Dating Dilemma

by Brownell, Rachael

  Sneaking in a few questions of my own, I learn more about his sister Hope and her daughters. His parents seem like great people from what he tells me. It’s not until I ask about his job that he tenses up.

  “It’s just a job. I’m going to buy my partner out soon.”

  “That’s great,” I say, with more enthusiasm than necessary. The wine is obviously affecting me already. I need to slow down.

  Nodding, Kyle mumbles as he takes a sip of his wine. Realizing that the subject is having a negative effect on his mood, I quickly change it. There’s so much more I want to know. His past relationships, why he’s single, and why his sister is pushing him so hard are on the top of my list.

  Not tonight, though. Tonight is about good wine, happy conversations, and water fountains. Still, I itch to ask him more questions than I should.

  8

  Kyle

  "She's beautiful," I tell Hope, doing the best I can to describe Lauren without sounding creepy or stalkerish.

  Hope called three times while I was out with her tonight. I was smart enough to keep my phone on silent, knowing she would interrupt if I didn't, unlike Lauren. Her friend Abby called just as often.

  "That's all you can say. You know a ton of beautiful women, Kyle. If you're going out with her again Friday night, there has to be something special about her. Tell me!"

  There was a lot special about her. She was real. She didn't sugar coat things. She's a great listener. And that laugh, the one that made her snort, was adorable.

  "Look, Hope. I told you, I'm doing this for you, but I'm still not looking to start a relationship with anyone. Not right now, maybe not anytime soon. Lauren is really nice, and she's new to town. I'm going to show her around a little, that's all. It would be nice to have a friend right now, for both of us."

  Lies. All lies. She’s not going to buy them either. She knows me too well. She knew the second I fell for Kristen, happily pointing it out in front of our friends and family. When I announced we were getting married, she gave me her signature “I told you so” look. The one that irritates me to no end.

  "You have friends," she grumbles, her irritation at my lack of an explanation obvious.

  "You don't count. You know I lost most of my friends when I stopped returning phone calls after the wedding. You're the only one who didn't abandon me and move on with your life. I appreciate it, more than you know, even when you annoy the hell out of me. But, you don't count. You're family. You had to stick by my side."

  "I didn't have to," she says defensively, "but I love you, and you needed me. You still do. Admit it. You wouldn't have met Lauren if I hadn't convinced you to sign up for that dating website."

  "Force. You forced me to sign up."

  "Convinced, forced, whatever,” Hope laughs. I can picture her right now, dismissing me with the wave of her hand even though I can’t see her.

  "Look, I'm pulling in my driveway right now. I'm gonna let you go. Kiss the girls for me."

  "Fine, but I want more details after Friday."

  "Since I'm assuming you'll show up on Saturday morning, I won't have an option if I ever want you to leave."

  "You bet your pretty ass," she says, hanging up without saying goodbye.

  I feel awful. I scared the crap out of her in the parking lot and now the hostess is all over me in front of her. I know she's not my girlfriend, but if she was, this would be embarrassing for her. When she points out the obvious, I laugh on the inside, but I'm too angry with the hostess to let it out.

  Dinner is fantastic. She tells me more about herself, where she grew up in California, and how much she loved going to Stanford. She's smart and witty. Her parents sound great, but there's an edge to her tone when she talks about them, making me think she feels differently.

  When it comes to talking about me, I keep it simple, focusing on Hope and the girls. It's easy for me to talk about Monica and Erin. They're the only two people I can honestly say I love unconditionally, but they make it easy. They’ve always loved me, even when I was locked inside my house, smelling of booze.

  I settle the bill against Lauren's wishes. I let her pay for her own meal Wednesday because she didn't give me an option. Not tonight, though. I asked her out, and my mother would be furious with me if she found out I let her pay. I was raised better than that. If you take a girl out, no matter your relationship with her, you always pay the bill. It's called being a gentleman. If you can't afford it, you don't ask her out.

  Making sure to walk the long route to the park, I'm able to show her some of the metal art sculptures that decorate the landscape downtown. The local art institute had a competition about five years ago when Brighton renovated most of the downtown area. The top ten sculptures stayed after the renovation.

  "They're unique," I say, as we're approaching the last one.

  "They're gorgeous. I love them. I suck at art, but I have no problem appreciating it. I could never create anything like this," she says, motioning to the ten-foot-high piece of twisted red and blue metal in front of us.

  "I entered the competition but didn't place. My piece was too small and not nearly as creative as these."

  Why did I just tell her that? I wasn’t planning on it. That’s something I keep to myself normally. Around her, it’s as if I have no filter.

  "You did? Do you have any pictures? I want to see," she begs, her voice going up an octave or two.

  Laughing, I pull my phone from my pocket and scroll through my pictures. I find a good one and pull it up for her. Just as I'm about to show her, a new text from Hope flashes across the center of the screen. Lauren places her hand over mine and turns the screen so she can see before I can swipe the text away.

  "Your sister is nosy, isn't she?"

