“Wow. That’s amazing,” I breathed.

Ethan shrugged his shoulders and grinned.

Cade stepped out of the bathroom and grinned as he approached us. A few steps away, he turned his palm upward and widened his eyes, taking every inch of me into his view as he did so.

“May I have this dance?” he asked.

“Certainly,’ I said as I did a makeshift curtsy.

And, as we danced in the entry of the theatre to the classical music which played softly over the sound system, Ethan rolled his eyes. Try as he might to convince me he was, I knew he wasn’t near the heartless biker Cade joked about. Ethan was Ethan, and he was a much deeper person than most people realized, including Cade.

As Cade and I continued to dance, Ethan stood and smiled as he watched us. Together, the two men complimented each other. Although they were two totally different beings, when merged, they formed one perfect half of our relationship.

When we finally stopped dancing, Cade held my left hand in his. I reached for Ethan’s hand, wondering if he’d accept. As he took my hand in his and the three of us walked out into the parking lot, I felt like I had made a transformation from the homeless woman on the bench to who I was dancing in the theatre.

In many respects, I was Cinderella.

And I was living my happily ever after.

CADE

The day was dreary, rainy, rather cool for mid-summer, but otherwise perfect for shopping. I had decided to wear my desert boots, and although I realized fully I didn’t live in the desert, I still found them useful in the flat asphalt terrain commonly found in Kansas. Early on, after seeing them in an issue of GQ Magazine, I decided not only that I needed a pair, but that I needed them immediately. I adored them so much I chose to save them for special occasions, and this certainly was one. I had mixed emotions regarding allowing them to intentionally get wet, but they looked best with my skinny jeans, and I chose to wear my skinny jeans because Ethan was going with.

And Ethan would never allow anyone to taunt me for wearing them.

Rain wore her orange dress, and Ethan wore his Diesel jeans, lace-up biker boots, and a clean white tee shirt. As he wasn’t riding, he left his jacket in the closet.

“Why can’t we do a mixture?”

“We can’t have them touch each other, but I guess we could do two completely separate dishes.”

“Why can’t they touch, that’s idiotic.”

“Because they’re different. One is corn, and one is flour.”

“An enchilada is a fucking enchilada. Whatever. You always use the flour. For once, I want fucking corn.”

“It’s fine Ethan, I’ll do two separate dishes.”

Rain stood silently, her eyes shifting between Ethan and me as we spoke. Her hair was more beautiful than ever with her new cut, color, and highlights. After her session of nails, massage and facial, we went to Sephora and she bought some makeup and got a free lesson on how to properly apply it. Even though she didn’t regularly wear makeup, she chose to today, and I was grateful she did. A clear definition of beauty, she stood and shook her head at Ethan as he shook the package of corn tortillas before me.

Ethan’s reluctance to come in the first place disappointed me, but now that we were in the middle of the store, I wished I had chosen to wear my Sperry’s and khaki’s, and he would have remained at home. As much as I adored Ethan, there were some things he was simply not designed to do. Grocery shopping was obviously one of them.

“You two are fun to watch.”

Ethan tossed the tortillas into the cart, turned away, and began to meander down the aisle. As I pushed the cart a safe distance behind, Rain surveyed the contents. Nervously, I checked our purchases against the list I had prepared. Without even thinking, I reached over and touched Rain’s shoulder. She reached up and smiled as her hand met mine. Ethan glanced over his shoulder, rolled his eyes, and turned away.

“What’s next?”

“Dairy.”

“I want some cereal.”

“Okay, it’s two aisles over, on aisle 6.”

“Captain fucking crunch. I used to eat that shit by the truckload. I miss it. The one with the little balls in it.”

“Crunchberries.”

“Yeah, crunchberries.”

“I want some cereal too, is that okay?”

“Sure, anything you want. It’s why we all came together. We’re a family.”

Ethan chose the largest box of Captain Crunch on display, and Rain, after scouring the aisle on each side, opted for the Special K with Red Berries. Personally, although I enjoyed cereal, I chose not to eat it because it dirtied one more dish than eating a container of yogurt, and eating yogurt over cereal shaved roughly 40 calories a day from my diet. As we turned the corner toward the dairy cooler, an unfamiliar man who appeared to be strung out on drugs recognized Ethan, and stopped in his tracks. Dressed in a vintage 1980’s Adidas zippered track suit, his hair was brown and stringy, his face gaunt, and he was so thin he looked almost ill.

“Ethan? Ethan Hawthorne?”

“Sorry, I don’t…”

“Terry Becks. T-Bone.”

“Oh. Hey, how’s it going? Shit, I didn’t recognize you.”

“Good. Good. So, uhhm, I’m sorry to interrupt, but do you still, you know, do any hacking?”

Ethan shrugged his shoulders as he glanced nervously up and down the aisle.

“No, not so much. I’ve got a gig at a Harley shop, why?”

“Well, I’ve got this guy, or I guess it could be a girl, hell who knows, right? Anyway, this piece of fucking shit - excuse my French - this person hacked in to my computer, got word of a delivery, and intercepted it before it arrived at the final destination. It cost me. Well, yeah. It cost me a lot. I’d like to find out who it was. You know, even their IP address. Anything. I was just telling Brad I wished I knew where you were, because you were so stealth and shit. And bam! Here you are.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while. I’m not messing around anymore, sorry.”

“Seriously? I’d pay you. And if I found them, I’m sure my people would pay you really well.”

“Sorry, can’t help ya. Nice seeing ya, though.”

“Know anyone?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

He stood and stared as Ethan turned and walked away. I glanced down at his Run DMC Superstar sneakers as I passed, wondering as I did if he had them since the 1980’s or if he recently purchased them from Ebay or some other internet auction site, and if so, why? They were the only portion of his attire which was presentable and clean.

“Ethan’s a computer hacker?”

“No, he used to be. Shhhh. We’ll talk later.”

“So, you’re cooking enchiladas tonight? Two pans of those fuckers, right?”

“Yes, I’ll make them tonight.”

“Every time we eat Mexican food, I remember the night I came over for the first time.”

“Me too. And every time I see you eat toast…”

“Don’t even say that word. We’ll have to stop and make out. Even the mention of it makes me a mess.”

“Toast, toast, toast, toast and butter, toast and butter. Buttered toast.”

“Will you two quit dicking around and catch up? Where’s the fucking milk and shit?”

“Big cooler on the right.”

Ethan glanced to the right, obviously recognized the dairy cooler, and began walking briskly toward it. I quickly pushed the cart ahead and alongside Ethan. I feared if I wasn’t close to where he was standing, he’d simply grab a carton of milk and toss it in the cart, damaging the container. As he stepped in front of the cooler, I pushed the cart close to the glass door, almost blocking it.

“Here, I’ll get it.”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’ll get it.”

“Damn, dude. Jesus, fine. Grab the fucking milk.”