Enchilada Ed

11

Was it lame to lean on the front hood of your car? That might look cool if you drove a Mustang or a Camaro or a Challenger. But Ed drove a hand-me-down blue 2001 Chevy Malibu his uncle had gifted him for his sixteenth birthday. If Ed attempted a cool pose in front of that old thing, he'd look every bit as ridiculous as he'd feel. Instead he sat on a curb in the science building's parking lot, and fixed his eyes to his iPhone. Where the hell was Audra? This was Wednesday, right? Ed checked the date on the lock screen. Maybe she stood him up? Maybe this whole date-thing was an elaborate joke. Worse still, maybe it wasn't really a date-thing. Maybe he mistook a casual- even hypothetical- interest in catci (and the watering thereof) to be a concrete plan for a date-thing. Maybe she forgot about it altogether. Ed's cheeks stung. What if he were forgettable?

"I hope I haven't made you late-"

The short hairs on Ed's neck rose. Audra stood breathless in front of him, brown suede book bag hanging off her shoulder, black violin case in her left hand, oversized sunglasses resting on the slender bridge of her nose, her chin-length curls tousled by the breeze. Ed thought that she looked like a classic car or Golden Age cinema star. He fought back visions of cherry-red convertible road-trips down the sunny coast of California.

"-Katie was having trouble computing limits for our classwork in Calculus," Audra sat down on the curb beside Ed. "I had to explain the last problem with such great intensity of detail that I didn't realize class itself was over." It now became obvious that she was out of breath, "It took me so long to pack up my things, I thought I should run to meet you."

"You ran?" Ed couldn't stifle his growing smile.

"But of course!" Audra exhaled. "I would be ashamed if you were late to your work because of me. Or if you should think I forgot about you."

Forgot about you. Forgot about ME. Ed stealthily pinched his thigh. Audra was still sitting on the curb beside him.

"Is this your car?" Audra's eyes widened as she noticed the Chevy Malibu.

"It's pretty old, I know," Ed apologized, "but on the plus side it has leather seats. My uncle really pimped it out, back in '01."

"Fantastic!" Audra jumped up and inspected the Malibu's left side view mirror. "In France, you can't even learn to drive until you are eighteen."

Ed couldn't believe that Audra actually seemed impressed by a used, nearly decades-old Chevy.

"It's not that special." He unlocked the car, tossed his book-bag in the back, and climbed into the driver seat. "Katie's parents bought her a brand new Lexus in March, just for the hell of it."

"The pink one?" Audra slunk into the seat next to him. "I've seen it. But yours has character."

***

The remains of the Linden Steel mill along the south bends of the same-named river had been converted into a sizable entertainment campus: an art museum, three separate concert venues, a performing arts center. Traffic had slowed to bumper-to-bumper on the Hillside truss bridge, and Ed peeked at Audra siting in the passenger seat beside him. She seemed fascinated by the rusted blast furnaces and smoke stacks which rose from the Linden river banks like the fossilized bones of a fallen dinosaur.

"If I were on the city council, I would have turned it into a water park and not an arts center." Ed pointed at the old mill. "I guess the infrastructure was too old for that."

"But you can so easily attend concerts now!" Audra turned her dark eyes toward Ed, "The very night I arrived last August, Bruce Springsteen performed right there. Emily's parents went."