  "That's putting it mildly," I reply, clearing the text without reading it.

  "Oh!" she exclaims as the full picture comes into view. "That's gorgeous. Who was your inspiration?"

  Twisted yellow and gray metal form the shell of a woman wearing a long dress. Her body is bent at an awkward angle. I couldn't figure out how to make her stand casually. Her dress is longer on one side than the other, emphasizing the bend in the metal. If only it was shorter on the other side, the side she's leaning away from. It's far from perfect, but at the time, it was perfect in my eyes. That's why I spent an entire summer learning how to bend metal in my spare time. So I could enter the contest.

  She was perfect in my eyes, so that made the sculpture perfect. I couldn't see past the exterior. I was blinded by the beauty.

  "My ex. Technically, it was before we started dating. I was chasing her, and when she saw the sculpture I made, she finally let me catch her."

  "It's probably a good thing it didn't win, then." Giving her a curious look, she continues. “If you won, it would be a constant reminder every time you saw it. I’d hate that if it were me.”

  "Yeah. All I see when I look at it now are the imperfections. I didn't see them at the time. I viewed her as perfect because that's what I wanted her to be. That's what I thought our relationship was. Come to find out, things were far from perfect."

  There are anger and hatred in my voice. I've been able to hide it around Hope in an attempt to convince her I've let things go and I'm moving on. In front of Lauren, I'm not even trying to hide the pain. I don't have a reason to.

  "You don't have to talk about it, you know. It's not my business, and it sounds to me like you aren't ready to talk yet."

  Her voice is small, weak. For the first time since meeting her, she sounds uncertain about her words. I've never heard someone sound so genuine in my life. It makes me want to tell her everything, but not tonight. Tonight, I want to brush it off and show her the fountains. I want to make her smile. Talking about Kristen will not bring a smile to either of our faces.

  The water is pink as we approach. I watch as Lauren stares in awe. This is why I wanted to bring her here. At night, the fountains are one of the most beautiful sights in Brighton. Other than Lauren.

>   “They’re gorgeous,” she exclaims as the water darkens, turning purple a mere second later.

  “This is one of my favorite places. During the day, the water doesn’t change color, or if it does, you can’t see it.”

  “Thank you for bringing me here,” she replies, sincerity in her voice.

  Walking over to the ledge, I take a seat and pat the spot next to me. There are people seated all around the fountain. Couples, holding hands and watching the water change colors. Some even have their feet in the fountain.

  Looking at me skeptically, Lauren wrinkles up her nose as she approaches.

  “I don’t want to fall in,” she says.

  “You’ll be fine,” I say, reaching for her hand to help her.

  Slowly sitting down, Lauren plops down on the ledge next to me, causing her to shift backward. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out she’s about to fall in. Reaching behind her to wrap my arm around her and stop her from falling in, she leaps forward off the ledge before I can stop her.

  It’s too late for me.

  I brace for impact.

  The water is only about two feet deep, but it’s enough for me to go completely under at the angle I fell in. Sitting in the water, I look up to find Lauren covering her mouth, attempting to hide her laughter.

  Shaking my head, I stand and take a bow.

  All eyes are on me. Some people are pointing in my direction, laughing. Others are watching in surprise.

  “I’m so sorry,” Lauren says as I climb back over the ledge. “I felt like I was falling backward so I dove forward. I didn’t want to get wet.

  “I told you I wouldn’t let you fall in,” I say, attempting to wring out my suit jacket.

  When I look up I find Lauren staring at me, biting her bottom lip. I let her look, realizing she appreciates what she sees. She’s not the only one enjoying what they’re looking at.

  Dear Maggie,

  * * *

  I've been in a serious relationship with the same guy for the past three years, but I have a crush on someone else. We work together, so we spend a good amount of time together. I didn't mean for it to happen, but we have a lot in common, things that my boyfriend and I don't. I want to take a break from my relationship to see if things go anywhere. What do I do?

  * * *

  ~Torn Tori

  Tori,

  * * *

  A crush can be just that—a crush. Love is different. If you're thinking about someone other than your boyfriend, maybe you need to break up with him, no matter where things go with this other guy. It sounds to me like you want to have your cake and eat it, too. That's not possible here. In a way, you're already cheating on your boyfriend when you spend time with this other guy, no matter if it's at work or not. Think about it carefully before you make a decision. The question I have for you is, are you in love with your boyfriend? If you can't answer that with absolute certainty, you shouldn't still be in a relationship with him. Three years is a long time to spend in a relationship that's headed nowhere.

  * * *

  ~Maggie

  9

  Lauren

  Kyle is amazing. I don't feel like hanging out with him is research. That's a good thing since I feel bad about it every time I think about it being research. Because, if it wasn't just research, maybe things could be different. If I was interested in having a boyfriend. If he was interested in having a girlfriend.

  That's not the case.

  We're just friends.

  It's strictly business on my end.

  It's research.

  And now I feel bad again.

  Sitting at my desk Tuesday morning, pouting about my situation, I'm avoiding tomorrow's column. It's due by noon today, and I don't have an answer for this girl.

