Page 48 of Art of Love

He groaned. He hated that video, but it had made him who he was today. A star.

“Ugh, why does he have to look that good buying lettuce?”

Abe set the lettuce down and hunched deeper into his hoodie like it was a cloak of invisibility. It was not.

He quickly snatched a pre-made Caesar salad container, pivoted fast, and made a break for the frozen food aisle. Two teen girls tracked him down there like heat-seeking missiles, phones out, giggling.

One of them called out, “Hey, Abe! Drop the hoodie. We saw everything in those ads anyway!”

He groaned, veered left, and took a hard detour into an aisle that sold air fresheners and novelty items. A cardboard cutout of a smiling cowboy pushing barbecue sauce startled him, and for a second he thought it might ask for a selfie too.

He finally reached the checkout line, where a toddler in the cart ahead of him pointed at Abe’s hoodie and shouted, “Mommy, that’s him!” The kid then pointed to a tabloid magazine that showed his face and the words “Abe’s Secret Love Affairs” under it.

The mother’s eyes widened and then her face blushed bright red.

When the teens rounded the corner, she stiffened and frowned.

“Go ahead of me. I’ll fend them off for you,” she whispered. She blocked the teens from knocking him over.

“Taylor, Leslie, don’t you have classes today?” the mother asked in a stern tone.

The teens looked torn, but after the clerk started scanning his items, they turned and walked out of the building.

“Thanks,” he said, and handed the kid a sucker from the checkout area. “On me,” he told the clerk, and winked at the mother.

After paying for his purchases, he grabbed his change, mumbled “thank you,” and bolted to his truck like his jeans were on fire.

Once safely inside, he texted Dylan:

Miss you. Also, remind me never to go anywhere without a fake beard and dark glasses.

He tossed the phone aside and drove home, watching the quaint little town of Pride shrink in his rearview mirror. Fame had its perks. Grocery shopping wasn’t one of them.

Later, the house was quiet except for the soft hum of the record player in the living room spinning something bluesy and tragic. Abe was sunk into the couch, beer in hand, barefoot, and still emotionally tangled up from the past few days.

His mind played over that last night with Kara like it had often over the years. But this time he thought about it with all the new knowledge.

They’d gone out to that little burger place just outside of town, the one she liked. The one with the paper tablecloths and crayons at every table. She’d drawn a guitar and had written “Soon, you’ll be famous and forget me” in loopy cursive beneath it.

At the time, he’d thought she meant he would leave her behind once his music career grew and he was famous. He’d taken it as a sign that she believed in him, that she was proud of him and willing to make sacrifices for his future. He had promised her that he would never leave her, which had her frowning and looking down at their joined hands.

But now… now he wondered if she’d been trying to soften the blow. Letting him down gently before she disappeared for good.

Maybe what she really meant was: You’ll get over me, after I break your heart.

He remembered how tense he’d been later that night. He’d asked her straight up, “Are you seeing someone else?” He’d heard her talking on the phone, had seen a few text messages that she’d kept from him. With all the lies she’d told him about where she’d been and with whom, he’d known something was off.

She’d laughed, not meanly, just sort of surprised. “Of course not,” she’d assured him.

But she’d paused half a second too long. Just enough for doubt to slip in.

She’d reached across the table, touched his hand. “I want you to finish this album. You’re so close to making it big. You’ve worked so hard on recording all the songs. You have to see this through.”

He’d mistaken that for support. Now it felt like a distraction. Like she was waving one hand while the other was reaching for the doorknob.

She had driven him back to his place after dinner, because he’d had a few beers. The second one had been to work up the courage to confront her about cheating on him.

He could still feel the press of her lips on his under the dim orange parking lot lights. Her hands in his hair, the heat of her body close but not close enough.