by Hilary Dartt
If it was even possible, her heart started to pound harder. Black swirls danced before her eyes. They often joked about how Mark misused American expressions. Was this one of those times? Or did he really want to break up?
“Move on?” she choked.
“Yes. Move on. Go our different ways. Stop seeing each other.”
Wow. He was definitely using those expressions correctly. This was so far from what she’d expected. Relief made a brief appearance, but indignation quickly yanked it offstage to step into the spotlight.
“So… let me get this straight. You let me come over, have sex with you, lay in bed naked with you … and you planned all along to break it off with me?”
“Don’t lift your voice.”
She leapt off the bed and stalked over to the blue chair. The shiny hardwood floor felt cold on the soles of her feet.
“Have you been planning this?” She finally untangled her panties and put them on, wobbling madly from one foot to the other.
“No. Delaney. It’s just that I–”
“You what? You wanted to knock boots one more time before you broke it off?” She found her shirt under the bed.
“I didn’t plan this, Delaney.”
“You just told me I was delicious.” She pulled her shirt roughly over her bare breasts.
“You are delicious,” he insisted. “So much so.”
“But you want to stop seeing me.”
Mark flopped onto his back, rubbed his hands over his face. Delaney nearly swooned as she took in the soft hair on his chest, his chiseled abs, his hipbones. The way the silky cream-colored sheets made his dark skin look so tan and smooth. She remembered the first time she saw him, last summer when he came into Rowdy’s after the first festival of the year on the courthouse square. He stood at at the bar, staring at a photo of horses drinking from a river, looking very much like he belonged in an advertisement for a couples’ resort. Or a phone sex hotline. At the same moment Delaney realized she was staring, he looked up and caught her. He grinned, walked over to her, and said, “I was just wishing for a beautiful woman to explain to me this art.”
Now, even though they were on the verge of being over, Delaney was tempted to have sex with him just one more time. Feel his broad, warm hands on her skin, his mouth on her neck…
“Delaney, do you want to hear my question? I wanted to ask you something. Remember?”
Reluctantly, she pulled herself out of the daydream. Realizing she’d frozen in place, one leg in her jeans and one leg still bare and planted on the floor, she gave herself a little shake and continued getting dressed. What was wrong with her, daydreaming about sex with someone who was trying to break up with her? What was wrong with him, trying to break up with her while she was still naked in his bed?
“You just asked me a question.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“Fine. Fine, ask me your question. Ask me the question, Mark.”
“Are you ready to settle down?”
She stopped flouncing, pulled up her pants. He’d caught her off guard.
“What kind of question is that?”
Of course she wasn’t. Settling down ultimately meant heartbreak, she knew that. Which is why she wasn’t interested in settling down.
Shit. If I could guarantee myself that I’d never get my heart broken, I’d settle down right now. But I can’t.
“Delaney. When we first started dating, it was you who wanted to keep things light. You didn’t want to get serious. You’ve said that over and over since we’ve been together. I get it, I do. But I’m almost forty, Delaney. It’s time for me to find someone to marry. Someone who will have my children. Someone as delicious as you who also wants to be with me. Forever.”
He was right, of course. She was delicious. And she wasn’t ready to settle down.
“Besides,” he continued. “I saw your face when I first said I wanted to ask you a question. You should have seen it.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “You were totally freaking.”
She buttoned her jeans and sat on the edge of the bed. When she’d arrived at Mark’s the night before, she’d thought the storm clouds outside had made the room, with its cheerful fireplace, cozy. But that fire had died hours ago and now, it just felt gloomy.
“Why today, Mark? Why did you text me, seduce me, as always, let me stay over, and then break up with me?”
“I enjoy you, Delaney. I enjoy our time together, our conversation, our delicious–what did you call it–knocking shoes. I enjoy all of it very much. But last night and this morning, lying here with you, I started thinking, I could do this forever. Every night. Every day. With you. But you can’t do it with me. You’re not ready. It’s time for me to move on. I don’t want to change you. But I know you can’t be with me. And so, I must let you free.”
