The Romantics

by Leah Konen

  Kneeling down next to him was a girl in a zip-up hoodie, Sriracha T-shirt, faded jeans, and Birkenstocks. Long, wispy blond hair peeked from beneath her bike helmet, which was covered with stickers of bands he’d never heard of. Her round cheeks were flushed red. “I can’t believe I just did that,” she said, her eyes getting all watery. “Are you okay?”

  Gael pushed himself up to a sitting position and scooted onto the curb. “I’m all right, I think. What happened?”

  “There was a cat,” she said. “Darted right across the street in front of me. I swerved to miss it, but you were right there.”

  “Hit the human instead of the cat,” he said caustically. “Nice.”

  Her face fell to a frown. “I really am sorry,” she repeated.

  Gael instantly felt bad. It wasn’t enough that he’d publicly told his parents and Piper that he wished they’d all go away. Now he was snipping at random girls, too. Anika and Mason deserved it, sure, but the rest of the world? Not so much. He didn’t want to sink to their level. He wondered if he had already.

  Gael brushed the beery dirt off his shirt. “I was just kidding. I probably would have saved the kitty, too.” His voice softened. “But you should look where you’re going before you swerve. What if there had been a car? You could have been wiped out.”

  “I know.” She bit her lip. “I had a biking accident recently. I’m all out of practice.”

  Gael ignored the ache in the back of his leg and the smell of beer emanating from the fibers of his T-shirt. “Eesh,” he said. “An accident? That sucks. Were you okay?”

  The girl smiled genuinely, and he had a deeply naïve thought, one that even he could tell was naïve: She’s not the kind of girl who’d cheat on her boyfriend. “I’m fine, thanks. No bones broken, at least. But I guess I’m just a bit of a nervous rider now. I thought a quick ride to Cosmic would be no big deal, but I was wrong.”

  A girl who liked Cosmic and wouldn’t cheat on him, he thought. Man, he had to stop this. Was he so messed up that he was projecting all his feelings onto the first girl he met?

  (Yes, oh yes, he was. The Rebound is always a risk, but I hadn’t worried too much about it with Gael given that he’d essentially become a social recluse. But now, one walk home alone, and I was already on the defensive. Not to mention, the Rebound in question was also a Meet Cute. You know, when two people run into each other out of the blue, and suddenly everyone thinks it’s meant to be. Humans are experts at focusing so much on how they found someone over who that person actually is and if they’re truly the right one. Le sigh.)

  While Gael was debating whether it was totally cliché to crush on the first girl he met after Anika, his stomach growled as if unaware of his internal struggle.

  “You got Cosmic?” he asked timidly.

  The girl’s gray eyes brightened. “You’re a Cosmic fan?”

  Gael smiled wide. “Isn’t everyone? It’s the best food on Franklin besides Spanky’s, I-M-H-O.”

  “What do you order there?” she asked playfully, like this was some sort of challenge he had to pass.

  Gael and Anika used to have drawn-out philosophical battles about what was better at Cosmic, nachos or burritos. The memory left with him with a visceral emptiness. And it wasn’t just the hunger in his stomach.

  “Nachos,” he said. “And, yes, I realize that everyone else prefers the burritos.”

  “Well, it’s your lucky day,” she said. “Because I don’t. You want some?”

  Gael hesitated. He knew he should probably just go home, change his clothes, and take an Advil for the ache in his leg. He should apologize to his parents and be honest about what was going on with him. Hell, maybe he should even join his mom at a yoga class and, even crazier, tell his dad that a joint therapy session wasn’t that horrible of an idea. Maybe they could even address his dad’s secretive behavior.

  But the thing was, he knew he wouldn’t. He would watch more movies and eat more Snickers and take more unnecessary naps and continue to feel totally and completely shitty.

  Plus, he thought, didn’t he deserve this?

  A nice, cute (if he was being totally honest) girl was offering him his favorite meal on his birthday. Sure, he didn’t even know her name yet, but why not say yes?

  “I really shouldn’t take your food,” he said, offering her an easy out if she wanted one.

