One or Two Things I Learned About Love

by Dyan Sheldon

  Connor said I gave him my gran’s phone number. I said no I didn’t. He said yes you did. Don’t you remember? How could I remember when I didn’t give it to him? He said yes you did, Hildy. Did I? Am I really and truly losing my mind? Because if you think about it, I must’ve given it to him. She’s not listed. How else would he get it? And why? I mean if he wanted her number, he’d ask me. So I am losing my mind. Or this is very early senility creeping in?

  If there is a Hell, am I going to go there for being a person whose grandmother lies for her? Will I be the sinner there with the longest nose?

  Max got back from the world of arts and crafts and mosquito bites on Saturday. Cristina says he looks exactly the same except darker and with a scar where he got hit by an arrow. She was really glad to see him. And vice versa. I said wasn’t he worried that you might date somebody else while he was away? She said no. I said and you weren’t worried that he might date somebody else while he was away? She said no. I said why not? Cristina said why bother worrying about what might happen? It wouldn’t stop it from happening. All it would do is make her unhappy. And then she’d make him unhappy. And then he probably would start looking around. Cristina said and anyway, if Max did cheat on her, then there’d be plenty of time to be miserable. And to make him feel really, really bad.

  As soon as they got home from work, I went over to give Louie’s parents the frame I got them for their anniversary. I had a terrific picture of Louie, Scorsese and Hitchcock all sitting in Mr Masiado’s chair (Scorsese and Hitchcock are wearing Santa hats and Louie’s wearing antlers) so I put that in it. They loved it. Mr Masiado held it up and said, “Who would’ve thought when I asked Rose if she wanted to go to the movies she’d someday give birth to Bambi?” Louie and Mrs Masiado both groaned and rolled their eyes. I asked them what they think the secret of their long and happy marriage is. Mr Masiado said Mrs Masiado. Mrs Masiado said she figured she married the right man. Louie said, “You see? They can’t even agree on that!” They were going out for dinner but Louie’d baked them a cake and they insisted I have a piece with them. We were all sitting in the living room, tucking into our slices, when this face suddenly appeared pressing against the screen door like something out of a horror movie. Mr Masiado screamed and dropped his plate. It was Connor. He wanted to know if I forgot he was picking me up. I said of course not. Didn’t my mom tell him that I wanted to give the Masiados their anniversary present before we went out? He said yes, but not loudly. So I had to take my cake with me. I thought it was going to be one of those Connor-impersonates-a-brick-wall nights but instead he said he was sorry for scaring Mr Masiado. He’d forgotten about the anniversary. When my mother said I was across the street he’d thought I was hanging out with Louie. Connor said, “You know how I get. I can’t help it.” But he is getting better. He apologized. And he wasn’t mad at me. You see? Love will save the day!

  On Saturday, Mr Donnegal, the Dashers’ coach, is having a mighty end-of-summer party for them. Everybody’s invited. Including me. All the guys are bringing dates. Connor says he can’t wait to show me off. What am I going to wear? I don’t have a clue!

  It was kind of quiet on the stand today. Ely and I did some juggling and talked. Just about regular stuff. Yakyakyak. He was really funny about some disaster dates he’s had. I guess I get a little nervous sometimes when I’m talking to Connor in case I say the wrong thing so it was nice just to say whatever came into my head. Until some evil spirit rose up from the general pollution and infected my brain because all of a sudden I heard myself asking Ely if he’d ever been jealous. I couldn’t believe I said that. Talk about having a big mouth. Why did I ask him that? He said jealous of what? I said oh you know. Just in general. He said you mean jealous of people who don’t drive 15-year-old pick-up trucks? Or of people who are under seven feet tall? I said forget it. He said are we talking about Connor? I said of course not. Connor doesn’t have a jealous corpuscle in his whole body. He’s caring, loving and protective, but he’s definitely not jealous. Ely cocked his head to one side like he wanted to see me from a different angle. He said, “So are we talking about you? You go around reading Connor’s emails and checking his phone messages? I had no idea you counted espionage among your many talents, Hildy.” I said yeah. And when I have nothing else to do I put on a blonde wig and a false nose and I go to Café Olé! to see who he’s talking to. Ely said I guess he’d recognize you if you went as a lettuce. We couldn’t stop laughing. But later I remembered what Ely had said and I wondered if that’s what Connor does. Not the blonde wig and the nose. The emails and messages. Is that how he knew where Gran lives? And then I couldn’t believe I’d thought that. Now who’s being paranoid? I wonder when I’m going to start becoming a better person.

