The Cinderella Project (A Comedy of Love, #1)

by Crowe, Stan

  The movie resumed. The retro synth vibes were awesome; the hairstyles and clothing had us in stitches. With no nostalgia to help us connect to “Gen X,” the movie was now a comedy.

  “A Time for Kris Kissy” played out like so many of the romance films and books I’d digested. Classic Cinderella story set in the mean streets of a nameless town that was probably meant to be New York City, or maybe Detroit. Horribly cliché at any rate. Kristen Kissinger (a.k.a. “Kris Kissy”) grew up under the harsh regime of her dad’s third wife, who frequently insisted that Kris was “a nuthin’ and a nobody.” Kris, of course, had her big dreams, managed to get herself into some art academy and attract the attention of a hotshot dancing star because of her “diamond in the rough” status and dancing skills. The two end up in a “forbidden love” scenario, with all the world conspiring to kill their burgeoning romance. Thankfully, hormones conquered all. Kris and her steroid-sucking dance partner (whose hair was an unkempt poodle) went on to win some big competition and share their victory in teenage bliss.

  Nothing new. Nothing inspiring.

  The only comfort I found in films like these was statistical: certain patterns were substantiated by the redundancy, increasing confidence in the validity of those trends.

  At the beginning of the show, Kris made up a little ditty about “Gotta be strong, gotta move on,” to help her get through the hard times. It came across as a half-hearted attempt by the producer to turn the piece into a musical. Luckily, the effort was aborted before the cast voiced any other unfortunate tunes, except that Kris kept singing it through the whole film. After the fifth time, the girls in the apartment were belting it out along with her around mouthfuls of caramel popcorn.

  Highly undignified. Completely hilarious.

  Moiré’s wit made the others’ jokes look like a 6th grade talent show. I was shocked to find that most of my notes had centered on her actions, even if I hadn’t named her. Moiré was just so… interesting. So fun and full of life. I felt compelled to pay attention to her and, honestly, I liked it. As the film came to an end, I found myself glancing at her once again. As Kris Kissy uttered the closing line, Moiré must have seen it coming because, right along with our inner-city heroine, Moiré blurted, “Kiss me you fool.” For whatever reason, she turned my way as she did it. Moiré blanched instantly and then looked away. I pretended I hadn’t seen it, but the look on Daisy’s face made it obvious that it had actually happened.

  The closing credits rolled and Tisha got up and turned on the lights. The girls all thanked me for the caramel corn and the good time. When Daisy learned that I was still in need of a VCR, she insisted that I drop by day or night and use hers. Moiré agreed and arrangements were made to come back each night for the rest of the week and finish the course. Despite my initial reservations, I agreed. Once I was through these films, I would be done with that segment of my research and none too soon; I was already cutting it close for defending a dissertation that still wasn’t through the secondary editing phase. With some jovial words of parting, Moiré and I were out the door.

  The rest of the week was highly productive. Each day saw a healthy number of test couples. I was within twenty tests of my goal of one-thousand tests by the time I left on Friday afternoon. Moiré had devoured over a dozen romance novels by then and her notes compared favorably with mine. She had finished editing my dissertation and I prepared it for the printer.

  I left the lab every night at 6:30 on the dot, spent time with Ella until 9:00 and then drove across town to where Moiré’s crazy friends were. The girls had taken my mom’s caramel corn recipe and turned it into a sacred ritual that was completed each night before I arrived. In fact, they had renamed it “Cairn corn” and swore some kind of feminine oath to defend the secrets of its tastiness to their graves.

  We’d watch two movies each night (they were all turned into comedies) and then I’d drive home and flop into bed for four, maybe five hours of broken sleep. Despite the late hours and growing fatigue, I was getting excellent notes. Finally, some good trends were emerging—trends that might correlate with future troubles in relationships. Even better, an e-mail showed up on Friday night informing me that the Department had approved enough funding for three grad students for another semester. My name was on the short list for consideration.

  All in all, it was a fantastic week.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “You know, Jim, I might just be willing to spend some alone time with you, one of these days.”

  “What are you talking about, Carol?”

  “We used to do that kind of thing, remember? Long, moonlit walks, holding hands, just being together.”

  “Yeah, and then you married me. I’ve already paid my dues.”

  “Okay, remind me how you still managed to persuade me to have five children with an attitude like that.”

  Men are expected to face fear without flinching, to stand strong in dangerous situations, so why did I find myself casting about for a quick escape route when I found Ella waiting on my doorstep at 1:33 a.m. that Saturday morning?

  “It’s two a.m., Nicholas,” she said quietly, her teeth chattering slightly.

  “Let’s get inside.” I took off my jacket and made to put it around her shoulders. Instead, she just stood and stepped away quickly. The pale moonlight etched her scowl into her normally beautiful face.

  “Where have you been all night?” she said, eyes narrowed. “Where have you been this entire week?”

  Great. Here it was. I decided to dodge the question and ignore her exaggeration.

  “Where? I’ve been so busy with my project and missing you, Els.”

  She looked at me as if I’d just told her I’d been golfing with Santa Claus.

