Oxygenated.
Caffeinated.
But in a good way.
You’ve always laughed at her jokes. She’s always laughed at yours. You get each other’s sense of humor.
If you stop laughing at Sunny’s jokes now, it’s going to be bizarre.
Early P.M.
Break room. Bookstore.
Did Sunny just ask you on a date? Is “Hey, wanna catch the extremely bad action flick at the ’plex when we’re out of here?” a date invitation?
Evidence:
For:
You suggest calling up the rest of the gang, to maximize the sounds of disgust, throwing popcorn-at-the-screen potential.
Sunny says, “Nah, let’s just go together.”
You say, “Sure.”
Then you bolt in here and grab the old journal like a life raft.
Against:
It’s Sunny. And you. Friends.
This is all Brendan’s fault.
Yeah. Brendan. You’ll blame him.
Like that’s going to fix things now.
Besides, it’s not Brendan’s fault.
Stop freaking, Ducky. Just act like yourself.
This is not a situation, except in your own DUCK BRAIN.
6:10 p.m.
Mr. W is having an in-depth discussion with a new potential full-timer.
She looks okay.
With school starting soon, he’s going to need someone full-time.
But that’s not what is important here. You are avoiding the subject.
You are propped near the bookstore entrance, scribbling.
While Sunny is CHANGING.
As in, slipping into the bathroom to change clothes from her work clothes to something else for going to the movies.
You think about this way too much. Like, did she bring clothes from home just for this NOT DATE?
Is she getting dressed up?
Did she plan the whole thing?
Should you—what?
BREATH MINTS.
Gotta go.
Later. Eons later. Mind-altering, Time-traveling, Significant Amounts of Time Later.
Really only 11:20 on an ordinary Wednesday night.
You wish.
Okay. Back to pre “it’s not a date” panic.
You buy two packs of breath mints at the pharmacy and eat about six on the way back to the bookstore.
Your whole brain smells like peppermint.
Fortunately, Sunny doesn’t notice when she emerges from the break room.
She looks good. The flitty top thing especially. Definitely dressier than bookstore mode.
“Nice look,” you say.
Sunny smiles and her eyes crinkle and you blurt out, “Want to get something to eat?”
“Great idea,” she says, and her eyes crinkle even more.
You practically run from the bookstore. You do not remember Sunny saying good-bye to her father and telling him you’ll bring her home later (although you know she must have).
You do not remember how you ended up in Galaxy Deluxe.
But there you are in the brand-new retro joint, staring at the menu while Sunny admires the bowling-trophy decor.
You do not remember what you ate.
You do remember part of the movie. It’s so bad that you and Sunny are collapsing against each other laughing.
You are whispering the action hero’s lines before he says them.
The girl—the damsel in distress—stands around looking slightly malnourished and screaming a lot.
Just like in the John Wayne movies of ancient history, except those girls looked better fed.
Don’t the people who make movies get it?
Clearly not. And you yourself did just pay money to see this old-fashioned, high-tech piece of junk.
And then, Sunny takes your hand while she is in a mid-laughing fit.
She’s grabbed your hand before.
But this feels different.
Plus, she doesn’t let go.
That’s the last thing about the movie you remember.
You regain consciousness as your car pulls up outside Sunny’s house.
She is shaking her head. “Too much, Ducky,” she says.
Too much what? What have you been talking about?
You must have been acting normal because she is not giving you Planet Ducky looks.
“It’s been fun,” you say, to conceal the fact that you are recovering from some kind of amnesia attack.
You have your hand back. Soon, surely, your mind will follow.
Sunny puts her hand on the door. In the dark, you see the flash of her teeth as she smiles at you.
Then, without warning, she leans forward and…
KISSES you
On the mouth.
And it’s not a just-friends kiss either.
You freeze. Your lips freeze.
The night freezes.
You do not, however, lose consciousness as you did in the movie.
On the contrary, you are much TOO CONSCIOUS.
Sunny does not appear to have noticed the lip chill or the parallel king over of the local universe.
She pulls back, smiles again, and says softly, “Night, Ducky.”
She slides out of the car and is gone.
Sunny kissed you, Ducky. On the mouth. With, well, feeling.
Brendan was right.
You were wrong.
You sit in the car until you realize that Sunny might think you are sitting there thinking about the kiss.
Which you are, but not in that way.
You are thinking in a panicked, where’s-the-rabbit-hole kind of way.
You start the car and drive, careful not to burn rubber or show any other signs of fear or derangement.
You feel… MISERABLE.
Is this the end of a beautiful friendship?
Then you think, what is wrong with you?
You just got kissed.
What is the problem here?
Midnight
When a kiss is not just a kiss
You don’t care if you do have work tomorrow. You realize that you need to stay up and worry about this.
Sunny kissed you. You did not kiss her back. Your heart raced, but not with passion. It was another P word.
Panic.
It felt…not right. As if it were happening to someone else. Like an experiment that failed.
