“How’s it been with Guillaume?” I ask, seeing his exchange student across the fire pit chatting with a couple of American girls. From what I’ve heard, Guillaume hasn’t been too enthusiastic about staying at Evgeney’s.
“He is a bitch,” Evgeney says.
I stifle a laugh. Did he just say bitch? I’ve never heard Evgeney curse before!
“I’m sorry you did not get someone better,” Benoit says. “Guillaume gives French people a bad name. He is in love with himself.”
Benoit pours a cup of wine for him. I like the way Benoit talks to Evgeney. That was one of the qualities I appreciated about Jared. He always treated Evgeney well.
Jared. I promptly shove him to the back of my mind where he belongs. Actually, he doesn’t belong in there at all—and one of these days he won’t be.
Evgeney leaves the fire pit around eleven, and Benoit and I drift into our own little world, surrounded by chatter and woodsmoke and music from somebody’s portable radio.
At one point Benoit just stares at me. His eyes drift over every part of my face, and I don’t feel a bit self-conscious. I feel like he’s telling me I’m beautiful.
“You are an extraordinary lady, Kayla.”
I giggle, because he called me a lady. “I’m glad you’re here. I feel like I’ve known you—”
“Your whole life. Yes, I know. I feel that way, too.”
And then he leans over and his lips brush mine, and we’re breathing each other’s breath, and it’s like time stills.
“Beautiful.” He pulls back, searches my eyes and kisses me again.
It’s incredible, this guy’s kiss. Intoxicating.
“I wish I could make love to you.” His lips are drifting over my ear.
“Me, too. But I don’t think it’s a—”
“Shh, I know. Not when I leave tomorrow. Let us enjoy the time we have left.”
The time we have left. It sounds so surreal. I push the thought aside—it doesn’t even matter. All that matters is this moment, and I am going to live it to the fullest.
I’m not the only one who finds romance that week. When Tracey sets eyes on Iced Mocha, she is filled with relief and a double shot of happiness. He doesn’t look just like his pictures. He looks better. Way better.
When he sees her, he gets up from the table where he’s been waiting. He’s maybe six feet instead of six-one, but he could have easily put his body type as muscular instead of fit. His skin is mocha, and his smile almost knocks Tracey off her feet. It’s big and toothy and boyish. She wonders if he’s feeling a similar sense of relief.
Could this be it? First time’s the charm? One try at cyber-dating and she strikes gold?
Their hellos turn into a hug. She feels his arms tighten around her in the most delicious way.
One foot on the ground, says the voice in her head. (That voice, as she’s told me, is my voice.) Alive with nervous energy, they approach the cash register to order coffees. As he reaches for his wallet, Tracey puts down the money. He seems impressed. It’s part of Tracey’s plan to show him she’s not like other women, many of whom assume the man will pay.
They grab seats. Their eyes say a lot of things that their mouths wouldn’t dare say.
“It’s great to finally meet you in person,” he says. “I’ve been feeling a little nervous, I admit.”
“You’re telling me.” She’s been having butterflies all week—and in the few minutes before meeting him, heart palpitations. “This is the first time I’ve met someone this way. It’s a new thing for me.”
“It doesn’t matter how many people you meet, the nerves are always there. And the majority of the time it doesn’t end up with the kind of relief I’m feeling now.”
“Are most people not what you expect?”
“Let’s put it this way—I’ve learned to expect the unexpected. It can make you jaded sometimes.”
“Obviously you haven’t given up hope.”
His mouth quirks ruefully. “Two of my friends met their wives over the internet, so they keep the pressure on. Truth is, I’m a workaholic who isn’t into the bar scene. It’s a recipe for being single. So, no, I haven’t given up.”
Tracey knows that it wouldn’t be hard for Mocha to meet women at bars. Maybe he’s looking for a connection that goes beyond the physical. He’s thirty-two, after all.
“You said you were a lawyer, right?” she asks, sipping her coffee.
“I’m an entertainment lawyer. I deal mainly with film options and contracts among actors, writers and studios. Sometimes I think I’m a slave to my BlackBerry, but I love what I do. You’re in high tech?”
“Yeah, not nearly as exciting as the entertainment industry.”
“You’re in such a male-dominated field. I’m surprised you haven’t been snatched up by now.”
She recognizes the question: why are you still single?
“There are a lot of guys around, just not what I’m looking for. I guess you could say I’m selective.”
“In other words, you don’t want to settle.”
“Exactly.”
“I know what you mean. Most people settle, I think. And everybody wonders why the divorce rate is so high. It’s ridiculous. If I’m lucky enough to get married, it’s going to be for good.”
She smiles. A man after my own heart.
I flop down on my bed with a big sigh.
Ah, whirlwind romance. It sweeps you up, leaves you suspended in the air and then lets go!
Mom and I just got back from seeing Benoit off at the airport. I can still smell his cologne in my room, still taste his lips. My palm tingles where he kissed it and then pressed it against his heart.
