by TB Markinson
I lay back down but didn’t bother resuming my finger fun. “Interesting! That’s a word you toss out at the water cooler when talking about a vice-presidential debate you didn’t bother watching. The Sox are playing the Yanks. It’s one of the oldest and most cherished sports rivalries of all time—”
“Aside from Harvard versus Yale,” she joked.
“That’s never a competition since Yale always loses. No, Boston and New York… How do I say this? It’s epic. As a Bostonian, you have to witness it. I can’t believe you haven’t yet. It’s criminal, really. It’ll be life changing. Seriously. It’ll make you a better artist, person, girlfriend—Jesus, Kat, you grew up in Boston. You should know this. Sox and the Yanks—it’s in our blood. If New York wasn’t the hub of publishing, I would never visit. I hate the Yankees that much. You should, too.” I spoke earnestly.
“Cori?” she said softly, maybe in an attempt to calm me down.
“Kat.” I gripped the phone tighter.
“Are you aware you’re babbling?”
“What you call babbling, I call passion. After the game, you’ll realize.” I was nodding vigorously.
“Are you also aware you let a certain word slip out?” I could hear the smile in her voice.
I closed my eyes in a fruitless attempt to replay my dialogue. “Uh…”
“Does that uh mean you remember or that you don’t have a clue about which one I mean?”
“The latter.”
“I had a feeling. You know, it’s actually better that way. More natural, which is important when it comes to you.”
I laughed. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“I know.” She laughed with me.
“You keep saying that.”
“Does it scare you?” Her voice was teasing.
“Should it?” It was hard not to smile.
“You tell me.”
I groaned. “You can be so frustrating.”
“Says the woman who keeps slipping out in the middle of the night.”
I didn’t have a sufficient reply, so I said, “You don’t have the yellow Listerine I like. I’m a nut when it comes to dental hygiene.”
“Is that really the reason? Because that problem is easily solved.” She emphasized the word that.
I stayed quiet.
“That’s what I thought.” She laughed.
“So funny.”
“What are you doing right now?”
I rolled on my side, holding the phone to my right ear. “Talking on the phone with the most frustrating woman on the planet.”
“Sounds challenging.”
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Very much.”
“Then stop running.” I could practically picture her frustration.
“I want to.”
Kat stayed quiet for a moment. “But?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Even complicated things can easily unravel if you let them.”
“Is that a Chinese proverb or something?” I laughed.
“Does this have something to do with Annie?”
I flipped onto my back, pulling the comforter over me. “It’s getting cold in the mornings.”
“I must have hit a nerve if you’re switching to the weather.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Try.”
“I’m great at meeting women. Parents in my social circles encourage their daughters to get to know me.”
“By seducing you.” She wasn’t posing it as a question.
But I still asked, “Was that a statement or a question?”
“Are you avoiding?”
“Everyone has this opinion that I’m fast and loose but reluctant to get entangled. But, I… with you… it’s different. That’s—”
She interjected, “The scary part.”
“Yes and no. I don’t think I’m good in relationships.”
“Why?”
“Can’t talk about it really.”
“Hmmm.” I could envision her mulling over her next words. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t.”
“Interesting.”
“There’s that word again.” I tried laughing but couldn’t muster the sincerity.
Kat didn’t speak.
“You still there?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“But…?”
“I think this is a conversation we need to have face-to-face.”
That didn’t sound good. “Okay. You want me to come over?”
“Now?” she sounded shocked.
“Of course.”
“I thought you had a meeting with one of your professors.”
“I do.”
“And you’d miss it?”
“I’d walk through fire for you.”
“Go to the meeting. It might be best to let things stew.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “Promise me it won’t fester.”
“That’s inter—”
“I’m starting to hate that word.”
“Tell me what word you love.”
I wanted to scream I love you! “Red Sox.”
“That’s two.”
“I can’t wait for the weekend to see you. Will you let me take you to dinner and a movie tomorrow after helping Barb?”
“Counting the hours until I get you alone again.”
“I’m counting the seconds.”
“I’m going back to sleep now. Go on your run. Don’t forget to eat breakfast—not a breakfast bar. Have a good day. Pick me up at nine tomorrow.” She sounded half-asleep.
“Kat?”
“Yes?”
“I…”
Her soft laughter was the sweetest sound. “I know.”
“You may be the only one who does.”
“Deep down, you do as well.”
Chapter Sixteen
That afternoon, I’d received a text from Annie and Sheila stating if I didn’t have drinks with them later, they’d cut me off. Not bothering to ask from what exactly, I dutifully showed right when Sheila ended her shift, curious to see how Annie would act after that awful conversation on the bench a couple of weeks ago. I was extremely grateful she was doing her best to salvage our friendship.
Annie had already claimed a table near the window.
“You aren’t dead, then?” Annie poured a beer from a pitcher.
Relieved Annie was opting to play the part of my best friend, not brokenhearted ex-lover, I said, “Not the last time I checked. Give me a mirror so I can see if I’m breathing.”