Twelve minutes had passed since that conversation. Delaney had put on her shoes and coat, kissed Mark good-bye and was now walking down the sidewalk.
She exhaled, relieved.
It wasn’t that she wouldn’t miss Mark. His glittering honey-colored eyes, his lean muscular body, his quick, witty sense of humor. When she thought of how he’d told her not to lift her voice this morning, she burst into tears, a full-on ugly cry, right there on the sidewalk. Out of all the guys she had dated recently, Mark had been her favorite. If some weird game show or end-of-the-world disaster scenario forced her to choose a man to be with exclusively, it would be him.
But he was right, she thought as she watched her breath turn to steam. She wasn’t ready to settle down, not really.
This is the whole reason you designed your fail-proof dating system–so you’d always have a backup. Look at it this way: You can now begin the hunt for another sex machine. Won’t that be fun?
The thought provided enough comfort that she was able to tamp down the sobs and continue walking, although a stray tear or two escaped every couple of minutes.
It’s not like you’ll be alone. Suck it up, Collins. You’ve always sworn crying over a guy was lame. Unless it was because he was so good in bed he made you weep.
She shook her head. She still had two more options. It was not quite noon, which meant it was early enough to salvage the day.
***
Delaney found Zachary while she was trawling a post-poetry-reading crowd for a philosophical, sensitive man to add to her dating roster. This morning, he answered on the first ring.
“Del! How are you?”
Yikes. I never noticed how high-pitched his voice is. Nothing like Mark’s.
“I’m great! Are you hungry? I was just calling to see if you wanted to grab some lunch.”
“Uh…yeah. Okay. Sure, let’s grab some lunch. I need some fuel.”
Had she imagined it, or did a slight hesitation precede his “yeah”? She was probably still sensitive from Mark’s breakup, that was all. Zachary adored her.
“I’ll pick you up,” she said.
During the five-minute, three-block stroll from Mark’s apartment to Zachary’s tiny cottage, Delaney smoothed her short blond hair into a ponytail, put on lip gloss and powder, and prayed that her cheeks weren’t still aglow from sex with Mark. Even if they were, she could attribute it to the cold. Despite it being almost noon, icicles still hung from the eaves of the little downtown shops. People walked the sidewalks bundled up in puffy jackets, scarves and hats, their rosy noses just peeking out. She remembered she wasn’t wearing a bra, and hoped Zachary wouldn’t notice. She poked herself in the side of the nose when she put on her mascara, and spent the rest of the walk licking her finger, rubbing her nose and hoping she’d gotten it all off.
It wasn’t that she’d told Zachary or Mark (or Xander, either) that they were exclusive. But it wasn’t like they knew about each other. It had worked this way for months now. She always had options, always had something going … all her needs were met. And until this morning, she’d thought all theirs were, too. Why tinker with a good thing?
Zachary opened his
front door. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
You’re just being paranoid. He always smiles like that.
“Hey,” he said, reaching out and squeezing her shoulder.
“Hey,” she responded. “You know, if you’re too busy for lunch, we can just skip it. I can grab something from The Sand Witch.”
“Nah, it’s okay. I’ve got to eat, anyway, right?”
As Delaney attempted to quell the sense of foreboding growing in her stomach, Zachary shut and locked the front door, and they walked companionably toward the downtown square, side-by-side but not touching.
Instead of focusing on Zachary’s cool reception, Delaney thought about the town of Juniper as they walked. The quaint little city had always been home. Nestled into northern Arizona’s pine-covered mountains, it was cozy and absolutely imperfect for a single woman in her thirties.