  “I’m serious, Nicholas. It was bad enough that you didn’t get home until midnight, last Monday. But now? Every night this entire week? Something’s up. I know it.”

  Then she surprised me. “What’s her name?” Cold. Matter-of-fact tone. There was no way this conversation would end well.

  “‘Her’ who?” I said, sounding as confused as possible.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Nicky. You’ve been hanging with some little floozy, pretending that you’re doing research. She’s probably some hot little secretary from the college who took a chance on a mini-skirt because she knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.”

  Okay, now that was completely unfair, not to mention entirely untrue. I was so stunned that she’d accuse me of anything of the sort that I couldn’t do anything but stand there, staring.

  “I knew it. I just knew it,” she half-squealed and her eyes began to mist. “We’re not even married and I’m already being replaced! Oh, Nicky, say it’s not true!”

  Where had this come from?

  “Els? Have you been getting enough sleep, lately? You’re not sounding like yourself tonight.”

  “Oh, so suddenly it’s my problem? What happened to you, Nick?”

  No. I was going to end this one right now. “Ella? Look at me.”

  She did.

  “Hey, I’m not sure where you got the idea that I was cheating on you, but I’m looking you straight in the eyes and telling you that it’s not true. If you don’t know by now just how serious my commitment to you is, then I honestly don’t know how to prove it to you.

  “Ever since we started dating, I’ve kept my heart focused on you, despite the fact that there are ten thousand other girls on this campus that aren’t altogether hideous.”

  “You’ve been counting them? What, do you have some kind of catalogue?”

  I sighed. The comment didn’t deserve a direct response. “Look, Ella, I’ve conducted the kind of experiments on girls that many men couldn’t handle without making some kind of moral mistake and I’ve managed to do it with so much professionalism that I’ve had girls refer their friends to me, because they trusted me that much.

  “When I put that ring on your finger that was my way of saying I was bound to you. To you El
la. Not to some other girl.”

  Her face closed and she looked at the ground.

  I sighed. “When I get done with the lab, where do I go first?”

  “My place,” she murmured, still not meeting my gaze.

  “That’s right. Even though my apartment is in the opposite direction. Even though I’m dog tired and would love to collapse into bed, I come here to be with you, who I have been away from all day. All that work I do? Who do you think I’m doing it for? Don’t you think I’d rather be spending time with the woman I love than making notes and reading lame romance novels for the sixteenth time? Don’t you think I’d rather be gnoshing on homemade enchiladas fresh from your kitchen, than dropping quarters in a vending machine or going on nothing at all?

  “I go to work at six in the morning, love. And yet, I still come here every night—even for just a while—to spend time with you. You. If that’s not proof that I love you, then… then I guess I don’t know what love is.” Pincers of guilt nipped at my heart as the thought of a week at Tisha’s place came to mind.

  But that was work, I told myself, no matter how enjoyable it was.

  Fortunately, my tactic worked better than calling her out. My gut told me that her words were hiding a different message—she was missing me and wanted to know that I missed and still valued her. She was still threatening tears but this time, it wasn’t the “woe is me!” type of crying; that was comforting. Instinctively, I slipped my arms around her and pulled her close. She nestled in the way she always did and I held her while she cried.

  When she was done, she looked up at me. “Oh, Nicky, I’m so sorry. Thank you for understanding. I knew you would. I… I know you love me. You’ve been so wonderful—everything I could want in a fiancé.” Ella slumped into her mournful sigh.

  I lifted her chin gently. “I think we need a night out.”

  Her eyes widened slightly. “What did you want to do?”

  I smiled. “When was the last time we went to the lake?”

  Ella hesitated for a moment, then murmured, “I think it has been almost two months.”

  “Way too long,” I told her. “Remember how often we went out there when we first started dating?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And how we’d just sit there on the beach, making out?”

  She giggled a bit. “Yeah.”

  “And come on, what’s more romantic than a moonlit walk on the beach?”

  She purred at that and with a kiss we headed for my car.

  Twenty-two minutes later, my ancient Datsun rolled to a stop in the gravel parking lot that serviced the lake. The sand glowed heavenly white under the moon’s rays and the water had an enchanting sparkle, long after twilight. The gentle contrabass of the waves washing over the beach melded with the chorus of crickets and the lullaby of the night loons as they drifted in the reeds along the shore. I smiled to myself when I found that, as I hoped, there wasn’t another soul in sight.

  Perfect.

  I helped Ella out of the car, mostly out of courtesy, but partially because the inside door handle on the passenger side rarely worked anymore. I pulled her to me and her arms came up around my neck and her lips found mine, just as they had when she accepted my proposal. I could feel her warmth, taste the musky fragrance of her perfume. Her embrace warmed me to the core and I responded to her kiss with all the love I had for her. I remembered all the happy times we had shared since that very first date. We stood there who knows how long, but when we finally released, I knew I had done right to ask her to be my wife.

  Ella pulled away and for several, long moments, we were lost in each other’s eyes. Then she released me and turned to face the lake. I took her hand and we wordlessly made our way to the water’s edge. We let the moon pass overhead as we left two miles of footprints to be washed away by the surf.