“So funny. Not.” Annie crossed her arms, and I couldn’t determine if the evening was about to take a drastic turn for the worse.
Hesitantly, I took a seat so I could watch pedestrians and traffic along Chestnut Hill Avenue. To broach the awkwardness, I said, “Too bad it’s not snowing.”
Annie glanced over her shoulder, keeping her arms close to her chest and looking out the window. “Watching people parallel park during a snowstorm is one of the things I’ll miss about this place.” Her voice held sadness, again putting me on edge. Was she sad about leaving Boston, her home since she was five? Or…? One of the things I’d always admired about Annie was her toughness. The past couple of months had proven it was a veneer. Would it hold this evening?
Sheila arrived in time to hear this and laughed. “We’re really pathetic, aren’t we?” She slid into the chair next to Annie.
I set my pint glass on the black laminated table. “No way. It should be part of the Winter Olympics. Do you remember that Californian student last winter? It took her seven minutes and thirty-nine seconds before she abandoned her car with the front end up on the sidewalk.”
Annie’s head swung around, her expression combative.
I knifed the air with my palms. �
�I swear. I timed her on my phone.”
Annie dismissed the conversation and launched into the subject I’d hoped I could avoid. “How’s what’s-her-name?”
Not willing to open the proverbial can of worms, I said, “The terrible driver?” I tapped my chin with the edge of a Coors Light coaster. “How should I know? We only went on one date, and I didn’t keep in touch.”
Sheila, who had been balancing her chair on the back two legs, let it crash forward onto the floor. “You went on a date with California?”
“When I helped her car off the iceberg, she gave me her number. What was I supposed to do?”
“You’re the only person I know who scores when shoveling snow.”
Annie shot Sheila a look and, for good measure, motioned for Sheila to shut her trap. “How’s the woman who has been monopolizing your time?”
I found it mildly amusing that Annie refused to say Kat’s name. The veneer was holding strong.
She continued, “We haven’t been to a Sox game since May. Not one barbeque at your place. We have to threaten you, basically, for you to come out for drinks. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how many times you’ve glanced at your phone to check for messages or the time.” She met my eyes. “Seven.”
I folded my hands on the table, opting not to mention Kat wasn’t the sole reason I hadn’t been around Annie. “Don’t be so dramatic. I’ve been writing. When my muse works her magic, I’m under her complete control.” I tapped my fingers on the tabletop, pretending it was a keyboard.
“Writing muse, huh? Does she lock you up on a deserted island, because I’ve dropped by your place twice in the past five days, late at night, and you haven’t been home.”
Sheila placed a hand on Annie’s leg. “I think we need to set some alone time aside to discuss stalking. Or at least concoct a plausible story for when the neighbors call the cops. Speaking as your future attorney, of course.”
Annie flicked Sheila’s hand off her leg. “I’m not a stalker!”
“Of course not. It’s totally normal to hang outside Cori’s place with night vision goggles.” Sheila snickered, making me question her motive.
Annie jumped out of her seat and charged toward the bathroom.
Sheila shook her head. “There’s a lesson here.”
“Annie doesn’t like sarcasm?” I placed the coaster halfway over the edge of the table and proceeded to flip it with my fingertips, catching it in midair.
The song “Love the Way You Lie” played overhead.
“How fitting.” She dipped her head backward, laughing.
I locked my eyes on hers. “Don’t compare me to an abusive asshole, please. The situation with Annie is hard enough. No need to put those thoughts in my head.”
She mimed waving a white flag. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t nice.” She looked over her shoulder. “Before Annie comes back, tell me the truth. Have you met a special someone?”
“Maybe.” I was unable to stop a smile from forming.
Sheila leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “You have!”
I continued grinning like a fool.
“Is she the one?”
“Whoa!” I protected my face as if about to get punched. “That’s quite the leap.”
“But I’ve never seen you like this. For you, you’re acting like a lovesick fool.”
“Because I’m smiling?”
“It’s more. Your aura is practically chanting, fuck yeah!” She flicked her fingers in the air like a demented dancer not trained in the art of subtlety.
“Such a romantic.”
Sheila put a finger to her lips. “Shush! She’s coming back.”
Annie, no fool, quickly surmised that Sheila was warning me to shut my trap.
“I can’t believe you two! Talking behind my back!” Annie stormed out of the bar.
I leapt to my feet, but Sheila yanked on my arm. “Let her go, Cori.”
“I think she’s crying.” I stared at the door Annie had vacated.
“I saw that, but you can’t chase after her.” Sheila rose. “I’ll go.”
“We should both go. Annie needs me.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” Sheila shook her head. “You can’t solve the problem, because you are the problem.” She flipped on her heel and chased after Annie.
I retook my seat and turned my attention to the Sox game on the tiny TV mounted to the black wall at eyelevel on my right. Over the remaining six innings, I finished the pitcher and two additional pints.
