Match Me

by Liz Appel

  “How…?”

  “They flew off your head when you passed out.” He grinned. “They ended up in the avocados.”

  I sighed. “Awesome.” I reached into my purse. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  I pulled two twenties from my wallet and thrust them at him. “Here. Thank you.”

  “Really, don’t worry about it.”

  I pressed them against his chest. “Seriously. You’ve already done enough for me. I’m not letting you buy my groceries, too!”

  He reluctantly took the money and set his groceries down on the hood of my Volkswagen bug. “You sure you’re OK?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Do you faint often?”

  I unlocked my car door and pulled the lock up on the passenger door. It was a ’72 bug. Nothing was automatic.

  “No. Never, actually.”

  Paul put my groceries on the back seat. “So, that’s a little weird, right?”

  I shrugged. I was feeling better. Except for the humiliation and mortification of having passed out into a bin of tomatoes.

  “I didn’t eat much for breakfast this morning.”

  Come to think of it, I hadn’t eaten much of anything for almost three days. I’d been too nervous to eat on Saturday and too mortified to eat the day after. When I’d gotten up this morning and hadn’t been hungry, I’d thought maybe my stomach had shrunk. Kinda like my brain.

  “Hmm.” He stood next to my car and waited.

  “What?” I was anxious to leave. I wanted to get home and lock myself away for the rest of the day. Maybe for the rest of the week. Maybe for all of eternity.

  “I just…” He hesitated. “I just wanna make sure you’re OK. That’s all.”

  “I’m fine. Really. I just need to eat and I’ll be good as new.”

  “Not what I meant.” He looked down and kicked at a pebble with his sandal. “I mean about Chase. The wedding.”

  “Oh.” I straightened. “Uh, yeah. I’m OK.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I think he made the wrong choice.”

  “What?”

  “Angela. You.”

  I swallowed. “Really?”

  He nodded and chewed his lip as he glanced back up at me. “Yeah. If it were me…hell, if it had been me, there wouldn’t have been a choice. None.”

  EIGHT

  I stood in the parking lot with my mouth hanging open for fifteen minutes after Paul left.

  What had he just said to me? Was he telling me that Chase had been a fool and that being with me was the obvious choice? Or was he trying to tell me something else? That I was his choice?

  I mulled it over as I backed up out of my parking spot. I thought about it as I shifted into first and exited the lot. I obsessed about it as I drove the three miles home to my apartment.

  And I called Jill as soon as I got inside.

  “What?” Her voice was muffled.

  I shoved groceries into my cupboards. “Something happened with Paul.”

  “Did you crash his wedding, too?”

  “Shut up.” I stowed the milk in my fridge. “No. He said something. Something weird.”

  “I can’t hear you,” she practically shouted.

  “Where are you?”

  “Party at Lake Calhoun. You should come down.”

  An hour drive down to the Cities for a party on a Monday night? No thank you.

  “I have stuff to do.” Like try to figure out what Paul meant.

  “You have stuffed ragu?” she screamed.

  “Never mind.” I hung up.

  I grabbed the rest of the stuff from the bags and put them away. I blushed when I got to the pads and tampons, wondering how embarrassed Paul must have been when the cashier rang them up. I took them into the bathroom and tossed them in the bottom drawer of the vanity. I caught my reflection again and realized a shower had to be the first thing on the agenda.

  So I showered and washed my hair and thought about what Paul said. And when I was done thinking about that, I thought about Chase and Angela and what they might be doing on their honeymoon in Hawaii. And when that image brought a sickish feeling to my stomach, I switched back to Paul. What had he meant?

  I thought about it some more as I got dressed and towel-dried my hair. I made my way back into the kitchen to make an early dinner. I still wasn’t hungry but my stomach felt weak and I knew I needed to eat something.

  I opened the box of Cheerios and poured a bowl. I grabbed the milk but the thought of putting it on my cereal disgusted me so I shoveled them dry into my mouth.

