Read Online A Song in the Daylight by Paullina Simons - Free Book Online

from the cold.
    She was scheduled like a mother. Every minute of her life was accounted for.
    Every minute, except for the tiny present one after Panera and before Michelangelo’s bus.
    She was getting laundry detergent in aisle 12 when she heard his voice.
    “Hey, what are you doing here,” he said, like a voiceover narrative track, “in the laundry aisle?”
    He was pushing his own cart, in which he had nothing but three containers of sushi and some dried almonds. She switched her gaze from his cart to him.
    “Um—getting laundry?” Why did he smile like that was amusing? “Family’s run out.” She got that in there. Family.
    Larissa wasn’t trying to be coy. She wasn’t trying to be much of anything. She actually was shopping for her family. She had just finished lunch in Panera down the street. She liked Panera. Why did she have to explain herself?
    “How’s your ankle?”
    “Good,” she replied. “Cast came off.”
    “I see that. Feeling better?”
    “Meh.” She stood awkwardly next to the fabric softener. The aisle smelled faintly of fake lavender. Best to go get some food now.
    Larissa got some softener just in case, since she was standing right next to it. Got big containers, two of them, so she wouldn’t have to come back to aisle 12 anytime soon, and also to show him that she had a family that needed giant amounts of fabric softener because she was a good mother and softened their laundered clothes. He rolled his cart down the aisle beside her. He was wearing his torn jeans, brown boots, brown leather. His hair didn’t look brushed. He looked underfed in that skinny young guy way when they can’t keep the weight on no matter what they do.
    “You ride in this weather?” she asked him. “That’s crazy.”
    “Yeah. It is pretty crazy. I’m not used to it.” He pointed to his splotched face. “I get windburn.”
    Her mother taught her to be polite so Larissa said she couldn’t tell. But where was he from that he wasn’t used toit? One winter in Jersey and you pretty much knew what to expect. She didn’t ask.
    When she turned to aisle 13, to the frozen section and the bread, he turned, too. She didn’t need any frozen food. She bought some anyway. Frozen hash browns, frozen broccoli, ice cream. And some frozen pizza since that’s what they were having for dinner tonight. They got in line, he right behind her. Outside in the stinging sunshine, he asked where she was parked and they both saw she was parked close to his bike.
    “You’re like me,” he said. “You don’t want to forget where you left your transportation.” His fingerless gloves clutched the paper bag full of sushi.
    “Can’t imagine you’d forget where you parked that ,” Larissa said, pointing. “I don’t know much about motorcycles.” Riskaverse and proud of it. “But it looks nice.”
    He looked amused. “Well, you’re right. It is a nice bike. It’s a Ducati Sportclassic.”
    Her face didn’t change; she couldn’t even fake being impressed. “You bought it new?”
    “Nah, it’s way expensive. It was my old man’s. I got it when he died.”
    “Oh.” She studied him closer. “Sorry.”
    “Yeah, but,” he said, “look at the bike.” He raised his eyebrows and smiled, slightly ironically, but maybe not. Slightly ruefully, but maybe not.
    He helped her again, the heavy detergent, the fabric softeners, the 12-pack of Diet Coke. “Someone drinks a lot of soda in your house,” he remarked. “All that carbon dioxide is terrible for your metabolism, you know.”
    “What?”
    “Oh, yeah. It slows down your Krebs cycle to a crawl. It interferes with the enzyme that receives the oxygen molecule. Terrible if you’re trying to lose weight. What, you didn’t know?”
    “I didn’t know,” she said slowly, frowning at him. “How do you know?”
    “Ninth grade bio.” Instead of frowning, he smiled. “Not that you should care about losing weight,” he said. “See ya. Keep warm.”
    “Yeah, you