  “Please.” Her face broke into a smile. “Cosmic is pretty paltry payment for being run down. And nachos are easy to share.”

  The girl stood up, lifted the bike, and retrieved the plastic bag underneath. She wheeled the bike out of the street, leaned it against the curb, and sat back down next to him.

  “I’m Cara, by the way.” She reached out her hand.

  “I’m Gael.” He shook hers in turn. “Do you live around here?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Close by.”

  Gael stared at her. “I haven’t seen you in school.”

  Cara smiled again. “I’m actually a freshman at UNC.”

  A nice, cute, college freshman who liked Cosmic. And unlike Sammy, a college freshman who didn’t seem to be filled to the brim with big, pretentious ideas. Gael thought it was almost too good to be true.

  “Anyway,” Cara said. “Shall we see how our nachos held up in the crash?”

  Our. He’d given up on ever being part of an “our” again.

  Cara undid the bag’s knot and pulled out a Styrofoam container dripping with black bean juice and watery salsa. She set it on her lap, evidently unperturbed by the idea of nachos getting on her jeans, and opened the top.

  “Not horrible,” she said, tilting the box toward him as a car full of frat guys passed by. “You approve?”

  The box was a tornado of sour cream, grilled chicken, white cheese, and beans, like the chips had decided to have a rager. “Looks good to me,” he said.

  “Just you wait,” Cara said. She shuffled in the plastic bag and pulled out a dirty, half-used bottle of Valentina’s.

  “You stole the hot sauce?” Gael couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing.

  “It was mostly empty,” she said with a pout. “And I ran out the other night, and I keep forgetting to buy it . . . Do you mind?” She held the bottle over the nachos, midshake.

  “No,” Gael said. “Go ahead.”

  She doused everything in hot sauce, took a chip, and popped it in her mouth. “I love hot sauce,” she said.

  He nodded at her shirt. “I never would have guessed.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty obvious. Hot sauce is like my own personal rebellion. Both my parents hate everything spicy, whereas I’m all, can it be hot enough to make my tongue hurt, please?”

  Gael laughed. “My dad thinks jalapeno peppers from the jar are like, explosion-level spicy. My mom’s on my side, at least.” They’d never have that argument again over dinner, he thought briefly, then pushed the thought away.

  Cara popped another chip in her mouth.

  “You probably think it’s pathetic that hot sauce is my biggest rebellion, huh?”

  Gael’s mind instantly flashed to Anika’s recent rebellion. He shook his head vehemently. He didn’t need a girl who broke all the rules. He needed a girl who thought indulging in ultra-spicy hot sauce was breaking the rules. “I don’t think it’s pathetic at all. Half the time, people just want to be assholes, so they call it rebellion. You know what I mean?”

  She closed her mouth, swallowed, held his eyes. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  (I did, too. But just because Anika was wrong for him did not mean that this girl was right. Of course, convincing Gael of that would be another challenge altogether, that much was already clear.)

  Gael didn’t look away, and after a moment, Cara laughed nervously, broke his gaze, and grabbed another chip. “Me and rebellion just don’t mix,” she went on. “Even at school, everyone’s all, let’s go eye up frat boys with beer bellies every single weekend! And I’m like, I’m going to watch R-rated movies a
t home without having to feel awkward, and buy every kind of hot sauce ever!”

  “I know,” Gael said. He took a huge chip for himself. “I try and watch all the gory movies in my room in private. But my sister and mom pop in every five seconds, and my mom’s a women’s studies professor and she hates violence in movies, and it’s so annoying. She starts shaking her head like it’s me who’s just whacked someone, not the dude onscreen.”

  Gael’s tone was lighthearted, but he had wondered, lately: If he’d been more bold and exciting, more laid-back and carefree like Mason, would it have been enough for Anika? But that just wasn’t Gael. He didn’t want to get tanked every weekend and hook up with a ton of girls. Maybe rebelling for him was nothing more than praying his mom wouldn’t open the door too many times during a Tarantino movie. Did that mean he was doomed to be girlfriendless?