  If it had been me, there wouldn’t have been a choice.

  So did that mean that, if he’d been acting for Chase, he would have chosen differently? Or did it mean that he—Paul—would have made a different decision?

  I stared at the wall, but the answer was not written anywhere that I could see.

  Paul and I had never dated. Paul and I had never done anything. He was one of those peripheral friends in high school. Sure, he was Chase’s best friend which meant we hung out a lot when he and I had been a couple. But it wasn’t like we went on double dates or anything. Paul had never had a serious girlfriend, at least not that I could remember. Jill had joked, more than once, that maybe he batted for the other team but I never believed that. He was always with a girl. Always had a date to dances, always had someone hanging on him at parties. And, more than once, had someone in the back seat of his pickup truck with him when Chase and I would stumble out of a party, ready to be driven home.

  I finished my cereal and rinsed out the bowl and returned to the couch. I flipped on the TV and turned it to Shark Week. It was an episode on shark attacks and I thought about how much a mako shark looked like Angela—big teeth and big, fixated eyes. I shivered.

  Shark Week lasted for hours. I sat through every episode, grateful for the diversion. When the doorbell buzzed me out of my TV-induced stupor, I almost leaped off the couch.

  Jill pushed the door open.

  “I thought you were in the Cities,” I said. “And thanks for giving me a heart attack.”

  “That was like three hours ago.” She surveyed the scene in my apartment. “What on earth are you doing?”

  “Watching TV.”

  “Yeah, I see that.” She made her way to the couch and sat down next to me. She smelled of cologne and cigarettes.

  “What kind of party were you at?” I asked.

  “Sailing club.”

  “Since when do you sail?”

  She smiled. “I don’t. Domenico does.”

  “And who is Domenico?” I pulled my knees under me.

  “A guy I met.” She paused for dramatic effect. “On the dating site.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Wait. Hear me out.” She whipped out her phone and tapped the screen. “Here. Look.”

  A gorgeous Italian man stared back at me.

  “That’s Domenico?”

  She nodded.

  “Why the hell does he need to use a dating site?”

  “Well, you know, it can be hard to find someone you have things in common with. And someone who can see past your good looks.”

  I snorted. “And what do you have in common with the hunk?”

  “Lots of things! We both love to cook. We like to discuss politics. We love to travel.”

  “And the sailing? Did you tell him you like sailing, too?”

  “I did.” Jill grinned. “I’m sure I’ll like it. Love it, even.”

  “Whatever.” I made a move to stand but she reached out her hand to stop me.

  “Wait a minute.” She swiped the screen. “Let me show you something.”

  I waited.

  “Here.” She handed the phone to me.

  It was opened to a new picture. Mine.

  “What is this??”

  “You.” She propped her long legs on the coffee table and crossed them. “I made an account for you.”

  I tosse
d the phone back into her lap. “Oh my God. I cannot believe you did this.”

  “Will you just let me explain?”

  “No.”

  She sighed. “I swear to God, you are the most impossible human on the planet.”

  “I’m impossible?” I glared at her. “I’m not the one who just made a fake account on a dating web site for a friend who doesn’t want to be hooked up.”

  “Yes, you do,” she said firmly. “You just don’t know it yet.”

  “Whatever.” I crossed my arms and shot daggers at her with my eyes.

  “We’ve already discussed this,” she said. “You need to move on.”

  “I don’t want to.” I knew I sounded like a pouting toddler. I didn’t care.

  “Shut up.” She picked up her phone and began to scroll. “And look at this.”

  When I didn’t take the phone from her outstretched hands, she shoved it in front of my face. The screen showed a mailbox. With seven messages.

  I raised my eyebrows. “So?”

  “These are messages for you. Guys interested in you.”

  I stared at the screen. The white envelope symbol, the blue number 7 in parentheses. Seven men. Interested in me. Seven men who were not Chase Somers.

  She scooted closer to me. “Look.”