Its turn-of-the-century downtown plaza featured perfectly manicured lawns, a bubbling fountain, and huge shade trees bordering all four sides. Boutiques, galleries, and restaurants lined the square, bringing tourists and locals into town year-round. Delaney loved everything about it. She loved that she could walk from her house to the square in less than ten minutes. She loved that she could shop for perfect, unique gifts, interesting books, and fun outfits without driving across town. She loved that she almost always saw a familiar face and that the people in her favorite shops knew her by name.
She inhaled the clean scent of the snow, smiling to herself.
“It snowed?” Zachary asked.
“Obviously,” she said. It was almost noon, and he was so wrapped up in whatever he needed fuel for, he hadn’t even noticed?
“What are you working on?” she asked, softening her tone.
“Oh, it’s a new paper about John Dewey.”
“Who’s that?”
“He was a philosopher. One of the developers of pragmatism. Where should we go?”
“What will best nourish your huge brain?”
He chuckled.
“The Sand Witch sounds fine.”
Delaney later thought she should have noticed Zach’s strange behavior. He barely spoke during their walk to the deli, ordered a plain turkey on rye rather than his usual Italian sub, and ate only half of it while Delaney wolfed down her veggie sandwich. For once, they ate in relative silence.
“So, no new opinion on gun control?” Delaney said, wiping the avocado off her fingers with the thin brown deli napkins.
“Not today,” Zach answered.
“What about taxes?”
He didn’t answer.
“You look tired, Zachary. I think you’re working too hard.”
“It’s not that. Delaney–”
She held up a finger.
“You don’t have to explain. You’re allowed to have a biorhythm. This is just a low-energy day, right? I’ll walk you home, drop you off and leave you to your herbal tea and philosophy paper. I just expected a zinger with you today after I saw yesterday’s story on the news about the tax increases. But it’s totally fine.”
Zach’s thin chest rose and then fell. His light blue eyes, practically invisible through the layer of grease on his glasses, didn’t meet hers.
“Delaney,” he started again.
Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. You have to be kidding me.
Blake, the brawny owner of the deli, had stopped moving around in the kitchen. He stood behind the counter, drying blue plastic cups. He took off his chef’s hat with a meaty hand and used the dishtowel to wipe the sweat off his head. Delaney wondered first if he’d keep using that towel to dry cups, and then she wondered if he was eavesdropping. She closed her eyes.
“Delaney,” Zach said again, “you know I really enjoy our conversations, right? I really enjoy our time together. But the thing is, I need to close this chapter of my life. I’m going for my tenure at the college, and I need to focus on my work. It’s very important.”
“And I’m not important?” she whisper-yelled, opening her eyes to glare at him.
Blake resumed his cup-drying. Sure enough, he continued using the towel he’d used to wipe his head. Delaney made a mental note to order bottled drinks from now on.
“Of course you are, Del. But that’s exactly why you deserve someone who can devote more time and energy to you. More spirit.”
“Of course you’d say something like that,” she said.
Hating herself for the bitterness in her voice, she stood up, almost knocking over the tiny table, covered in its green and white checkered cloth. She threw her greasy, balled-up napkin onto her greasy paper plate.
“Forget my offer to walk you home,” she said, infusing her voice with as much coldness as she could. She pulled her coat off the back of the chair, which tipped over. She scrambled to pick it up.
Just as she shoved through the glass door, making the bells jingle wildly, Zachary caught up with her.
“You’re a free spirit, Del. You deserve to fly.”
The door shut behind them.
“Oh, give me a break,” she said, whirling around to face him. “Just give me a break. What is it, really? Why don’t you want to be with me?”
Zachary looked down. Either he was looking at his feet, or he’d discovered a new bug species, Delaney wasn’t sure. She just knew he wasn’t looking at her.
“Del, when we first met, you were a breath of fresh air.”
“King of clichés today,” she muttered, struggling to get her coat on, annoyed that Zachary wasn’t helping her. He’d never been big on manners, though. That was one of the things she’d so loved about Mark. Her eyes burned with the threat of tears.
“You were so fun, so full of life. Your eyes! They’re so green. They just sparkle with mirth. I loved arguing with you, debating with you, just being around your … energy.”
