Sweet as Candy

    Sam never had been very smart.  He had lacked both athletic ability, and creativity.  If anything was average, Sam was.  He stood no taller than 5’10’’, dull brown hair, and a large nose.  The only thing that set Sam apart from anyone was his smile.  People would compliment is smile wherever he went.  If Sam had been a superhero, his smile would have been is special power. 
    The door was made off old wood, and defiantly smelled the part.  The metal handle had almost rusted through, leaving orange residue on Sam’s hand as he walked into the small shop.  The door didn’t do the small shop justice, with its shelves full of candies and sweets, brightly colored walls, and homey interior. 
    Sam ran his hand over the single nickel in is pocket, imagining all the possibilities the coin could help him obtain.  As he let his eyes wonder over the colorful assortment of candies, something far superior caught his attention.  What other thing would be greater than candy, but the candy girl herself, gracefully walking behind the counter.
    “Can I help you?” said a voice from a great distance, drawing Sam back to the moment.  She stared at him questionably, hands lying carelessly on her hips.  She had shoulder length blonde hair, with green eyes that seemed brighter than the candies behind her. 
    “Oh, yeah,” he stuttered out, laying his cent on the counter.  “Some candy I guess,” handing her the nickel.
    “I guess?” she mimicked, taking his coin.  “What do you not like candy?”
    “Not really,” he said biting his lip nervously.  “It’s ok,” Sam added with a little more confidence.
    “I think you’re the first guy I have ever met who didn’t like candy,” the girl said as she put the money in the register.  It would be the first of many things that would help Sam stand out from the other guys that she spoke of, something he would desperately need.  Like a facet slowly beginning to let water drip out, a plan formed in average Sam’s head, a new sensation for the averagely smart boy. 
    “So what will it be?” she asked finally, looking at him for the first real time.  He wasn’t very easy on the eyes, with his large nose and shaggy brown hair.  She had seen worse though. 
    “Well as I’m new to the whole candy scene, what is your favorite?” he said steadily this time. 
    “Today,” she said turning around to get a look at the shelves, “Probably, gummy bears,” as she turning back to the boy.  His hands lay casually on the counter, his fingers tapping as he thought.  He had large hands, though they didn’t look coarse and rough like most the farm boys that came in the shop, she observed. 
    “I will have a dollar’s worth of that,” he said, tapping the counter lightly for emphases.  She bagged up the little bears in a small brown bag, rolling the top so he wouldn’t loose any.  He had to be no older than her, though he was rather quiet for most kids their age. 
    “Thanks,” was all he said as he headed out the door.  She leaned over the counter, curiosity making her wonder where he would go next.  But he never left the porch.  The porch was as long as the small shop, and only a couple feet wide.  It had a wood railing with chipping white paint, and small flowers boxes hanging off the railing.  What obviously caught the boy’s attention was the small white bench that sat against the wall.  He walked over to it and slowly lowered himself onto the old bench, testing to see if it would hold his weight.  When he was satisfied it would, he got comfortable and opened his bag.  She never got another chance to study him as a group of obnoxious farm boys entered the store.  She couldn’t get the average boy off her mind the rest of the day.