  She tapped the screen and a list popped up. With teeny tiny pictures. She tapped on the first one. A dark-haired guy with a square jaw and a friendly smile blew up on my screen.

  “This is Doug.” She read the microscopic print under the photo. “He’s an electrician. He likes movies and motorcycles.”

  “Motorcycles?” I rolled my eyes.

  “But movies! You love movies.”

  “I cannot believe I’m having this conversation,” I muttered. “And I can’t believe I haven’t told you about Paul yet.”

  She ignored me and selected a different photo. A blond haired, blue-eyed man who was the spitting image of Chase gazed into my eyes. I ripped the phone from her hands.

  NINE

  I peered at the screen. “He likes movies, too. And camping. And he’s looking for someone with a good sense of humor. I’m funny, right?”

  “Sure.” Jill leaned closer so she could see the picture. She groaned. “Oh, no. Do not pick him. “

  “Why not?” I kept reading. “He’s a grad student. Cell biology. That means he’s smart. And he has a job. He works at the Arboretum. I like flowers.”

  She shook her head. “He isn’t Chase.”

  “I know that. His name…” I checked the screen. “His name is Bjorn.”

  She snorted. “Ya, dontcha know,” she said in an exaggerated accent. She’d moved to Minnesota the summer before eighth grade and loved to mock us natives. Especially the ones with Swedish roots.

  “I’ll go out with him,” I announced.

  “Duh.” She stood up and padded into the kitchen. “But, I’m warning you. You shouldn’t do it. Pick someone else. Someone that won’t remind you of your ex who is currently honeymooning in paradise. With someone else.”

  I flinched. “I know he’s not Chase.”

  She grabbed a diet Coke from the fridge and popped it open. “Bull. I was expecting to drag you to your first date. And now you’re suddenly ready to go? Willingly? There’s only one reason you’re on it. Because he’s a dead ringer for the ex.”

  “Maybe I only like blond-haired guys.” Did I? “Did you ever think of that?”

  “Or maybe you’ve only ever dated one guy ever in the history of your life and he just happened to be blond.”

  “Whatever.” I was quiet for a minute.

  I knew the website guy looked like Chase and I knew that was the only reason I was even considering meeting up with him. But I also knew that, if I didn’t go on this date, Jill would badger me until I did. Knowing her, she probably would drag me, kicking and screaming, out to meet someone. Someone she chose. No, thanks. Better to just get it over with. The bonus was I could sit at dinner and gaze at Bjorn and maybe, just maybe, my vision would blur just a bit and his features would soften and I could convince myself I was on a date with the only guy I wanted to be with. Pathetic, yes. But true.

  She rummaged in my cupboard and pulled out an opened package of chocolate chip cookies. “Fine. Go out with him. I’m OK with that. But you have to promise me something.”

  “What?”

  “Oh my God, these are stale.” She wrinkled her nose and tossed her half-eaten cookie in the trash. She wiped her hands on her shorts. “Promise me you’ll go on another date. With someone else.”

  “Ugh.” I shook my head.

  “Wait,” she said, holding up her hand. “Hear me out. One more person. Someone who doesn’t look like Chase. We can set both up now. One for tomorrow night and one for the next. You’ve got seven guys to choose from!”

  “Tomorrow?” I panicked. “I don’t want to go out with someone tomorrow. Aren’t you supposed to, like, get to know them first? Exchange e-mails and stuff?”

  Jill rolled her eyes. “Uh. No. People aren’t real online.”

  “Excuse me? Then why the hell did you sign me up for an online dating service?”

  She took a sip of her Coke. “Not what I meant. People can say whatever they want in emails. You’re not getting a real first impression. You need to meet in person.”

  “But–”

  She disappeared into my bedroom and returned carrying my laptop.

  “No buts,” she said, settling next to me on the couch. “Now let’s set up a date.”