Sparkle with mirth? How lame is that? “But?”
“But you’re exhausting. I can’t keep up with you. I was telling the truth, before, when I said I need to focus on my work. I really do. If you weren’t so … argumentative, so … challenging, I could do both. But you drain me.”
Ouch.
For the briefest of moments, Delaney felt like crying—again. Zachary was dumping her. Dumping her! And he was like a tiny flea on the ass of an elephant. Which made her even smaller. This was bad. And very depressing.
Am I really draining?
She pushed the thought out of her mind before it could take any kind of shape, and replaced it with anger.
“Well, as long as we’re being honest, Zachary,” she said, “you bore me to tears. You’re ridiculous, self-righteous and self-centered. You want to save the world, but you don’t actually do anything to help anyone. You sit home and write papers all day! About pragmatism! Who actually reads them? And what the hell is pragmatism, anyway? I find you equally exhausting. And the sex wasn’t even that good!”
She spun around and almost ran into a bundled-up couple walking arm-in-arm down the sidewalk. As soon as they’d passed, she whirled back around to look at Zachary. He stood in the same spot, his hands in his pockets, his thrift store clothes hanging loosely on his thin frame, his eyes downcast and the lines around his mouth etched deeply into a frown.
“Ridiculous!” she called again.
He didn’t respond. The fight left her.
CHAPTER THREE
She should have seen it coming. But what would she have done? Avoided Xander completely? Beaten him to the punch? She wouldn’t have done either, she knew. Especially because she hadn’t yet replenished her back-ups after Mark and Zachary ended things. And so it probably all would have played out the same way. In the end, she would still have ended up alone and lonely, the dating system she’d designed as fail-proof having failed. Completely.
After storming away from The Zachary Scene, she called Xander to see if he wanted to go rock climbing or kayaking. No answer. That should have been her first clue, since he almost always picked up, but she persisted.
Finally, after sh
e worked out, called Xander, showered, called Xander and ate a container of leftover cashew chicken from Red Lantern, she tried him again.
He finally answered.
“Hey,” Delaney said. “You sound tired.”
“What’s up?”
“Oh. Okay,” Delaney said, suddenly feeling awkward. She got off the couch and went to the kitchen to finish cleaning up the cartons from her lunch. “Well, I was calling to see if you wanted to go climbing out at the dells today, maybe after I drop Summer’s kids off?”
“I can’t today.”
“Oh. Okay. Big plans on your day off?”
“We need to talk.”
Dread, which had appeared at the murky bottom of her consciousness at the start of this phone call, came clawing its way to the surface. Delaney stopped cleaning and plopped down on the ottoman.
Maybe I should just hang up now. Pretend I lost the connection.
“Seriously?”
“Uh. Yeah, Delaney. Seriously. We need to talk.”
She closed her eyes. Swallowed. Put a hand over her mouth to stifle a groan.
“Okay. Lay it on me.”
She flopped onto her back so her head hung off one end of the ottoman and her legs off the other.
“When we’re together, we have so much fun. You know? I love the climbing, the kayaking, the camping. Hell, I love the grocery shopping. Everything with you is an adventure.”
That doesn’t sound so bad.
“So …” she said.
“So,” he repeated. “Everything is an adventure. Except the sex. I know you’re with me, here. We like, barely ever have sex.”
It was true. She just wasn’t that attracted to him. Tall, thin, bordering on gangly, Xander probably weighed a buck fifty soaking wet and carrying a dumbbell or two. A large nose, small jaw, and grimy fingernails made him look like a caricature of himself.
“I mean,” he continued, “can you remember the last time we did it?”
She thought back. “Oh! Yeah, I can. It was that time we went to the hot springs and you attacked me under that waterfall down the path.”
“Do you remember when we went there? It was the weekend after Labor Day. We waited the extra weekend so we wouldn’t have to deal with the crowds.”