmy says.
Syd closes her notebook and stands up. “Come on and dance with me.”
He does what she asks because again, he always does. She wraps her arms around him and they sway together as Tom Waits sings about being lonely. He suddenly feels tired and heavy in her embrace, the day catching up with him all at once.
It was a good day. Successful like Syd said. But even good days could be tiresome.
He wonders if Syd’s tired too. But he doesn’t want to ask her, he doesn’t want her to send him home yet so they can both get some rest.
He thinks he’d dance with her until the morning comes if she’d let him. He can see her standing in her living room, bathed in lemonade light. He sighs and rests his face in her neck, and she holds him up like she can feel the weariness in his bones.
“Tired?” Syd asks, her voice low and soothing.
“Mhm,” Carmy answers after a second.
“Me too,” Syd says.
They separate and look at each other.
“I should be heading home,” Carmy says even though he doesn’t want to but he doesn’t want to ask if he can stay either.
“Just make sure you stay alert,” Syd answers as she pats his shoulder. “I wouldn’t want you falling asleep on the L and missing your stop.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay,” Carmy assures her.
Syd bites her bottom lip, looking like she’s considering something. But she doesn’t say it aloud, she just shrugs. “Okay. Okay. But text me right when you get home. Right when you get home, Carmy.”
“Of course,” Carmy promises.
She leans in and kisses him on the cheek, barely lingering. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Carm.”
He feels his cheeks warm at the contact, and he clears his throat. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Syd,” he says, managing by some miracle to sound normal.
He turns around and stumbles to the door before he can do something stupid like kiss her on the mouth, ask her to be his, and take up permanent residence in her living room. He puts his coat on, and his sneakers, grabs his tote bag, and waves to her before unlocking the door and leaving.
It feels like an abrupt ending to the evening, he thinks as he goes outside and rummages through his bag. He finds his package of cinnamon Nicorette gum and pops a few pieces, he tosses them into his mouth, chewing them as he pulls his hat over his head.
He puts some music on mostly to keep himself awake and starts for the station. He settles into a mostly empty car. The only other people there’s a couple making out with a huge bouquet of flowers between them, and an engagement ring that looks brand-new is on the girl’s finger. Carmy feels like she’s purposefully showing it off to him as she rests her hand on her partner’s cheek.
He sighs and looks out the window as the train starts to move.
He feels like he’s missing out on something.
(he knows he is).
He slouches down in his seat, shoulders hunched, as he drums his fingers on his knee.
He thinks about Syd all the way home.
TBC…
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