Page 25 of Meet Me on Love Street
When I get to the park, the hill is crowded with people. This is a popular place to watch the sunset in the city, and now that the weather is milder, I guess a lot of people have the same idea as me. I scan the crowd and see Miles and Charlene sitting on a blue tarp on the grass. Perfect. I briefly consider waiting before joining them to give them more time alone, but this bag is heavy. And honestly? Wedohave work to do on the festival plan tonight. I head toward them.
“There you are! Hope I’m not interrupting anything!” I plop down on the tarp next to Miles. Charlene is on the other side of him. “Oh my goodness, Charlene, you look amazing! Ilovethat sweatshirt! Isn’t purple totally her color, Miles? It makes her skin glow!” Charlene’s sweatshirt is a pale lavender with an illustration of… yep, rodents on it. Gerbils, I think. I admit, it’s an odd quirk. But the factthat the girl likes small animals is hardly a red flag. And she looks so good next to Miles. He’s in a blue checked cotton shirt with jeans, and I can see his messenger bag at his feet. He looks like he dressed up for this. Good. Charlene did too. She has a lace collar coming out the neck of her gerbil sweatshirt. There’s a cream backpack in front of her, and I decide not to look too closely to see if there are rodents on it.
Charlene beams at the compliment. “This is my favorite sweater! I love yours, too. Did you get it at Cosmic?”
I tell her that my mom knit it, and we talk about clothes while I settle myself on the tarp. It’s not quite the picnic blanket I was envisioning, but it works. And the fact that Miles brought it proves he’sinvestedin this date working out.
“You’re at U of T, right?” I ask her. “Miles goes to Toronto Metropolitan University. He’s studying planning. It’s such an interesting field. It’s like, planning neighborhoods and cities and stuff. What are you studying?”
Charlene tells us that she’s in her second year in a biology program and says she’s hoping to go to veterinary school in Guelph after. Miles mentions that he has a cousin who goes there, and soon the conversation carries on about grad schools, career choices, and their impressions of their universities. They have such an easy rapport that I may as well not even be here, which isfantastic. I predict that Miles and Charlene will be in love in a month, and Miles will be so utterly enamored that he’ll be even more into romance than I am.
I wish Cara could see how well this is going. I text her that it’s okay that she’s running late because the setup is going soperfectlythat I’m thinking about escaping to let them be alone. Cara writes back some kissing emojis, thensays she and Hannah are still at dinner with Hannah’s friends but will be leaving soon. I start taking the food out of my bag and laying it out on the tarp.
Miles looks at the containers as I put them in front of us. “I thought you were just bringing a snack. I figured chips or popcorn.”
I laugh. “I amsonot a chips or popcorn kind of entertainer.” I clap when all the food is out. “There. I have bread from Mrs. Kotch’s, Havarti cheese, grapes, strawberries, vegan cookies, and dried dates. Oh, and lemonade!” I take a thermos and some clean metal cups out of my bag.
Charlene plucks a cube of cheese from the container. I thought she was vegan? “Havarti! That’s Agnes’s favorite!”
My eyes widen. Who’s Agnes? I glance at Miles, and he shrugs.
Charlene opens a zipper on her backpack, and I notice for the first time that it has a mesh front. “Come out, Agnes! Sana brought you cheese! No, not you, Roland. You like cheddar. Havarti isAgnes’sfavorite.”
Um… I raise a brow. Who is Charlene talking to?
Agnes, it turns out, is a small white mouse, who sticks her head out of the backpack to get her cheese. I quickly close the containers of food. I didn’t do all that work to feedvermin.
“There’s a mouse in your bag?” Miles asks.
Charlene beams. “Three of them, actually! This is Agnes.” She picks up the small white mouse in her hand. It’s got red eyes, and honestly, the way it’s holding the cube of cheese is kind of cute. Butno. I’m a cat person. Which makes me decidedlynoton team mouse. “Inside are Roland and Albert.”
Miles looks at me with both eyebrows raised. And yeah, I agree with him. This is no longer a cute quirk. “I rescued them from a lab at school,” Charlene says. “I take themeverywhere. See? They have a little house in my backpack. I even take them to class.”
“You don’t bring mice into LoveBug, do you?” I ask. That’s a health code violation. Julie and Ajit’s café could be shut down.
Charlene doesn’t answer that. “Look how cute Agnes is.” Charlene actually kisses the top of the head of the tiny mouse. The mouse doesn’t seem to care; she’s just focused on the cheese.
Miles suddenly points to the backpack. “Watch the other one!”
One of the other mice, Roland or Albert, climbs out of the zippered opening and stands on top of the bag. It stares at the three of us for a moment, then scurries down the backpack and onto the tarp. Charlene seems to want to reach out and try to stop it, but Agnes is still in her hands. I can see the moment in her eyes where she considers which mouse means more to her, Agnes or whoever the runaway mouse is. She decides on Agnes and clutches the little Havarti-eating vermin tightly to her chest. Miles reaches out to grab the runaway mouse, but it’s too fast for him. It scurries off the tarp and onto the grass.
“Roland!” Charlene calls out. “Get him!”
I most definitely do not try to get the mouse. Honestly, it’s taking everything in me not to stand and scream like a 1950s housewife. Why did this girl bring three mice with her on adate?
As Miles and I watch the small white mouse run downthe hill, Charlene finally gets Agnes secured in the bag with Albert, then hurries down the hill, weaving between picnickers and sunset watchers. “Roland!” she yells. “Rolly! Come back, Roland!” She asks people sitting on the hill if they’ve seen a white mouse.
Miles looks at me. “Should we help her?”
I mean,probably? If we were at a park with a friend who lost their pet dog, I would help them. The fact that the pet is a mouse shouldn’t change anything, should it?
I sigh, then stand. Pointing to Charlene’s backpack, I tell Miles, “Keep an eye on Agnes and Albert.” I feel ridiculous but call out for Roland as I head down the hill.
“Did you see a small white mouse come this way?” I ask a couple on a pink blanket. The girl shakes her head while the guy looks at me, horrified that I would even ask. Dude,I know.
I keep asking people if they’ve seen Roland as I follow Charlene down the hill. Many people look at me like I’ve lost my mind. At least one person squeals and jumps when I say the word mouse. But most just shake their head.
Once I’m at the bottom of the hill, I turn and ask people on my way back up the hill. After I ask a cute couple sitting near our tarp if they’ve seen a white mouse, one of the men points to the other, who is taking a picture of something on the edge of their picnic blanket. It’s Roland. He’s eating a small piece of what looks like cheddar cheese.