  Connor says not to worry about what I’m wearing to the party. He says I always look good, no matter what. I said you’ve never seen me with terminal bedhead or when I’ve had the flu or you wouldn’t say that. And I look kind of jaundiced in anything yellow. He said I could wear dungarees and waders and my hair could look like it’s been electrocuted and I’d still look great to him. (How sweet is that?) Nomi doesn’t believe him. She said she once answered the door to Jax when she was hennaing her hair (she thought he was her mother), and he didn’t say, “Oh my darling Nomi you still look beautiful to me even with what looks like blood dripping down your face and a GAP bag over your head.” He screamed.

  I’ve come up with a new theory. I call it the There’ll Be Another Train In A Few Seconds Theory Of Worry. Because as soon as I stopped worrying about how to convince Gus to lend me that peach silk shirt for the party, I thought of a couple of things I might want to worry about even more. I mean, it is a party. I’ve never been in a really big group of people with Connor before, but I don’t have a good feeling about it. Everybody’s going to be shining like sparklers. Laughing. Dancing. Fooling around. Flirting. Even if they’re not really flirting they’ll look like they are. Connor says it doesn’t matter what I wear, but I BEG TO DIFFER. All the girls are going to be dressed up like birthday cakes. Only I can’t wear some filmy top or skimpy skirt like everybody else. Connor’ll think I’m trying to attract other boys. Especially if he sees anybody actually looking at me. And I can’t possibly talk to people. Not in a party kind of way. Especially not boy people. With boys I have to stick to hi. And I can’t look at them. Not for more than a second or two. But the place will be full of boys. How can I not look at them? How can I not talk to them? What am I going to do? Sit next to Connor wearing baggy jeans and a sweatshirt and looking at the floor? I can’t spend the night in the bathroom. Can I? Would that even be possible?

  None of my party clothes are going to work. They’re either too short, too tight, too thin, or too little. Gus was going shopping so since Connor was busy I went with her. I figured that if Connor did see me out with my sister at least I had a good excuse. She acted like me going with her was the human equivalent of Halley’s Comet. Something you only see every 75 years if the visibility’s good. I said I didn’t know what she was making such a major musical production about. It’s not like I’ve never gone shopping with her before. She said this summer it is. She said she’s asked me tons of times and I always act like she’s trying to lure me into the forest to leave me there for wild animals to eat. Maybe I should go shopping with Gus more often. We had a really good time. She’s pretty much to fashion what Sherlock Holmes is to crime. She can tell you in half a second whether that top is going to make your neck look too long or whether that colour makes you look like you need a blood transfusion. She picked out a couple of things for me that I have to admit were immensely flattering and cool – a sundress, a blouse and a skirt – but I rejected them all. The dress and the skirt were too short. Gus said, “Too short for what? You’re not hiking through the tall grass in them. You’re going to a party.” Not in one of those. The blouse was too gauzy. “That’s why they invented the cami top, Hildy.” Right, one step up from a bra. Connor’d love that. But even thou
gh I vetoed all her suggestions, we were getting along so well that I asked her if she’d ever gone out with anyone who was jealous. She said, “Jealous?” like it was a word I just made up. I told her about the Countess and how gorgeous she was and what she’d said about her husband never getting jealous. I said I wondered if guys ever got jiggy about Gus because she looks like she does. Gus said just one guy gave her a hard time. Barry Lincoln. She said she ignored it at first because she didn’t see him that much and she had a brain-addling crush on him, but then one night they were at a party and he had a nervous breakdown because he found her talking to some other boy. Gus said it was monumental. Barry was yelling and screaming and shoving the other guy. And then he hauled him off to deck him. I said what did you do? Gus dumped a bowl of sour-cream dip over Barry’s head and went home. She never spoke to Barry again. He didn’t apologize? She said oh he apologized. But what did that do? If you wipe out an entire village and then say how sorry you are, those people are all still dead.