  It was useless to argue. She pulled up the web site and logged me in and Chase’s doppelganger appeared and my heart tripped a little faster. Maybe this was the answer. Maybe the Universe was telling me I was supposed to be with this guy, not Chase. Somehow, wires had gotten crossed and Chase was accidentally introduced into my life and I’d gotten confused, thinking he was my soul mate. But maybe it was Bjorn all along? I’d have to pull out the tarot cards later.

  Jill pecked at the keyboard. She opened a calendar and typed a message while I sat next to her, daydreaming.

  By the time it was all said and done and she was packing up and wishing me goodnight, I realized two things. One: I had a date with the Chase lookalike. And two: I’d never gotten around to telling her about Paul.

  TEN

  Chase’s doppelganger was five minutes late. Just long enough for me to panic. I felt light-headed and sick as I sat, alone, at a table at The Irish Lass. How could he stand me up? He hadn’t even met me yet. I whipped out my phone and texted Jill.

  He’s not here.

  Relax.

  He stood me up!!

  He’s five minutes late. He’s coming from Chaska.

  I’m leaving.

  “Bonnie?”

  I looked up. Bjorn stood in front of me, looking decidedly un-Chase like. For one, he was at least six inches shorter. I was pretty sure he wasn’t much taller than me. So much for being a tall Swede. He also wore glasses. Not cool ones like Jill, but half-inch wide black frames with thick lenses that might’ve set me on fire if the sun had been on the other side of them.

  “Uh, hi.” I shoved my phone back in my purse and stood up. My knee hit the table and my glass of water tipped over.

  Bjorn rushed to grab it at the same time I did. Our heads clunked together.

  “Ow.” He rubbed his temple.

  I was sure my face couldn’t get any redder. “Oh my gosh. I’m sorry.”

  A waiter descended and whisked away the soaked tablecloth. Bjorn stood there, unsure what to do next.

  “Do you think we stay at this table?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  So we stood there and alternated between glancing around and looking at each other. My phone dinged in my purse. Jill. Texting me. What would she do in this situation? Probably not stand around, looking like a cow waiting to be led to slaughter.

  The waiter returned and placed a dry tablecloth on the table.

  Bjorn sat. “Well, that was an
interesting start.”

  “Yeah.” I forced a smile. “Sorry again.”

  He took the menu the waiter handed him and opened it. “So. Are you always this clumsy?”

  “Excuse me?”

  He laughed and it reminded me of my babysitting years, watching Swiper the Fox giggle menacingly at his own antics. “I was kidding.”

  “Oh.”

  “Do you want a drink? A beer or something?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not 21 yet.”

  He cocked his head. “You mean you listed your real age on that site?”

  I nodded. I didn’t know what Jill had said about me. She was the one who’d created my profile.

  “Huh.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “I thought everyone lied on those things.”

  I wondered what he might have lied about on his.

  An awkward silence settled between us.

  “So,” I said, unable to take the silence. “You’re a grad student at U of M?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Cell biology. And you’re…you work at a toy store?”

  “Yeah. And I go to school.”

  “Right, right.” He furrowed his brow. “The community college here.”

  He said it like I was enrolled in beauty school. I felt my blood pressure rise.

  We ordered our food—a hamburger for him and a bowl of Irish stew for me—and I tried again.

  I sipped the glass of water the waiter had delivered. “What’s it like working at the Arboretum? I’ve only been there once.”

  We’d gone at Christmas time when I was a kid, to their big gingerbread house display in the main lodge. I’d never walked the grounds.

  He shrugged. “It’s a job. I maintain trails.”

  “Are you interested in botany?”

  “No.” He grinned. “Animals.”

  I loved animals. “Oh? I guess there would be a lot there on the trails. What do you see there?”

  “The usual. Squirrels. Some fox and coyote. Lots of turtles.”

  “I love turtles!” I smiled. The turtle was my totem animal. Finally, a connection.

  “Oh, cool.”

  The waiter returned and set our food in front of us.

  Bjorn took a bite of his hamburger. He talked as he chewed. “Yeah, they taste amazing.”