What does that mean?
Of all the girls in all the world, Sunny would be the one you’d choose. But you’re not at all happy she chose you.
You don’t want to be chosen. Not like that. Not by Sunny.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???
Sunny is perfect for you. You are perfect for her.
Except for that kiss thing. That lack of he-she chemistry.
It’s like you need a new chemistry set….
Enough with the similes. Or maybe I mean metaphors.
Whatever.
I am not going to think about this anymore.
I’ll deal with it tomorrow.
And hey, maybe you were wrong. You read way too much into it. It was just a
Kiss.
Aug. 26
Post work.
Post ruining Sunny’s life, possibly.
Okay, maybe you didn’t ruin her life, but when she bounded into work smiling and saying, “Ducky!” like she hadn’t seen you forever and looked like she’d like to throw her arms around you if she could, you didn’t have to look the way you did.
What way?
With a frozen face. Like a duck in headlights.
Sunny’s megawatt smile dims.
You say, “Uh, hi, Sunny.”
She’s still smiling on her way to the break room, but it’s more like one of those customer-friendly models.
You fling yourself at an unsuspecting customer, who is a little taken aback at the detail with which you explain the frequent customer discount policy.
She finally cuts you off with a “Just looking, thanks.”
“You made the coffee switch?” you begin to babble. “Cool. I think I’ll get me some. Has your father noticed? Well, I guess not if you just did it, huh?”
“Ducky,” she says.
You stop babbling.
She says, “Hey, Ducky. Relax. It was just a kiss. You were in the right place at the right time, that’s all.”
“Yeah?” you say, trying to keep your tone neutral.
You cannot fool Sunny.
She knows you.
But you don’t know her at all. What does the look she is giving you now mean?
“Hey, nothing personal, okay?” she says.
She pats your arm and winks at you.
You feel scalded.
Sunny says, “I did sneak in some new coffee. Just made it. I’ll go get you a cup.”
You watch Sunny walk away and you hope she is still your friend.
You take the coffee when she returns. You say, “You know, Sunny, you are one of the most important people in my life.”
Sunny laughs and it sort of scares you. But she says, “Silly boy, I better be. Now stop brooding. Or I’m not going to ask you out to play with me again.”
How could she be so… sophisticated?
“I don’t want to mess us up,” you blunder on.
“Keep talking like that, you will,” she shoots back. Light. Fast. A smile with glitter on it.
You get the hint. Sunny is smiling but that is not a happy smile.
It’s a smile that says: Shut up, Ducky. You’ve hurt my feelings.
So you shut up.
And you stay that way the rest of the day.
You do not laugh, together or separately. Not once.
Not even when Mr. W stares down at his mug of coffee and goes, “Good coffee. I guess I ought to wash out my cup more often.”
8:15 p.m.
Later Thursday
You cannot call the people you would normally call. Dawn, Maggie, and Amalia are all too close to Sunny.
You will not call Jay.
Telling Jay would be like telling the world. Besides, he would laugh at you.
He might also suspect that this is your first real kiss.
And if he asks you, you will not be able to lie.
Furthermore, he will start calling you all those stupid nicknames he’s made out of Ducky. Duckman, Duckorama, Duckster.
You do not need that.
And yet… And yet…
Somewhat later
SAVED BY THE TED.
Just as you are reaching for the phone you hear: the back door, then the refrigerator door, then a cabinet door.
Ted is home.
You decide you will talk to Ted.
You find him in the kitchen, shoving cereal into his mouth like there’s a shortage.
“Hey, Ted,” you say.
“Ucky,” he mumbles around the mouthful of cereal.
“Can I talk to you?”
He swallows the cereal. “I’ll clean the kitchen. I know it’s my turn. I will.”
Is that how Ted sees you? The person who nags about housecleaning?
“Okay,” you say. “Listen, could I talk to you about something else?”
So he listens to you while you listen to him slurp up the rest of the cereal as you tell him the whole pathetic story. Except that you don’t mention the kiss was Numero Uno.
He looks at you when you finish and says, “You don’t like her?”
“Yes I like her,” you say. “But not like that. I mean, you know, kissing her didn’t do it for me. It was like, well, I don’t know….”
“Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t,” says Ted, big man on campus.
“Yeah, well, what do you do when it doesn’t?”
Ted shrugs. He says, “Ducky. She’ll get over it. You’ll get over it. And hey. Maybe you just need more practice together.”
He makes a kissy noise.
Cro Mag.
You leave. “Don’t forget to clean the kitchen” is your lame parting shot.
“You’re welcome,” he shouts after you.
Ted is useless. Useless. Why expect him to be understanding and sensitive when he can be an obnoxious big brother?
Do they have schools for this? How do people learn to be so completely obnoxious? Are they born this way?
Jay wasn’t. Back when he was Jason, before he started hanging with the Cro Mags, he was normal. Okay.
Ted, you think you remember, had moments when he wasn’t a snotty older brother, when you were younger. He’d take you along sometimes and not complain too much.