  Almost as if responding to his thoughts, Cara held up a chip and tapped it against the one in Gael’s hand. “To rebelling in little ways,” she said. “And not asshole ones.”

  They laughed. And ate some more. Gael didn’t talk about Anika, or his failed birthday dinner, or how he still didn’t know why his parents split up, or his backstabbing best friend. They talked about Cara’s current quest for the perfect pair of hiking boots, how annoying the college students on Franklin Street could be, and the bands on her helmet. For a few minutes, Gael felt kind of normal again.

  When the box was empty, Cara shoved the trash into the plastic bag and stood up. “I should probably get going. I promised my friend I’d see a movie with her tonight.”

  Gael felt an instant sinking of his heart. This impromptu dinner had been like a reprieve from the epic disaster his life had become of late. He didn’t want it to end.

  “Okay.” Gael stood up slowly. “Err, thanks for sharing your dinner with me.” He paused. “It was nice to just randomly meet someone so cool.”

  He sounded lame. He knew it.

  “Anytime,” Cara said. “It was great to meet you, too. Sorry for hitting you with my bike.”

  “It’s okay,” Gael said. His leg was practically throbbing, but he’d been so wrapped up in Cara, he’d forgotten about it until now. “Really.”

  Cara lifted up her bike. “Oh,” she said. “I didn’t even see your flower.” She pulled it out of the spokes, not a petal harmed. “I hope I didn’t make you late for a date or anything,” she said, her voice rising just a touch at the end. A quiet question mark. She handed him the flower.

  Gael didn’t want it back. It seemed meant for her. But he took it anyway. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You didn’t.”

  She smiled. “It was nice meeting you,” she said again. Cara put her helmet on, lifted a leg over her bike, and pedaled away.

  Suddenly, Gael panicked. Was that it? Was he really never going to see her again, this magical girl who had appeared out of nowhere and given him a much-deserved bit of happiness?

  “Wait,” Gael said.

  (I sent a gust of wind at the flower in his hand, but it was no use, he caught it in no time.)

  Cara stopped, and Gael hobbled up to her bike, holding out the flower.

  “What is it?” Cara asked, balancing one foot on the pavement.

  He wasn’t quite sure what to do. He hadn’t planned this far ahead.

  (I wanted so badly to turn him around, to rewind this inopportune encounter, but I couldn’t—all I could do was watch it unfold.)

  “You should take the flower,” Gael said, holding it out to her.

  “That’s so sweet.” Cara took it and wove it into the handlebars. “There. It’s lovely.” She grabbed the handlebars with both hands. “Well, I’ll be going, then.”

  Gael didn’t even know what he was doing. He just knew that he didn’t want her to go, didn’t want her to bike away and leave him to his emptiness.

  And so, with a racing heart and a stomach full of nachos, Gael did the most un-Gael thing of all. He put one hand on her shoulder and another on her cheek, turned her face to his, and planted a kiss right on her lips.

  And for a moment, his heart lifted as she returned his kiss.

  But then Cara pulled back, and he could see that she was shocked. Gael’s face fell for a second. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “No,” she said, backtracking. “I’m just surprised.”

  “Me, too,” he said. “I wasn’t planning . . . Well, it just sort of happened. I mean, I don’t even know your last name.”

  Cara seemed to struggle to find her voice. “It’s Thompson,” she stammered.

  “Mine’s Brennan. Can I see you again?” he asked. “I would really like that.”

  Cara stalled. “Again?”

  “I mean without having to be hit by your bike. Like, you know, plan something? Run into each other on purpose?”

  Cara laughed nervously, and for a second, I thought this whole disaster had been averted.

  But then Cara’s face changed. “Okay,” she said, a cautious smile on her lips. “You’re on.”

  Gael returned her smile, wholly unaware of the girl I had in store for him, the girl who would have been easy to see, if he’d only been looking in the right places. If only I’d worked faster.

  I watched, in agony, as his heart lifted just a little.

  I was in deep, deep trouble.