  When we stopped I put an arm around her and she snuggled up against me. We turned our faces to the lake and I drifted in the ambience, happier than I had been for a while.

  “Thanks for letting us come here,” I said. “We’ll do this one day at a time, Els. We’ll make it work. I look forward to waking up to my wonderful wife every day. I look forward to kissing her good morning and telling her just how much I love her. We’ll be the happiest married couple the world has ever seen.” I kissed her forehead. “I’m just lucky I got you before some other guy did.”

  We rocked back and forth for a while as she just let go of her stress. When she was done, I took her hand and we silently walked back to the parking lot. The silhouette of the eastern mountains was just emerging from the night as new sunlight filtered through a low bank of clouds. The morning smelled of dew and lake air. Ella and I kept each other warm as we made our way back to my car. I helped her in and we drove silently back to her house. I walked her to her door and we parted with a kiss. As I flopped onto my bed that morning, things were once again looking right with the world.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “So, Nick? Tell me about this girl. Ella?”

  “Yeah. Wow, Mom. How am I supposed to describe something so wonderful?”

  “You, ah, thinking of… marrying her?”

  “Oh yeah! Oh, Mom, you have no idea how great this girl is. And do you want to know what’s really cool?”

  “What’s that?”

  “She was… she was sent to me.”

  “Has your father been harassing you again to try a mail-order bride?”

  “Mom.…”

  The walk on the beach paid immediate dividends. Within a week after that lovely morning things with Ella were better than ever. We picked out our china, registered for wedding gifts and arranged for our engagement pictures. I wondered why I hadn’t spent more time with her over the summer. Then I remembered that I was actually trying to get to that little thing called “graduation” so I could go out into the world and be a real boy—one who could get a job that would support a wife and kids. That was easier said than done.

  I was still bothered by the fact Ella had dropped our wedding date to right on top of my preliminary dissertation defense. She had evaded my two attempts to get her reasons, but I still felt I was due an explanation. I’d wanted to do it before I’d driven home from the lake, but we were both exhausted; not the best circumstances for a serious meeting of the minds. Now, however, was as good a time as any. I would phone Ella as soon as I was done with my lab work and we’d head to one of our favorite “discussion” spots to talk it over. I arranged to meet at around 7:00 that night and she responded with enthusiasm. It was a date.

  Before that, I still had the rest of my day to face. With the start of this new week came a resumption of observing couples that were out there being couples. Field studies were meant to mitigate bias introduced by the milieu of clinical observation; people didn’t tend to act perfectly natural when I brought them into my lab and strapped them into my handy little torture device. In other words, I was trying not to kill Schrödinger’s Cat. The problem with these exercises was that the data was entirely anecdotal—inherently subjective. I wouldn’t use these observations as hard evidence, but anecdotal evidence could, in fact, provide insight into behavioral patterns. Provided I conducted enough observations over a broad enough range of scenarios, I argued that despite personal biases, certain trends could reasonably be established, which could then be measured up against the stricter empirical data provided by the tests made in The Chair. That was the party line, anyway. After all, it worked well enough for animals in the wild. Why not people in the wild? I wouldn’t admit that I needed the hope that came from watching others be happy in love.

  When I showed up at the lab to get Moiré, I found her once again poring over a hardcopy of my dissertation, scribbling in red ink. She didn’t see me come in and I stood quietly behind her, taking my own notes. Moiré was the picture of professionalism. I was unexpectedly flattered that she was paying so much attention to the written representation of such a significant part of my life. She was only doing what I had asked, but to
see her doing it with such intensity and without knowing I was there, earned my respect.

  I like self-motivating people, I told myself. I’ll have to write her a shining recommendation when she’s done here.

  I hadn’t realized I was staring until one of the other doctoral students walked by me with a “Sup, Nick?” and a friendly smile. Moiré turned immediately and noticed me before I could look away. I felt my face flush.

  “Hey, Brad,” I said half-heartedly as he walked out of the lab with a wave.

  “Ah, Doctor Cairn,” Moiré said, “I almost wondered when you’d get here, but then I realized that it wasn’t quite three-thirty, so I stopped worrying.”

  I attempted a smile, but couldn’t hold her gaze. Instead, I made a point of looking intensely at The Chair and then fiddling with the sensor tabs, knowing there was nothing at all wrong with them.

  “Hmm,” I muttered, sensing her coming up beside me. “Everything looks okay here.”

  “I know,” she said simply. “I check it every day when I get in, if you haven’t already arrived.” Again, impressive. I’d never had such a thoughtful, thorough, proactive research assistant. I thanked her for it and steeled myself against the way she smiled at my praise.

  “So, it’s observation day.”

  She nodded. “Where do we begin?”

  “There’s Rotary Club Park just up the road. You can’t go there without stepping on some pair of lovebirds doing… whatever.”

  She nodded again. “Sounds good. Let’s go,” she said and she went to get her backpack.

  I froze for an instant and then relaxed as I realized she was only saying that we ought to be on our way to observe couples—not to be one of them. I forced myself back into professional mode, and when she returned with her stuff we departed.