Microsoft Word - Starter Boyfriend.doc

by Lana Jovanovic

  “Maybe I’m just not ready to date anyone?” She asked hesitantly. She took a few more chips and popped them into her mouth. She chewed slowly, reveling in the loud crunching in her ears. “And besides, I’m sure there are plenty of other women out there just like me. Twenty-six and not very experienced and it’s still okay—” Paige thought for a moment and then shook her head, “I’m not sure that there are, actually.”

  “That’s not comforting or supportive,” Zoe told her. “And… there are people out there.

  We don’t all live in the land of flash and glamour. You don’t have to have a boyfriend in high school o-or college, and you don’t have to date a lot or…” Gosh was she sounding as pathetic as she felt? With a frustrated growl, she turned fully to Paige. “Look, we aren’t all characters on The O.C. or Gossip Girl or Beverly Hills 90210, Paige, that’s just TV.”

  “What’s Beverly Hills 90210?” Paige asked as she slurped her Coke.

  “The grandpa show to The O.C.,” Minnie answered as she moved up on her hands and knees, shaking her lace-clad bottom in the air like an excited puppy. “Guess what. I have a great idea, Zo.”

  “Not interested,” Zoe said quickly.

  Minnie’s ideas always ended in some type of catastrophe. For example, the half tattoo Zoe had some how ended up with after a drunken night out. They had been celebrating Zoe’s 100-pound lost a year ago with tequila shots at Senior Frogs. Zoe didn’t remember much the following morning, but she woke up with half of a heart on the inside of her wrist. Minnie couldn’t explain it either. Then there was the time that Minnie wanted to supplement her income by becoming a dominatrix at Sphinx, a sex club in a shoddy part of town on the lower west side. They went to the club to enquire about lessons, which was when the place was raided by the NYPD sex crimes division. Zoe spent four hours in a downtown precinct being grilled about her involvement in kiddy porn.

  It was embarrassing, not to mention the cop told her she would be under surveillance for the rest of her life. Minnie said he was flirting with her, but Zoe left the interrogation room in tears. There were more examples of Minnie’s brilliant ideas, but they gave Zoe a headache just thinking about them.

  Zoe plucked a few more chips from the bowl as well as four sour gummy worms and put them all into her mouth. They made an oddly comforting mixture of flavors and a small part of her felt oddly calm. Washing them down with a swig of Diet Coke, Zoe waved her hand dismissively. When Minnie opened her mouth to say something else, Zoe waved her hand again, more dramatically this time as if she were brandishing a magic wand that would zap Minnie’s mouth shut for the rest of the night.

  “I think we should continue our night with a little spook fest—ever heard of Bloody Mary?” Paige’s pale cheeks seemed to turn paler and her freckles popped out even more.

  She shook her head no and looked at Minnie with awe.

  “What’s Bloody Mary?” Paige tucked her hands between her knees. “Is sounds scary.”

  “I think I know why you haven’t agreed to date any of the men that have asked you out in the past six months,” Minnie said, her bottom still wagging with excitement. Zoe slapped her hands over her face and moaned.

  “Please stop!”

  “You’re scared.” Minnie said quickly.

  “Very astute statement,” Paige said as she turned her gaze back to Zoe—Blood Mary long forgotten. “I think you’re shy and scared… but those are characteristics of chubby Zoe, not of thin Zoe.”

  “Right,” Minnie nodded. “It’s time to change all of that—and since you can’t do it with just some random bloke who wouldn’t be supportive or gentle or patient with you, you need someone else.”

  “A starter boyfriend,” Paige chimed in.

  “Ooh, nice, I like that,” Minnie slapped high-fives with Paige.

  “I am pretty smart,” Paige grinned from ear-to-ear and blushed at Minnie’s praise.

  Zoe was frowning so hard her face hurt; she didn’t like the sound of this idea. A starter boyfriend? What on earth was that? And if it was what she thought it was—some guy willing to show her the ropes of how to be a girlfriend—who on earth would want such a job? More than that, who would be willing to do such a thing? They must be insane. This entire conversation was insane.