Much to my surprise, Sheila reappeared as I was exiting.
“I’ll walk you home,” she said.
“S-sure,” I stuttered.
Sheila hooked her arm through mine, I think in an effort to keep me from stumbling too much.
“How’s Annie?” I asked as we waited for the light to turn on Commonwealth Avenue.
“She’ll be fine.”
“Should I call her?”
“Not tonight.”
“Tomorrow?” The light turned, and I stepped into the street, unsteady on my feet. A group of students who had exited the train swarmed past us.
Sheila tightened the grip on my arm.
Someone muttered dykes.
I stopped in my tracks, but Sheila, with surprising strength, forced me back onto our path to my home.
Inside my house, I made for the fridge. “Beer?”
“Do you think you need more?”
“Need, no.” I shook my head, swaying some on my feet. “Want, yes.” I nodded eagerly.
With a look of disgust, she still accepted the proffered bottle.
“My back hurts.” I kneaded the spot that had troubled me since a car accident years ago. “Hot tub?” I asked.
“I don’t have a suit.”
“I can give you a tank top and some shorts.”
She nodded.
In my bedroom, I struggled getting my legs through the swimsuit bottoms. After three failed attempts, the last with me stumbling into the side of the bed, I opted for a pair of basketball shorts and kept my T-shirt on.
Sheila looked me over, smirking, but she didn’t question my wardrobe choice.
In the tub, neither of us spoke for several moments. For an August night, there was a nip in the air. I massaged the back of my neck, with my body submerged as far as I could without drowning. My neighbors were fast asleep, considering all the dark skeletons of houses against the inky sky. The outline of the willow tree in the yard to my right made me think of Annie’s stooped shoulders. I splashed water against my face.
“Does your girl know about Annie?” Sheila asked.
“Kat. Please call her by name.”
Sheila appraised me with an approving nod. “Does Kat know about Annie?”
“Yes. She even knows your name.” I smiled.
“You didn’t break my heart.”
“I never meant to break anyone’s.”
“Does Kat know you have relationship issues?”
I glanced up at the waning moon. “Not sure I laid everything bare, counselor, but she knows I wasn’t a virgin.”
Sheila relaxed some. “I can’t believe summer is almost over. Of course, all good things must come to an end.”
I squinted at her with one eye. “You aren’t talking about summer, are you?”
“And here I thought you were dense.”
“Please, I deal with subtext for a living.”
She belted out a laugh, quickly smothering her mouth with both hands. “Sorry,” she whispered to the quiet neighborhood. “Is the writing going well, then?”
“I have a good feeling about the latest story I submitted for publication.”
“Care to elaborate?” She turned her head to the side, staring at me with her left eye, a habit of hers.
“Not one bit.” I scrunched down. “I spend so much time trapped in my head with my characters I hate talking about them. And, don’t get me started o
n how much I despise discussing my process.”
“You’re so weird about some things.”
Chapter Seventeen
On Sunday, Kat and I hit the Reservoir T stop early to miss the Red Sox swarm and scored two side-by-side seats as opposed to the bench seats with a lot less privacy, albeit they offered more legroom.
My knees butted against the seat in front.
She placed a hand on my leg. “You’re fidgeting like a little kid.”
“How are you not excited? You. Me. The Sox versus the Yankees.” I whacked my thigh with my hand.
“Trust me, I’m creaming my pants.”
I ignored the sarcasm in her tone and whispered in her ear. “You are?”
“You’re free to check under the hood to find out for yourself.” She leaned back as if daring me to take her up on the offer.
The train rolled into the Beaconsfield station, and my eyes scanned the trees near the platform, looking for privacy.
Kat laughed.
“What?” I asked.
“When we have sex in the great outdoors, it won’t be along train tracks.” She wrinkled her nose at the unappealing surroundings.
“When?” My voice cracked.
She faced me. “Do you doubt me?”
I shook my head. “Never.”
Several people, decked out in Red Sox shirts and hats, boarded.
Kat glanced down at her top. “I’m not dressed appropriately.”
I evaluated her floral print halter top that showed her midriff. “It’s supposed to be hot today. I think you chose wisely.”
I tugged on the front of my navy T-shirt, sweat already forming under my tits.
“Are there stores close to Fenway?”
I rolled my eyes. “Are you just looking for a chance to shop?”
Kat chewed on her lower lip, perhaps a tell for fibbing. “Of course not. I want to fit in.” She waved to everyone who sported some type of Red Sox article, trying to reinforce the shopping emergency.
“Don’t worry. There’ll be plenty of opportunities to buy a hat or something. You could wear mine.” I started to remove it, but Kat shook her head as I’d expected she would.
True enough, walking from the Fenway stop to the park, every seller attempted to lure Kat into making an impulse purchase. Like a pro, Kat’s eyes skimmed the wares, not settling on the T-shirts. By the looks of them, the decals would flake off or the fabric would disintegrate after a few washes. Perhaps both.