    It became a daily routine for Sam; he would come in about six, have some small chat and buy her favorite candy of the day.  He could only wonder how his plan was going, until one day he knew it was time for stage two.
    What had really puzzled the candy girl was that they hadn’t even exchanged names yet.  She was beginning to wonder if he even had one.  He never inquired while she hadn’t had the courage to ask.
    Unbeknown to the candy girl, and sometimes to Sam, was why he hadn’t given his name yet either.  He just hadn’t found the need to give it, and she had never asked. What also lay in Sam’s favor was his secret, his power, his smile.  The smile that could thaw his parents’ most harsh glares and could calm the spirit of anyone who saw it.  When you had as little to work with as Sam, hiding the one thing that defined him was a must.  So finally it was time to finish Sam’s plan.
    “So what is it today?” he asked, leaning on the counter.  She scanned the jars, her mouth in a half smile. 
    “I think taffy will do today,” she said, grabbing the jar.  He had already put his nickel on the counter, waiting patiently for her to hand him his purchase.  As she slipped his coin into the register, she looked up to see his eyes lock with her own.  A small electrifying jolt shot through her, causing her to unconsciously take a deep breath.
    “What’s your name?” she asked, this time her turn to stutter.  He didn’t reply for a moment, and she wondered if he would even answer. 
    Sam wondered if he had heard right.  Had SHE asked for HIS name?  Average Sam? 
    “Sam,” he said quietly, hopping that if she hadn’t asked, she wouldn’t hear.
    “Sam,” she replied, letting it sink in.  “Mine’s Elizabeth,” she said, grabbing the jar and putting it back on the shelf before he could say anything else.  The whole scene had been awkward, and she didn’t want to ruin it farther.  Would he come back any more?  She hoped so, fore she had found him to be witty and slightly more sophisticated then the other boys.  He grabbed his small brown bag, heading out toward his bench.  He stopped before the ancient door, pausing as if gathering the courage to say something. 
    “If you get a chance, you should come out and sit.  The impatients smell great,” he said, and with that he walked out and took his spot at the bench.  She took a rag and dusted off the counter, arguing back and forth if she should go out.  She never did.

    This didn’t deter Sam any, although average, he had always had stubbornness to him.  He continued coming, buying candy, and always talking with Elizabeth about random things.  They would talk about the weather, how obnoxious farm boys were, or why the store never seemed to have Swedish Fish. 
    What bothered Elizabeth was that she had never seen him smile.  This struck her as odd, because he always seemed to be having a nice time, though the same serene look seemed glued upon his face. 
    It was growing dark as Elizabeth went outside to finish her duties.  Sam had left long ago, having chores to do at his own house.  It had been a while since the trash outside had been emptied, and Miss Collins had asked her politely to empty it.
    She grabbed the each of the plastic bag, heaving it out of the barrel.  She would never have been prepared for what she saw inside.  The bag was filled with little brown bags, to many to count.  She cautiously picked up the nearest bag, surprised by the weight of it.  Slowly she unrolled the top to find it filled with little sweet candy called Tarts, the candy she had picked today as her favorite.  She opened several more bags, finding them all to be full. 
    At first Elizabeth was angry, followed by the feeling of betrayal, which caught off guard.  Why had he bought all this candy if he wasn’t going to eat it?  She dragged in the garbage bag forcefully, knowing full well what they were going to talk about tomorrow.

    Anger is a strong emotion.  It felt immense to Elizabeth, a strong weight, pressing down on her.  When Sam walked in that afternoon, there was no smile to greet him on Elizabeth’s face.  A frown stood in its place, the first one he would ever see.  Sam stopped at the counter; unaware of what could have put Elizabeth in such a foul mood.  Until she spoke.
    “Why do you even buy the candy?” she said, throwing him a look of scorn.  Sam didn’t meet her gaze, but instead looked thoughtfully at a splinter in the old wood counter.
    “What would you have thought, if I came in everyday, never buying a thing, just standing by the counter?” he asked, finally meeting her eyes.  How deep green they were, so deep that Sam felt he might be lost in them, an endless pool of sage. 
    “I would have thought you where some kind of weirdo,” Elizabeth stated defiantly, arms crossed.  “But you think this is any better?”
    “Yes,” he said confidently.  “If all I had ever gained was those days, talking to you at this counter, then it was worth it.  If you never let me talk to you again, I will have cherished these moments, though too few in number.”  He stood straight up, head held high, no longer average Sam.  She could feel her anger subsiding, slowly clearing her thoughts.  That’s when she knew.  It was all for her.  He spent his money everyday, buying candy he would not eat, just to talk to her.  To be with her.  And even know, facing her anger, he had no regrets.  Sam then left the store, never saying goodbye or looking back.  She could feel a small tear sliding down her cheek, remorse at what she had lost to great to bear.  Then she saw it.  A single nickel sat in the exact center of the counter, gleaming in the sunlight.  Slowly she picked it up, feeling the warmth left from Sam’s palm.  She clutched it in her hands, finally letting the tears come.