  “No.” Zoe said after a long, long pause. “No, absolutely not!”

  “It’s a great idea Zoe,” Minnie said gently. “Think of him as a set of training wheels—

  you latch him to your hip and he takes you through the motions. First date…”

  “First kiss!” Paige beamed.

  “First vacation.”

  “First cuddle,” Paige gushed sweetly as she wound her arms around her body and hugged herself.

  Minnie laughed, “First awkward argument.”

  “First make out session!”

  “No!” Zoe cried with a nervous laugh. Her face was hot, her hands were sweaty and her heart was beating just a little too fast. “Gosh, that’s a ludicrous idea—who on earth would want to do something like that?”

  “You really don’t think you’re hot, do you?” The sadness laced in Paige’s question had Zoe on her feet again. This time she began gathering up trash, anything to keep her face averted so they wouldn’t know just how humiliated she was. She spent a minute or two in the kitchen wiping down the counters, and when that wasn’t enough to erase the sense of staring eyes, she crossed her arms and slowly turned. Minnie and Paige sat on their pillows with wide eyes, waiting for Zoe to respond.

  “So what if I don’t?” She asked with an exasperated cry. “Who cares? I’m fine without a boyfriend. I don’t need a man. You don’t need that stupid boy either, Paige. Why does my life have to be determined by whether or not I have—or ever have had—a boyfriend?

  It doesn’t make me less of a woman, does it? Am I less feminine? Am I somehow defective?”

  “You think you are,” Minnie said quickly. “That’s the problem.”

  “I don’t have a problem Minnie,” Zoe snapped. “I’m sorry that I can’t date men as frequently as I change underwear.”

  “Hey,” Minnie said, clearly taken aback by Zoe’s comment. “Hey, I’m not some slut!” Zoe hated the twinge of guilt she felt. She wasn’t a mean person, she really wasn’t, and she couldn’t stand knowing that she had hurt Minnie. Zoe walked back toward her friend with a full intent to apologize and just before she sat down, she kicked the bowl of candy sending colored pieces flying through the air.

  “Whoops!”

  In effort to grab the candy bowl, her hand went directly into the chip blow and sent them flying too. Blood rushed to her cheeks as Minnie and Paige began laughing. Zoe smiled as she hurriedly started to clean up the mess she had just created. She had always been just a tad clumsy and usually felt a swell of embarrassment, but she used it to her advantage this night and took her time cleaning up. She hoped that the mess would be enough to distract Minnie and Paige, but it wasn’t.

  “It’s not that you can’t,” Minnie said quickly. Zoe sighed heavily and threw a piece of candy into the bowl hard enough that it pinged against the side of the bowl and bounced back at her. Minnie pushed chips and candy out of her way as she crawled toward Zoe.

  “It’s not that you can’t date men as frequently as I change underwear.” Zoe wrapped her arms around Minnie and gave her a little squeeze. “Sorry about that comment, I’m just so frustrated that you don’t listen to me!” Minnie ignored Zoe and went on with what she was going to say, “It’s that you don’t date men.”

  “Or won’t,” Paige chimed in as she ate gummy worms off the floor.

  “Can we please summon Bloody Mary or something? I don’t want to discuss this anymore, I really don’t.” Zoe knew she sounded like a whiner, but she really couldn’t help herself. She was so tired of this topic and the way it was making her feel.

  “Or won’t,” Minnie agreed with Paige. “That’s good.”

  Zoe moaned and fell face-first into the pillows. She lay there for severa
l minutes, not caring what Minnie and Paige were thinking or silently saying behind her back. She just wanted to be left alone—maybe this way they wouldn’t see her.

  “Zoe,” Minnie pushed back Zoe’s hair. “Zoe, come on, let’s talk about this.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore!” Zoe cried as she turned her head to the side.

  “What do I have to say to stop this conversation? Do I have to agree to you finding some desperate loser for me to tryout? Can’t I just be left alone? It is okay to be single you know—feminist power and all that.”

  “I know,” Minnie said gently. “Look we can stop talking about this if you promise me that you’ll at least think about the idea.”