  Went over to Connor’s and watched a disaster movie. Disaster movies are cool because if you get involved with kissing you never really feel like you missed anything.

  Connor says there are going to be way over a hundred people at the party on Saturday. That seems a bit excessive. There aren’t a hundred people on the team. Not even close. But Coach Donnegal’s invited all the local players whether they’re Clashers or Timber Wolves or whatever.

  I put orange juice on my cereal this morning. I nearly hit Green Pick-up Guy with a zucchini while Ely and I were showing him the double-turn cascade this afternoon. And Ely thinks I packed his sunglasses in with somebody’s vegetables. He said he knew I’d bite his head off for asking, but since he doesn’t want any more of his possessions to end up in someone’s soup were there storm clouds over Paradise or did Zelda whack me in the head with one of her larger dinosaurs again? I said the sun was shining on the garden of love and that Zelda’s been remarkably non-violent lately. Then I told him about the party. He said he’d never heard of anyone being worried about going to a party before. What’s to worry about? You go, you eat your weight in snacks, you dance, you argue with people about what music to play next, and you go home. I said oh you know. He said no he didn’t think he did. I muttered about meeting all these new people and how stressful it is. He said remember when you were a friendly, outgoing extrovert who enjoyed talking to everyone, no matter how bizarre or difficult they were? Was I?

  Today was Connor’s last day at work so he picked me up from the stand. I should never have said anything about him not liking Ely because even though I still had twenty minutes left of my shift he wouldn’t get out of the car. I noticed Ely didn’t bother waving or anything either. Connor just sat there watching us. Like an FBI agent doing surveillance. Only we knew he was there of course. It made me feel really self-conscious. Ely said I could leave early. He said he felt like he was holding me against my will. Like he was Juliet’s father making her finish doing the dishes when poor Romeo was under the balcony waiting for her.

  Went over to Connor’s. He was putting together a play list for the party on his iPod. There are a lot of songs the whole team likes. And then there are songs that different players like. And Coach Donnegal has a thing about Bruce Springsteen. Connor said the last big party he went to he was dating this girl who spent the whole night making eye contact with some guy from another team. Connor finally got so fed up that he dragged her across the room and shoved her at him. Then he went home. He hasn’t been to a party since. But he’s really looking forward to this one. Because of me. I feel like the Leader of the Free World. It’s a big responsibility. What if I accidentally lead the Free World into a nuclear war?

  Migraine. I went. I saw. I vomited. Will write more if I survive.