  I've never been in a serious relationship.

  I don't know what it feels like to be torn between two men.

  I can't relate to her at all except for the fact I am in a relationship right now. One I would like to move to the next level but can't.

  That's when it hits me.

  I'm just like Torn Tori. The only difference is that I'm torn between my job and Kyle. I can't move to the next level in our relationship with Kyle. I'm only hanging out with him because of my job. And he’s only hanging out with me because he wants to appease his sister. It’s a mutual “friendship” that benefitting both of us.

  Sure, we have a lot in common. We enjoy each other’s company, at least I do. I'm guessing he does, too, since we're going to dinner at a tapas restaurant Thursday night.

  What am I to him, though? He's filling a need for me. He's research and a friend. My only friend. I don't want to give that up, and I can't quit my research. I need it if I'm going to make it through the next few weeks.

  Two weeks down, four more to go.

  That's a long time in the scheme of things. That's a lot of advice to give with the little experience I've gained in the two meals we've shared. I’ve stopped counting my other “dates” as research. They weren’t as helpful as I had hoped.

  I can't screw this up right now.

  Wanting more, allowing myself to even think it could be more, could screw it all up.

  I need to play it cool.

  After sending my column to Mr. Phelps, I take an early lunch and walk around downtown, following the same path Kyle and I went to the park. Every time I look at the sculptures, I think of him and the woman he sculpted. Some people can't see beyond the cold metal. They can't see the passion.

  Not Kyle.

  Not me.

  That's something I've never shared with anyone before. I've always loved art, even if it's not a talent I possess. The art of crafting words into stories is the only talent I've ever claimed to have, and I'm good at it. In fact, I'm getting better every day.

  My phone rings in my purse just as I enter the park. Taking a seat on the nearest bench, I answer, holding the phone away from my ear.

  "Lauren!" Abby exclaims, her voice louder than necessary as usual.

  "Hey, what's up?"

  "I called your office, but you weren't there."

  "I took an early lunch. Is something wrong?"

  She's never called me at work before. I don't remember giving her the number, although it wouldn't be hard to look up. You can find anything on the Internet these days.

  "No, I just miss you. We haven't talked since Saturday,” she whines.

  "That's only four days, Abby. You make it sound like a lifetime."

  "When I'm used to seeing you and talking to you every day, it feels like a lifetime. When are you coming home to visit?" She’s been asking me the same question since I called her to let her know I made it safe.

  "As soon as I can, you know that. I don’t have vacation saved up yet, and it’s not worth it to fly home for just the weekend. I’d be there less than thirty-six hours. You could always come here. You have an open invitation, not that you need one."

  "Maybe I'll do that, then," she says. I can picture her in my mind, her blond hair pulled high on her head in a messy bun, hands on her hips, stomping her foot as she says it.

  "Anytime. All I need is a few hours of notice so I can pick you up at the airport."

  "I can take a cab."

  "Whatever. Look, can we finish this conversation when I get home tonight. I have about twenty minutes left of my lunch hour, and I haven't eaten yet."

  "Call me when you get home," she says, hanging up on me.

  Why can't I have a normal best friend? One who says goodbye when she hangs up. Maybe one who doesn't pout all the time because you don't fold to her every whim. I wouldn't trade Abby for the world, she great, supportive and all that, but it would be awesome if she didn't make me feel so bad about leaving her behind.

  There's a food truck set up at the other end of the park. My mouth begins to water as the smell of barbecue sauce assaults my senses. Being late back to work is going to be worth it if this food tastes half as good as it smells.

  I'm running late. I've
already sent Kyle a text apologizing, but he hasn't responded. I should have met him twenty minutes ago, but I can't find my car keys.

  Thinking back, I don't remember putting them on the counter when I walked in. Did I take them in the bedroom with me?

  I strip my bed but don't find them.

  I've already emptied my purse and messenger bag. My countertop is littered with papers for my next article, research for a special-interest story I'm working on, and notepads yet to be filled. Along with a dozen of the same pen. The only kind I'll write with.

  My phone starts ringing from underneath the stack. When I find it, Kyle's face is on my screen.

  Shit!

  "Hey! I'm so sorry. I can't find my keys. It's like they vanished into thin air," I say, gasping for air in between words. I'm out of breath from frantically searching my apartment.

  "Calm down. I'm assuming you've checked your purse and walked through all the motions you went through when you came home."

  "Yep. No luck."

  "How about a second set of eyes? I know this seems a little forward, but would you like me to come over and help you look? Or I can just pick you up. Or we can reschedule. Whatever you want to do," he stutters nervously.

  Looking around at my half-unpacked, recently torn apart apartment, I cringe. I don't want to cancel on him. I was looking forward to dinner tonight. It's the one thing in my life that's fun and exciting. I even shaved my legs and put on my favorite little black dress and heels.

  "Um, my place is kind of out of sorts right now," I say in way of an explanation.

  "You destroyed it looking for your keys."