  And so was he.

  how gael became a romantic

  As you’ve gleaned by now, Gael was, quite frankly, in love with being in love. And unfortunately for me, his romantic tendencies couldn’t simply be undone. They’d been building for quite some time.

  Below, a few of the key moments that made him this way.

  Age seven:

  A rainy recess in second grade. Gael huddled under the metal slide, seeking shelter. A vision of a girl with auburn hair and freckles, drizzle-kissed curls. Mallory Nolastname (she moved to Ohio in third grade; Gael couldn’t remember it) took a seat next to him on the dry gravel.

  “We’re supposed to go inside,” she said.

  “Okay,” said mini-Gael. “Do you want to?” He liked Mallory. She always made a point of sitting at his table during art rotation. She had the 120-pack of crayons, the one with exotic colors like “Desert Sand” and “Macaroni and Cheese,” the ones his boring 48-pack didn’t have. She let him use whatever colors he wanted, even if he had to fill in almost the whole page, which used a lot.

  Mallory stared at him and scooted closer, so their legs were touching, his OshKosh B’gosh jeans and her fuzzy pink tights.

  “I love you, Gael.”

  She kissed him on the cheek.

  She ran off.

  Then the teacher’s aide came out to tell Gael the rest of recess would be held in the classroom, where it wasn’t raining.

  Even though Mallory Nolastname told two more boys and a girl that she loved them that afternoon, for those brief moments underneath the slide, rain tapping metal like a steel drum serenade, Gael felt more alive than he ever had before.

  Age ten:

  Valentine’s Day. His parents never celebrated it. They’d get him and Piper cards and maybe some of those silly candy hearts, but nothing for each other. His mom said that it was a total Hallmark holiday and that it only existed to empty the pockets of those in relationships. His dad said he didn’t like how it made single people feel bad.

  Gael was out of toothpaste, and so he went into his parents’ room to get some (don’t worry, it’s not what you’re thinking), and there, on the bathroom mirror, scribbled in lipstick:

  I love you a little more every year

  A secret message, just for his dad. Because no matter how much his mom decried the day, she couldn’t help doing something for the person she loved.

  Age thirteen:

  Eternal. Sunshine. Of. The. Freaking. Spotless. Mind.

  Holy hell.

  Gael had rented it and watched it with Mason because someone on Reddit said that Charlie Kaufman was pretty much the greatest screenwriter ever. Mason thought it w
as weird and boring, but Gael watched slack-jawed as a bumbling dude (who vaguely reminded him of himself) and his firecracker of a girlfriend, Clementine, first erased each other from their memories and then struggled to get each other back. The orange-haired Clementine left quite the impression on Gael, his thoughts somewhere along these lines:

  If you love someone enough, even if you try and ERASE THEM FROM YOUR MEMORY, they still won’t be gone.

  Clementine is hot.

  Awkward guys can actually get cool girls from time to time.

  Love is messy.

  I want that.

  Age seventeen:

  Maybe the most important moment, the one that solidified it all. The one that told him this: that all he’d been waiting for, all he believed in (or had believed in, before his parents split), all he’d been searching for since that first declaration under the slide—it was his, and it was there for the taking.

  An email from Anika, the day after the planetarium:

  hey—

  i thought of you this morning.

  it made me happy.

  that is all.

  xx,

  a

  missed french connection

  Gael made his way back to his house, the frat hangouts and crappy college apartments turning quickly to tall maples and manicured lawns and cozy porches. As his feet crunched across scattered leaves, he tried to make sense of what had just happened. He had gone from Birthday Dinner Fail to sharing pretty much his favorite meal with an adorable stranger. Whom he’d kissed. On the lips. Out of nowhere. It was almost too much to handle.

  Gael knew that he shouldn’t get ahead of himself, that he was fresh out of a breakup. There was a reason that they called it a rebound. Because it was clichéd. Obvious.

  He kicked at a pile of leaves and tried to push the crazy thought out of his mind.

  Clearly, he was a complete mess, he thought, quite reasonably. He didn’t need to bring someone else into this.