The Polka Dot Girl Read online

  And two days after that, Virginia showed up. I was on the street outside in the early evening, sitting on the dirty old stoop in dirty old jeans, enjoying a smoke, watching kids play jump- rope, listening to the low rumble of car engines. Then there she was, standing in front of me, wearing a woolen coat buttoned up to the neck, a brightly colored scarf, thick-cut corduroys, high boots. Her head was tilted to one side, an enigmatic smile on that heartbreakingly lovely face.

  I smiled back.

  She said, “You still got that nice coffee?” “Uh-huh.”

  “Want to make me a cup?” “Maybe.”

  She smiled, more direct this time, and sat next to me on the stoop. “Okay. I’ll wait. It’s good coffee.”

  We sat in silence for a long moment. Then Virginia said, “Did you know I’d come here?”

  “I kind of figured you might.” “Did you hope I would, though?” “Maybe.”

  I passed her a cigarette and lit it without a word. We sat there and smoked, watching the children together. A chill wind blew across us, down the street and around our heads. Virginia shivered and pulled her coat up higher.

  She said, “I always feel the cold more than everyone else. Genie, I have something to say.”

  I looked at her. “Okay. No more fooling around. Shoot.”

  “I want us to try and make a go of it—of us. I want us to try again. What do you say? …That’s it, that’s all I have to say. Your turn.”

  I sighed heavily. “I don’t know, Virginia. I honestly don’t.” “Why? I’m going to cut straight to the chase. Why? What’s stopping you?”

  “I don’t know. I guess—I guess I’m fearful, you know? I got…burned.”

  “I told you. I explained all that.”

  “No, not…you. I understand why that happened. It’s forgotten already. I mean by Odette. Shit, I know we were broken up, but… It’s hard to have—optimism, or idealism, after something like that. You know? It’s hard to have faith.”

  “I know,” she said softly. “But listen. Sometimes faith… Sometimes you have to create it by having it. Do you under- stand? By believing in something. That’s a good start.”

  I smiled at her. “I want to believe you, Virginia. I swear, I really do. I want to believe.”

  She stood and dragged me into a standing position too, then clapped her hands to ward off the cold and nodded her head in the direction of the apartment building. “What say we start with that coffee? See how it goes. One cup of coffee. Yeah?”

  A long pause. I looked at her and for a moment I didn’t see this woman I had known and caressed and connected with. Rather, I saw Madeleine’s friend: devoted, non-judgmental, loyal. Her most caring friend, the best friend of all. I pictured Madeleine then, wherever she was, happy, at peace, maybe heading out somewhere nice for the night, in her prettiest polka dot dress, with someone who loved her. Maybe with Virginia and me.

  I nodded. “Yeah. One cup of coffee. Come on.” We turned to go inside and I said, “Hey, what do I call you now? It’s not Cassandra anymore. So do I use the full ‘Virginia’ or what?”

  She shrugged. “Madeleine used to call me Ginny. I always liked it. How does that sound?”

  I scrunched up my nose and said doubtfully, “I dunno… Ginny, Genie…it’d never work. Too confusing.”

  Virginia laughed, brilliant and heavenly and breathtaking. Just like my heart remembered. She said, “It’ll work”, then caught my hand, lacing her fingers around mine. “It’ll work.”

  We jogged up the steps together, our fingers entwined once more, the setting sun crowning our heads in soft gold.

  THE END

  Roundfire Books put simply, publish great stories. Whether it’s literary or popular, a gentle tale or a pulsating thriller, the connecting theme in all Roundfire fiction titles is that once you pick them up you won’t want to put them down.