He was protective of you when the other kids circled like sharks.
But now he’s the brother from the planet Lug.
10:01
So you’ve called Brendan.
You hope it’s not too weird, but you are desperate.
He is, after all, the one who brought this up in the first place. You have decided he is not to blame, but you are still including him in this whole mess.
Amazingly, Brendan is at home. You thought he had a date with Amalia.
“What happened to your date?” you blurt out.
Tactful, Ducky.
She canceled, he tells you. “It’s Maggie. She showed up at Amalia’s and she was, according to Amalia, pretty upset.”
You don’t ask if it is about Maggie’s mom.
It is always about Maggie’s mom.
“Poor Maggie,” you say.
“Yeah.” He changes the subject. “What’s up?”
“Advice,” you say. “about Sunny.”
“Yeah?” he sounds expectant.
“We had a date,” you begin.
“What did I tell you! She likes you.”
“Wait,” you say. You tell him the whole story, more or less.
The less being that you don’t get too specific about the kiss. As in she seemed to enjoy it, but you did not.
You conclude by saying, “so maybe you were right, Brendan. Maybe Sunny does sort of like me.”
“But?” he says. “I hear doubts.”
“I like Sunny too,” you say. “I love Sunny. But not like that.”
Not in THAT WAY.
Split screen, Brendan flipping through the TV channels while he talks, you clutching the phone, bug-eyed with panic.
B: whoa.
D: Keanu Reeves says that in every movie, did you know that?
B: Really. Well.
[Silence]
B: Okay. Well. This could be a problem. I don’t mind telling you, just between us, that Amalia mentioned what a great couple she thought you and Sunny would make.
D: She did? Great.
B: Yeah.
D: What am I going to do?
B: I don’t know. What do you want to do?
D: I don’t know. I guess I just want things to be the way they were.
B: That is not going to be easy. It may not be possible.
D: But I… Sunny… We…
B: You’ve gotta do something fast, you know. The longer you let it go, the worse it’s going to get. It’s too bad.
D: What is?
B: That you and Sunny are such good friends. If it was just, you know, a normal date that didn’t work, you could smile at each other in the halls and let it go.
D: Great. Just great.
B: Unless you’re mistaken?
D: No.
B: Well then, you can’t be attracted to her if you’re not. You shouldn’t try to talk yourself into it. That’s not fair to her or you. You’ll just end up hurting her worse if you try to fake it. So go with the truth. That’s how to do it.
D: It’s brutal.
B: Not so bad. The alternative is worse.
D: [gulp] Okay. Right. Thanks.
B: Anytime.
Cut to Ducky, sprawled on the floor of his room, wishing he were somebody else. A Cro Mag, for example. A be
ing without feelings. Or at least, the appearance of feelings.
What if I’m just a coward? What if I have—commitment issues?
What if I’m afraid to get involved?
Sunny would be the perfect girlfriend. We’d make a great couple. We like the same things. We share the same fashion sense. We’re so close anyway.
Why not get closer?
Why not?
Why not?
Why don’t I feel it?
Aug. 27
Friday
Lunch break at work
Sunny called in sick. This is a bad sign.
Mr. W says she’s fine when you ask.
You have a paranoid moment wondering whether he’s thinking, he hurt my little girl, the creep.
But you know Sunny hasn’t said anything to him.
“I hope she feels better,” you say.
You have hurt her. You are a creep. An insensitive Cro Mag.
You reshelve books. You brood.
Wait a minute.
You didn’t kiss Sunny.
She kissed you.
You didn’t even kiss back. She just didn’t notice.
There’s Dawn.
Gotta go.
Afternoon Break. On a Bench, Outside
DAWN ACTUALLY FOUND A couple of books for a customer and ended up helping you shelve for awhile.
She kept the conversation light.
She did not talk about Sunny.
You did not talk about Sunny.
This lack of the mention of Sunny’s name leads you to believe that Sunny has talked about you to Dawn.
But you can’t ask her, since she is more Sunny’s friend than yours.
Terrific. Are you now going to have to divide your friends into “Sunny’s” and “Ducky’s”?
Like you have friends to spare.
What are you going to do?
6:20 p.m.
Bench-riding outside the bookstore. Again.
Don’t feel like going home.
Amalia just left.
She said, “Ducky, I need to talk to you.”
John Wayne never ran from a fight, but you’re pretty sure those words would have made him think twice.
So she can talk to you, you just can’t talk to her. This is mean and petty and low and it’s how you feel. The basic facts.
But you are Ducky the understanding, friend to all, boyfriend to none.
You nod. You say okay. You’re just finishing for the day.
You go to the local bean ’n’ brew, get cappuccinos, and stake out the bench.
You say, “So, what’s up?”
To your ENORMOUS, cowardly, what-a-rotten-friend-you-are relief, Amalia says, “it’s Maggie.”
Diary Three Page 28