Fantasy Girl: A Short Story

I wrote this on a whim. Enjoy! :)

Fantasy Girl

By Amory McKay

Do you ever get a feeling you’re being watched?

No? I mean, it doesn’t happen to everybody.

I’ve been getting this feeling every time I walk past the creamery on 9th. Like, you’d expect to get that sort of feeling when you walk past a cemetery or something. Nope—it’s the creamery.

Naturally, I figure there’s some dream girl working there to pay for college. She thinks I’m handsome, she gazes out the window every day just to catch a glimpse of her dream man, she swoons at the mere thought of me.

After weeks of wondering who the heck this fantasy girl is, I decide, Why not go in there and catch my TV romance? If my dream girl has been watching this long, our perfect relationship is bound to take flight and soar into the sunset.

Isn’t it?

My neck tingles as I approach the creamery. Yep. It’s definitely one of those days where my girl is daydreaming. I waltz in, swaggering confidently. I straighten my flannel and tuck the thumb of one hand into my pocket to show off my matching brown belt and watch. As the college student I am, I whip off my dollar store sunglasses (I bought them because they look designer, obviously) and throw a smolder toward the cashier, the only person inside.

The cashier is a 70-something-year-old man.

He raises an eyebrow. “How can I… help you?”

Well if this isn’t the most awkward moment of my life… Play it cool, man. Play it cool…

I nod coolly in his general direction, accidentally straining my neck and masking a wince. “Hey.” Another odd look from the cashier. I clear my throat and some saliva gets into my air pipe. Choke-coughing commences.

As I stand all alone in this little ice cream shop.

While this 70-year-old man stares at me awkwardly.

And my beautiful dream girl fantasies straight-up catch fire on my mind’s stage in extraordinary glory.

Once I finally get the phlegm back into my mouth and air in my lungs, I swallow slowly, straighten up my back, and smooth out my shirt. Deciding I no longer have anything to lose, I squeak hoarsely, “Why do you stare at me when I walk past this place?”

Realization dawns on the man’s face. After a whole awkward second, he bursts into hysterical old man giggles.

It’s my turn to raise an eyebrow as he leans against his side of the counter to catch his breath. He wipes his eyes with his sleeve, composing himself, then nearly doubles over again, succumbing to another wave of giggles.

“Ummm…” The floor is looking awfully interesting right now. I let my thoughts focus on what appears to be a crack shaped like a school kid's drawing of a plane. Next to it is an odd shaped cloud. Or maybe it’s me, on the wings of an eagle with my fantasy girlfriend, except instead of soaring we’re falling because everything is crashing down, there’s no ice cream girl, and the little airplane-floor-crack is actually on fire, and there’s no escape-

“That is the funniest question—wheeze—anyone has ever asked me!”

I snap out of my fantasy-gone-wrong and stare, dumbstruck, at the man’s tickled expression. I shake my head as the heat rises to my face. “Um- uh- sorry… sir,” I hastily add. “I-I thought you must be some girl who… thought I… was… cute...” Saying it out loud makes it sound so cringy, I wince at my own stupidity.

The ice cream man guffaws with amusement and wipes another tear from his eye. My face must be beet red, and at this point, I’m utterly grateful that I’m not in front of some ice cream girl.

The guy leans his elbow on the counter and says, “Hey, kid. Look. I stare at you because you look a lot like my grandson who died in a car crash. We had such good times. You remind me of him with your imagination and sheepish smile.” He grins, and I can see the crow’s feet next to his eyes. “Whaddya say to a free cone on me? All it’ll cost is your company for an hour or two.”

I smile, grateful for redemption from my embarrassment, and honestly, touched. I nod and ask to taste the marshmallow rocky road. Fantasy girl can wait for another day.