  I’m much better today, but last night I thought there were about five hundred very small devils with pitchforks and incredibly sharp hooves inside my head and they were all trying to stab and kick their way out. I wasn’t sick when we first got to the party. I had a little headache but I figured that was just nerves. Otherwise I was OK. Connor and I held hands. Every time he introduced me to someone I’d say, hi, nice to meet you, whatever, and then the guy would introduce his date and she’d say, hi, nice to meet you, and then the two of us would smile at each other while the boys talked about softball or whatever. If Connor introduced me to someone who wasn’t with a girl, I’d say, hi, nice to meet you, and then I’d look at Connor while the two of them talked about softball or whatever. I kept squeezing Connor’s hand so he’d glance over and see me looking at him. And then Albie and Genie came over. I guess it was such a relief to have somebody I could talk to without him getting mad at me that I got involved with Genie and forgot to keep looking at Connor, and when I did he wasn’t there. Genie thought he and Albie went for something to eat. She said it’s not like they’re going to get lost. They’ll be back. But I went to look for Connor anyway. Which was harder than you’d think. It was like trying to get through the woods without seeing any trees. People I knew and people I didn’t know kept trying to talk to me in a friendly, hey-it’s-a-party kind of way. I kept nodding and smiling and pushing past them. I was about a hundred miles out of the town of Nervous and steaming into the city of Panic. Every time someone said something to me I looked around to see if Connor was watching. Was this girl an obvious flirt? Was this guy putting the moves on me? And when some guy actually grabbed my hand and tried to dance, I pulled away so fast he ricocheted off the table behind him. It looked like it was snowing potato chips. I finally found Connor out on the deck, eating a hamburger and talking to Coach Donnegal and some of the other guys on the team. I slipped my arm through his and leaned against him. But by then the devils were already in my head. And the longer I stood there, smiling and looking at Connor, the more enthusiastic they got with hurling their pitchforks around and kick-boxing my eyeballs. It was like a really tiny devils’ jamboree. It was Coach Donnegal who noticed I’d turned green. He wanted to know if I was all right. Albie’s mother gets migraines so he’s something of an expert. He wanted to know if I was going to throw up. I could only nod. After I was sick Connor took me home. He was really worried. He kept patting my hand as he drove and telling me I was going to be all right. He went back to the party but he called my mother five times on the landline to make sure I was OK. That’s how worried he was. He said he’s never seen anybody actually turn green before. I was almost sorry I missed it.

  I stayed in bed yesterday (even Zelda tiptoed around like she was impersonating a mouse, so I must’ve been sicker than I thought). I slept on and off the whole day. And I had a lot of weird dreams that I don’t really remember but they left me feeling kind of sad. Like I’d lost something but I didn’t know what. So even though I felt OK today I decided to take it really easy. Nomi came over and we sat out on the new really-a-deck-at-last and listened to music and talked. She said she didn’t know I got migraines. I said I didn’t. Not until Saturday. She said this really is a summer of firsts for you, isn’t it? First date. First kiss. First boyfriend. First killer headache from hell. I said don’t forget it’s also the first time I’ve dressed as a head of lettuce. Zelda came out and wanted to know what was so funny.

  Connor came over tonight. He brought me a get-well present. It’s a necklace – a silver heart with our initials engraved on it. He said he was so worried about me yesterday that he went to the jewellery store at the mall during his lunch hour and bought it for me. (How ROMANTIC is that?) We sat out on the really-a-deck, which is much better than sitting on the porch because there’s nobody to see you kissing. Until Gus and Abe Zimmerman showed up. Gus said they had decided to officially open the new deck. Just in time for winter. They had a pack of those Chinese sky lanterns to send off into the night. You’re supposed to make a wish. So of course everybody came out to light a lantern and make a wish. My mom was afraid we were going to start a fire but even Zelda got her lantern in the air without torching Lebanon Road. When we were finally alo
ne again Connor wanted to know what my wish was. I said you can’t tell your wish or it won’t come true. He said he bet it was the same thing he wished. Since anyone who isn’t me who so much as glances at this diary will immediately be struck down by a bolt of lightning I can say here that I doubt that. I wished I never have a migraine again. Ever. But I didn’t say that to Connor. I didn’t want to ruin the love mood. I said that wasn’t much of a bet. And then we melted into each other’s arms. Bliss.

  Connor wanted to know what I’m going to do while he’s away. What I’m doing from Friday is staying with Nomi because there’s a big Labor Day old junk convention and her parents are leaving her alone again, and on Sunday the other girls are coming over for a pyjama party. Not that I told Connor any of that. I said, “Not much.” I said we’re having the inaugural barbecue on the new deck on Labor Day, but otherwise I’ll just be hanging around the house. Psyching myself up for going back to school. Missing him. Hoping he doesn’t fall in the river or get stabbed with a hook. Sending him texts and emails he won’t get until he gets back to civilization.