  “Sure, Min,” Zoe said. “Sure, I’ll entertain the idea of a pretend boyfriend.” She pushed herself up and brushed chip crumbs off her t-shirt. “Are we done now? Or do you feel the need to discuss my pathetic love life some more?”

  “We’re done,” Minnie said quickly, “absolutely, no more boyfriend talk.” She held up her hands as if to show surrender and then smiled thoughtfully.

  “Great,” Zoe clapped her hands together. “So how about we watch a movie?”

  “No way,” Paige said excitedly. “I want to do this Bloody Mary thing!” Zoe frowned as she watched Paige and Minnie scramble to their feet and hurry into the tiny little bathroom in the hallway. Bloody Mary was the absolute last thing Zoe wanted to do. Not having her already emotional mind trick her eyes into believing that Bloody Mary was staring back at her in the mirror would be a good thing. She didn’t think she’d get out of it though.

  “Come on Zoe!” Paige called with a giggle.

  The candle light flickering in the tiny room did not beckon Zoe in the slightest, but she pushed herself up off the pillow and slowly made her way down the hallway. She may be scared to date, but she certainly wouldn’t be scared of silly Bloody Mary either. Because honestly, how pathetic could a person be in one night?

  --

  Lesson Two: To break a dating rut, you have to take crazy chances. To heal, you must

  be willing to try love again.

  Colton Philips knew a few things about love.

  First, if you love someone—love them with your whole self, no matter what.

  Second, love can be a truly amazing ride. If it’s really true.

  Third, like the song says: love hurts. It hurts a lot.

  Colton knew first thing about true heart break. For example, it hurt pretty damn bad when he was left standing alone on the altar of Saint Matthew’s Church ten months ago. It was a terrible feeling to stare back at 200 curious faces who knew as well as he did that he’d just been stood up in the worst possible way. The longer he stood there, waiting for the love of his life to breeze through the double doors of the church sanctuary, the deeper the hurt became. He didn’t budge for hours, not even as friends and family members patted his shoulder sympathetically before taking their leave. He didn’t even bat an eyelash when his little sister Minnie began venting her own frustrations over what had happened, her curses ricocheting off the steeple pillars. Colton had stood there and hoped—

  prayed—that she would come.

  She never came.

  The hurt he felt only intensified when he returned to the apartment they shared to find a Dear Colton letter with the clichéd line “it’s not you, it’s me” scrawled across the bottom above her name and the apartment cleaned out of all things feminine. She even took their dog, Pepper.

  Yes, Colton Philips knew the pain of such a public, humiliating, break up. He knew the pain of a shattered, trampled-on heart. And although his failed engagement and wedding had taken place ten months ago, he was still suffering pangs of hurt. He felt ridiculously whipped, clingy, and desperate, but letting go of the past meant letting go of so many great things. Things that he could get back when she returned home. He wasn’t ready to end the daydreams of what could have been an amazing life with a beautiful, energetic, sexy woman.

  He was hounded left and right by friends and family who told him that he needed to move on and date someone new. He thought about that from time to time and even tried a few blind dates, but never made it past dessert.

  God help him, he wasn’t over Cara and everyone knew it. Hell, his heart still leapt every time the bells over the front door of their landscaping and floral design business jingled because he thought it was her and Pepper returning to him. He told himself that one day she’d walk through the doors of the business they started together—her floral design shop and his landscape design company—and admit that leaving him was a mistake. She would wrap her long arms and legs around him and all would be right. He told himself that she would re-buy her half of the business that she sold back to him through her lawyers and would settle in wearing her pink apron, which still hung on a coat tree at the front of the store.

  Things would just be right then.

  At least he hoped so.

  Working in the storage room, Colton’s heart leapt with adrenaline and his breath caught at the sound of doorbells chimes over an intercom directly above his head. Like a fool, he paused and listened. He listened for heels clicking on the stained-cement floor; he listened for the clipping sounds of Pepper’s toenails following quickly after her master.

  He listened and listened, and his heart raced even faster. Colton waited, like a fool, for the door to the storage room to open. He waited to see Cara.