There is nothing about Benoit that isn’t wonderful. For the two weeks he was here, I was in love. Love is such an awesome drug. I walked through the hallways at school with a big smile on my face, knowing I’d be spending the evening with Benoit.
All isn’t lost though. I will visit Benoit as soon as I can save up the airfare. It will mean months of extra shifts at Eddie’s, but it’ll be worth it. At the latest, I could see him by Christmas. Will I be able to hang on to this precious feeling until then?
Yes. Absolutely.
I go to my computer and look at the pictures we took with his digital camera. God, he’s beautiful.
Rebound.
The word pops into my mind like an unexpected hiccup.
ReBOUND.
Fine, I can accept it. Technically it has to be a rebound because Benoit falls within the timeline of my rebound equation. It doesn’t matter, though. I’m sure many people find true love within a rebound.
I’m even thankful that Jared dumped me because otherwise my mom wouldn’t have taken an exchange student to cheer me up, I wouldn’t have met Benoit, and we wouldn’t have had two wonderful weeks together!
Who knew that everything could work out so perfectly?
seven
36 Days into Rebound Equation
“So you’ve really never seen Glamour Girl before?” Amy asks Zink, who’s joined us for our Sunday-night ritual. It boggles her mind that anyone our age isn’t watching it religiously.
“I usually attend Sunday-evening services at my grandmother’s church in Harlem,” Zink says. “The choir is fantastic.”
Wearing a crisp dress shirt and dark gray slacks, Zink looks like he’s just come from Sunday services. Amy brings him up to date on the main storylines of the show—the love triangles, the sex tape, the drunken orgy—as Zink’s eyes get wider and wider. Ryan and I exchange a suspicious look. Is Zink just putting on an act or does he really not watch this stuff? Heart transplant recipient or not, he’s still a teenager.
Zink turns to Sharese. “I thought you said Glamour Girl was a coming-of-age show.”
“I said it was a typical teen show.” I catch a prickle of annoyance in her voice. “That means the characters all have some growing up to do.”
“It certainly sounds that way.” He crosses his legs, resting his ha
nds on his knee. “I suppose it’ll be entertaining to watch them find their way.”
When the show’s first scene shows a couple making out in a lavish hotel room, Zink gasps. I can’t be sure, but I think I hear him mumble, “Trash.” Which, I suppose, is right on the mark. Still, it’s fun trash.
Zink and Sharese are sitting on the love seat, though I don’t see much lovin’ going on. Their legs aren’t touching and they aren’t holding hands. But then, they only started dating recently, and they’re pretty religious. I wonder if they’re going to end up wearing virgin promise rings. Amy would have a field day with that.
As much as my friends and I enjoy the show, we’re enjoying Zink’s reaction to it—or overreaction—even more. His nostrils flare whenever something outrageous happens, and he turns to Sharese to mutter comments. She nods and nods and finally shushes him. We all glance at each other, trying not to laugh.
On the commercial, Ryan dares to ask, “Whaddaya think, Zink?”
“I think it’s appalling! You can see Satan in every scene!”
We all burst out laughing. We can’t help it. Sharese’s hands tighten in her lap, and I know she’s pissed off. I just can’t tell if she’s pissed off at Zink or at us for laughing at him.
Zink rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, we could study this show in youth group. The whole gamut of sin is covered.”
Ryan laughs. “You could have a quiz—spot the sin!”
Viv raises her brows. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. Even if everyone can spot them, the show still makes sinning look like a lot of fun.”
“Good point.” Zink gives a solemn nod. “That may be what Satan wants. I’ll have to talk to Reverend Fielding about this.”
Sharese puts a hand on his arm. “Please don’t. I don’t want Reverend Fielding to know that I watch this every week.”
Zink looks shocked. “You want to hide this from Reverend Fielding?”
“It’s not hiding if we don’t tell him everything.”
“I’m not sure Satan would agree,” Amy says, managing to keep a straight face.
Sharese and Zink are still bickering when the show comes on again, so we have to crank up the volume. Hmm. Bickering this early in a relationship isn’t a good sign. Maybe they’re not the match made in heaven we’d all hoped for.
The next morning at our lockers, I ask Sharese for the real deal. “How are things going with you and Zink? There were some fireworks last night.” Though not of the romantic kind, I don’t add.
She eyes me like she knows where I’m going with this. “They’re fine.”
“I didn’t exactly get the lovey-dovey vibe from you guys.”
“I know, but it’s still early. Reverend Fielding says it could take weeks before I feel the spark. Sometimes you have to get to know the person first.”
“You were talking to your pastor about this?”
“Friday night after youth group he asked me how things were going with us. I told him they’re okay.”
“Isn’t it weird that your pastor’s asking about your relationship?”
“A little.”
“I hope he’s not trying to marry you off or something.”
“I’m sure he’d love to see us get married one day.” She sounds less than enthused. “So you must be sad that Benoit’s gone, huh? I heard you made out with him at the bush party. Heard there was some real tongue action.”
The thought of the kiss brings a smile to my lips. “We definitely kissed, but the tongue part isn’t true. Benoit would never French kiss in front of people. He’s far too refined.”