  This happened every time, every damn time the bells chimed, and frankly he was sick of it. He was sick of the anticipation and the hope that was always shot down and shattered like a clay pigeon at a trap shoot. He needed to remove the damn bells. He needed to forget about Cara.

  Heart pumping awkwardly in the middle of his chest, Colton released the breath he had been holding and sucked in a new one. He tried to calm himself, but the muffled female voice just beyond the closed door had his mind turning rapidly. What would he say to her when she came through the door? What would he truly feel?

  Colton reached down to haul another bag of potting soil to its place on the shelf and as he did he noticed the voices growing louder, approaching him. He tried his hardest to turn casually as the door that separated the work room from the flower shop, swung open.

  His heart lobbed painfully. The sharp twang would have worried him had he been thinking rationally, but he wasn’t thinking at all. He knew he looked nervous and anxious as he felt on the inside. He felt the pressure building up all over his body; his lungs burned as he held his breath. He turned slowly and just as suddenly as the anxiety came over him it disappeared. Wooshing out of his body like a tidal wave. The sinking sensation left him feeling physically depressed.

  Like usual, Cara didn’t come through the door, it was his little sister Minnie carrying a bag of takeout and a cardboard drink carrier with two huge and one small Styrofoam cups. Inside, Colton cursed himself for being foolish. He cursed himself for acting like the awkward teenage boy he once was. He knew he should have expected one of his workers or even his sister, but that stupid clinging part of him had hoped—prayed—to see Cara.

  “Jesus Christ,” Minnie snapped as she stopped cold just inside the doorway. Colton lifted his eyes to hers; the heat of her dark brown gaze was unnerving. He shifted uncomfortably and then bent to haul another bag to the shelves. His sister really did give truth to the phrase if looks could kill. He could feel her eyes burning into the back of his skull. He listened to the scuff of Minnie’s shoes as she approached him and bent down for the last four bags. He had just heaved the last bag up when Minnie jabbed his exposed side with two fingers. It hurt so much Colton dropped the bag, which split and spread rich chocolate dirt across the top of his work boots.

  “Minnie!”

  “I swear, Colt, if you ever look at me with such disappointment again I’ll kill you,” The venom in her voice was enough to destroy acid rain. “And then I’ll kill her.” Colton sighed and looked down at his little sister. Minnie was a fire cracker: a complete po
werhouse full of solid energy and angst—the perfect personification of a teenage rebel.

  However, at twenty-six, Minnie was far from her teenage years. That didn’t stop the barrage of comments she heard daily about looking too young for something. Colton told her all the time that she didn’t look that young, but honestly she could be mistaken for a young punk kind due to her short, petite stature, and young-looking features. Minnie compensated by carrying an illusion of a cold-hearted chip around on her face. The chip worked mostly as a filter—true friends could see through it, she claimed.

  Being perceived as a kid most of the time infuriated her. So, to make her even more upset, and to distract her from the obvious hurt she was feeling at his reaction to her not being Cara, Colton cupped Minnie’s cheeks in his between his dirty palms and smiled sweetly.

  “Hello, Minerva.”

  It was an unfortunate family name passed down for too many generations. Colton, six years older than Minnie, had begged his father to name her something sweeter—

  something younger—but John Philips refused and christened his first, and only, daughter Minerva Ann Philips. Of course no one called Minnie Minerva unless they wanted to aggravate her or had a desire to be punched in the face. Colton was positive that Minnie only used her given first name on legal documents and probably never told her friends or let them see her license.

  She hated her name and that hate was evident in the crinkle of her brow and the piercing of her lips into a fine line etched with white as blood was denied to the area.

  “Shut up!”

  Dropping his hands from Minnie’s cheeks, Colton turned sharply to the sound of a young, hyper-excited voice. He found himself staring at an extremely thin little girl, maybe around eleven years old, wearing public school uniform that he recognized to be from Public School 155 a few located a few blocks away. She moved forward slowly, her face alight with mirth, and as she pushed her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose, she looked at Minnie.