“Refined?” Sharese laughs. “I like that.”
I see Jared walking in our direction. I catch his eye and he gives a halfhearted smile, drops his head and keeps going.
Sharese notices the exchange. “You guys don’t even talk?”
“No. I’ve only heard from him once and that was by phone. I guess it doesn’t suit him to talk to me in public. That’s fine with me.” Of course, it isn’t fine with me, and Sharese knows that.
“Maybe he just doesn’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“I saw the way he looked at you, Kayla. I think he still has a thing for you.”
“Why should I care if he does?”
I don’t, I tell myself.
I don’t.
I check my email when I get home from school, even before I raid the fridge. I’m hoping to get a line from Benoit, but there’s nothing. Oh, well, he just got back and is probably jet-lagged. I write him a nice email saying that I hope he had a great trip back and that I miss him.
After having a snack and watching Oprah, I go back to the computer, and find a new email.
Dear Oracle,
There’s this guy at work who asked me out today. I’m excited because I’ve had a crush on him for a while. He recently broke up with a girl who works on the eighth floor and I’ve heard she’s upset with him.
I want to ask this girl for the lowdown. It might be awkward, but they were together for more than a year, so she must know him really well. If he’s a jerk, I’d like to find out so I don’t waste my time.
Should I talk to this girl or not?
Just Wondering
Juicy question!
Dear Just Wondering,
The idea of a relationship reference is not a new one. It’s natural for us to want to minimize the emotional risk of a relationship by doing a little fact-finding beforehand.
There are two things to keep in mind. (1) Is it fair to ask his ex about him? And (2) Will you be getting accurate information? Think about your own exes—what would you say about them? What would they say about you? Would you want the guy you like talking to them about you?
If you’ve heard that he used to beat her, or that he slept with every girl on the block, then it might be wise to find out the truth. But if you haven’t heard that type of thing, then I don’t think going to his ex will give you the real lowdown. Either he broke up with her and she’s hurt and will say nasty things about him, or she broke up with him and will give you numerous reasons to justify her decision. Neither scenario is useful.
My point? Don’t ask her. Go out with him. Trust your judgment. Proceed with caution as with any relationship. Have fun.
Cheers,
The Oracle of Dating
After sending my reply, I wonder what kind of reference I’d give Jared. Great boyfriend until he dumps you without any warning!
Damn, there’s still a lot of hurt, and I guess there will be for a while. I bet when I’m eighty I’ll still feel sore when I see his yearbook picture. The song had it right: “the first cut is the deepest.” And if it weren’t for Benoit, I might still be bleeding.
I’m not obsessed, really. Just because I check my email twenty times a day to see if I’ve heard from Benoit doesn’t mean I’m obsessed. I can’t imagine why I haven’t heard from him. Is he sick? Has he been in an accident? Has his computer crashed? I’ve sent him two emails already—my limit until I hear back.
And then, almost a week after he left, he replies.
Chère Kayla,
Let us not make it something different than it was: two wonderful joyous weeks. Two weeks I will always remember.
If we try to stretch it, if we try to make it last longer, we will change it. Now it is beautiful. Let it always be that way!
I hope you understand, my lovely Kayla. You are one of the most captivating people I have ever met.
Benoit
I stare at the email.
Tears flood my eyes, blurring the words on the screen.
I’m in shock. How could he do this when we connected so well? It doesn’t make sense. If our two weeks together were as great as he said they were, why not give our relationship a shot?
Wasn’t I worth it?
It’s so unfair. Despite the heartbreak I went through with Jared, I managed to open myself up to someone else—only to get shot down again!
Hours later, I’ve pulled myself together thanks to the latest season of Dexter on DVD and some Frosted Flakes. Luckily, Mom and Erland aren’t home. I don’t want them to see me like this. Knowing Mom, she’ll blame herself since she arranged for Benoit to stay with us.
There is only one thing left to do: calculate my newest rebound equation.
How long did we go out? Well, he was here for two weeks, and we were pretty much together the whole time. So let’s say fourteen days.
Now the equation:
14 days divided by 8 = 1.75
+ 30 because he dumped me = 31.75
Do I fantasize about getting back together? No!
Do I think it’s for the best? No!
Total: 31.75 days before I can have another relationship.
That’s ridiculous! That’s half of my rebound equation with Jared, and we were together almost six months.
I play around with the equation, but it’s no use. Because I got dumped after a short period of time, my own rebound equation has screwed me over.
No way. I’m not going to let this happen.
I realize I should have made up some rules to go along with the rebound equation: (1) The rebound equation only applies to relationships that last over one month. (2) Do not calculate a new rebound equation while you are still in an old one.
Which is what I did. I dated a new guy before the time allotted from my first rebound equation was up, and now I’m paying the price!
I call up Tracey. As always, she makes sympathetic listening noises. Then she says, “It’s really not so bad.”
That is not what I need to hear right now. “It is. I really liked this guy. I think I was partly in love with him!”
The Oracle Rebounds Page 7